but it hurts
ouch
I breathe in discomfort
ouch
my muscles ache
but first
and more
all the apparatus deep inside
it is
sickness
it is infection
there might be solutions coming
clc
(sorry, it’s what I’m dealing with right now; I write as I can and read very little, sorry again)
photo by National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases on Unsplash
ripe mildew and mold
how to clean the room of these
requires owned know-how
c l couch
photo by roland deason on Unsplash
after Nagasaki
we had learned to bomb
the world
war ended by avatar
of I am death to
cite
and
secularly
to benedict
by us
to bless an industry
of
products that should never
be employed
and so
inutility
as the market must stay glutted
with inventory unused
by
desperate hope
bad for business
bad
for sickness
bad for all the death
from
skin softened from bone
all senses blinded
and
then
a memorial to haunting pain
the ghosts of one by one
and of
the nations
we could claim ignorance
we did not know
or
appreciate the scale
we only wanted victory
a conclusion
if
at a cost
of febrile Earth
c l couch
photo by Sajan Rajbahak on Unsplash
masks of course that smile
(Monday after goodness from sabbath times is done)
I’m tired
tired of playing the game
goes
the satiric song
but tired
really
don’t you know and
maybe you could share
from
everything exhausting
which sometimes is the blur
and not much more
and
sometimes is the imposition of
the expectation
that busyness must reign
the real
virtue
and by image
don’t you know
we have
so many things to do
which
is why
there is no real time for you
and
don’t worry
we are teaching children
if not how
but by the show to live
frantic
and frenetic
in the way
for generations
c l couch
“I’m Tired” sung by Madeline Kahn in Blazing Saddles
the road
I have a friend who got
to walk the trail
across northern Spain
the Camino
that
takes one to Compostela
I can imagine only
though
she affirms
the discoveries
and changes
it is a dark day here
the streets
are
dull
c l couch
photo by Mor Shani on Unsplash
uneasy under the sun
(maybe a Prufrockian telling)
it’s hot
I drive under the sun
hoping to leave the car
once
parked
to get inside
before the heat
sights too directly and too
much on me while I
in turn am
targeting
the heated keyhole
with
keys already warm
so
it seems
and hopefully soon out
of my pocket
on
their way to
the old
dense
green wooden door of
the eccentric-angled yellow house
with the broken portico under
hopefully
again to navigate
which
is not the heat
but every day
and there it is the rounded poorly-matted
stoop
the lock
key inside beneath the wave
yet
breathing
maybe to sneeze
in fact
from the central air
only on the first floor
not
on mine
(sadly the solar crests do not
engender
mermaids on waved rocks
or
on my street by
sunlit bricks)
c l couch
photo by NASA on Unsplash
simpler green day near
solstice calls the summer start
then shorter green days
orange autumn day
equinox incites the fire
by red longer night
winter silver blue
longer days the promise bear
by solstice we met
spring the ground awake
spring equinox pale-promised
pastel growth begins
c l couch
photo by Bozhin Karaivanov on Unsplash
central Texas
one death we struggle
getting over
so
so how to comprehend a hundred
deaths and
more
storms and floods
destroying
like Time’s rolling sons in
the old hymn
taken
the material and
lively
debating over quick response
especially in a time of
cutting funding
for
all kinds of services
mostly
though a matter
now
of rescue
and the dreadful counting
receiving
aid
enduring then
to take
on
against all pushes of despair
considering
instead how to rebuild
“O God, Our Help in Ages Past” by Isaac Watts
Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the op’ning day.
(excerpt)
flooding town next over
(from mine in Pennsylvania)
Carlisle
one day
for storm floods
that were
severe
boating on streets
through town
no chance to pass through
radiating intersections
all the trees and parts of trees
that fell
and the delicate
dangerous dance
with
electricity
now nature helps to dry
in its irony of
having
delivered all the water first
the human focus next
on
taking
finding stock
and then rebuilding
c l couch
photo by Wes Warren on Unsplash
imagining heatwave accommodation
(3 poems)
having a green day
when I think on Robert Louis Stevenson
his verses for children
I imagine a pastel illustration
pale colors of
children at play
there is a swing
which might mean there a book
I’m thinking of
with the picture at
the front
or with
the title
a green-bound book
it seems
though what other color
to represent the liveliness
of play
a green day
washing the gloom away for
children with
a swing to play on
and
with care
summer accommodation
and shall we say
let’s have
a day
get out there
if
shaded from the sun
so that only the light of life gets
through
an appreciate of the colors
paled
beholding all the surfaces
the textures
sights and sounds
things to smell and taste
leaving
what
why
to hear in the surfaces and textures
too
and course through the hours
with a purpose
do our jobs
then toward earned play
(if
a child then with
the understanding that it is
the child’s
job)
to have some trusted company
trustworthy enough
for jobs
and play
a fullness in
the day
accrued regardless of intention
but
but the mind and body worked
into completion
then
the fullness of the night
with rest
while third-shifters
must go
the other way
to
have the filling hours
should we get there
I recall
a picture of a fountain
at La Alhambra
adding imagination
with
the wish to be there
if a moment
to let the spray strike me
the lavishness of
water
for play
in a dry land
how many tour
while I can only hope each time’s
a
treasure
c l couch
photo by Sebastian Yepes on Unsplash
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