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Borne in the USA

Borne in the USA

(Thanksgiving Day 2017)

 

Those who can, eat too much

Those who can’t are often fed as well

There are parades that

Honor stores and industry celebrities

Though most of our parades are

Done that way

 

A magazine editor wrote

President Lincoln

Suggesting a holiday—

This was during the war when a respite

And a time for thanks would welcome relief

To all the tragedy

FDR secured it for the nation

 

We watch football, formed when

Athletes from Canada comprised a new event

With Harvard students

Canada has Thanksgiving Day at a different

Time

I hope other cultures have it, too

Maybe you will tell me, and

 

In the mean time I’ll say thank you to you, mindful of

Respective situations

 

For you give me a reason

 

C L Couch

 

 

(photograph from Flickr)

 

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Do You See Me Now?

Do You See Me Now?

 

I was a cat in Moscow

A photographer liked me, I guess

My manner, my similarity,

My distinctness of

Western cats

So at the fair in 1963, he (it was a he)

Clicked away

(Like my paws on pavement)

And I am here for you

Now

Meow

 

C L Couch

 

Photo declassified from ’63 Moscow Fair.

https://www.muckrock.com/news/archives/2017/nov/08/cia-cat-photos/?mc_cid=38a2949b82&mc_eid=7f3cc8b5a9

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first World Day of the Poor

first World Day of the Poor

(day late, no dollar short)

 

Francis says to us

Blessed are the hands that reach beyond

Every hindrance of creed or culture

That in a profane way keeps us

Apart

 

The physician quotes

Blessed are the poor—

In spirit or

In flesh—

For yours is the realm of God

In this love is not a democracy but

Obeisance to a royal decree

From the one who

Rules perfectly with justice

And unerring care

 

This is not the kind of mystery that’s hard

To resolve

Who made the poor? we did, and

We keep ours down in a fallen world

That drives them, drives us

Deeper

 

The answer to all questions is, Who cares?

Acceptable question this time to

A question

To those in front of us, a catechesis, a

Secular investigation doesn’t

Serve;

 

The poor are here,

A monarchy for them and us;

That’s far off

 

The open hand is empty, and sometimes it’s

Clenched in pain

The challenge in the giving is

Courage to unclose, to press into the soul

The bravery, tenacity

 

The food and water

And more

And better

For the living

And the dying

In the right time for each

For the change

 

When all are blessed

 

C L Couch

 

first World Day of the Poor

We cannot remain passive. Blessed are the hands that reach beyond every barrier of culture, religion, and nationality, and pour the balm of consolation over the wounds of humanity.  Blessed are the open hands that ask nothing in exchange, with no “ifs” or “buts” or “maybes”: they are hands that call down God’s blessing upon their brothers and sisters.

Pope Francis (who proclaimed the day)

First World Day of the Poor, 2017: Let us love, not with words but with …

 

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Hospitalism

Hospitalism

 

My sister tells me it’s a man thing

Not wanting to go to the

Hospital

It’s certainly true that I do not want to go

And that I thought this

A healthy inclination

Now I wonder if for those women who

Care so much

(In quantity and quality) if there is a

Kind of comfort there

Someone else to provide, to

Decide,

To break the news

And deal with it first

 

C L Couch

 

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Armistice

Armistice

 

A hundred years ago

Europe was ablaze

An awful fire, open-pit

Like southern

Soldier picking

 

North Africa, western Asia

Cut into with blunt

European, Turkish knives

As if

The lands were

Burnt meat

 

Now the USA is adding

Fuel to the fire

My grandfather a soldier-stick

Serving with muscle and courage

And fear

(I’m guessing about the fear, for I never

Saw if in him)

 

Then all elevens,

And it’s over: fire tamped

Ashes rising, setting on new ground

Of anger and reparation

 

Peace rendered ironic

Buckets of grave dirt

Thrown against

Walls of retribution

 

Against which

New shadows will rise

 

C L Couch

 

(National Geographic Society)

 

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Piece Meal

Piece Meal

 

What shall I

Write about this morning?

Isn’t there enough

Death through violence

That I don’t have to record, about which

Not to comment?

What good is there in

The world happening today?

I have little, maybe some, doubt it’s there:

Someone has given

Something and didn’t have to give it;

Somewhere a treaty’s

Being signed

That will mean an end to

Trouble in

The hope for something solider than war that

Feeds and builds.

Somewhere someone is kind

Enough to garden in

The mind,

Cultivate the spirit and the moment

When, created in the mood of God we

We were given parts;

 

Pangloss is wrong—we must

Guard each other’s.

 

C L Couch

 

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Congress

Congress

(visiting a beach in NC)

 

Topsail

I’m pretending that the air is

Ionized

And that it’s good for me

 

Up-and-over steps, across the dune

Down to the sand

A public access, though

There are only a few people here today

Some dogs

But all the birds

 

Are meeting

Fish and trash on the agenda

I have nothing for them so

They fly from me

Disdain

 

I pick up shells and stones

Some with rough edges

Some worn smooth through the refinement

Of the sea

 

Together we show

Large and small

Nature’s power

 

C L Couch

 

 

Topsail

(photo credit, http://www.treasurerealty.com/uploads/TopsailBeach_OceanView.jpg)

 

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canonized

canonized

(days for all saints)

 

a process for remembering

those who live the

faith

in a church that is

a canticle of memory

 

who slips out, unseen

after the formal part is

done

to work a holy thing that

none of us will

know

 

there is a record, maybe

doesn’t matter

we sense without consciousness

that something good

happened

 

and there will be re-collecting

of it in the sharing of

all our legacies

 

C L Couch

 

5

Cat People

Cat People

 

I don’t know why we like

To change or stay the same

Is it up to us

As a campaign?—when

Burdened, yes, when

Abused of

Our better parts and

Aspirations

 

(Or maybe because we bug the

Hell out

Of those around

Us, and they’re right)

 

Otherwise, doesn’t the universe

Offer instinct-movement in

Gravity

And the attraction or, admittedly,

Repulsion of

Black holes and

Neutron stars?

 

And all the turning elements

That ask of us to

Dance if possible with joy,

Day by day,

(And anyway)

With all the nuclei?

 

Like felines who jump across

The yard or run the

House

 

Because they can

Because the gods of catliness

Say cats must—

And don’t they want to!

 

C L Couch

 

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