n.b.
There is nothing to say
That hasn’t been said before
But if I feel something new,
I’ll try
With what I have
To say what to the world
Is the same old thing
C L Couch
Psalm 52
song of passion
Some things are not enough even
From an impoverished place,
Contemplating gifts.
O God,
Where is your own longing?
And where might mine match yours?
Psalm 53
song of compassion
Lord,
Why should you listen to me, anyway
But I’ll keep talking, just the same
Someone is missing
And others are searching
It’s far away
I don’t know anyone there
But there are hearts
And life that always matters
So I’ll ask
Sinner before the altar
Please help those in motion
Watch around (above, under) the rescue
Help us in our better work
Bless those in need of rescue
Please
Bless the rescued
And the rescuer
http://www.uscgnews.com/go/doc/4007/2914970/
C L Couch
New Year
The rooster
Takes a turn
(the monkey
Is my year)
Oriental means eastern
But in China it is meridian
The center
For people and the life
We take these years
In twelve,
Which is significant for
Occidentals, too
Maybe we should learn to count
Together, dismiss compass
Names
Respecting the zenith
Of each degree
Each one
C L Couch
Happy Gregorian new year. Happy lunar new year.
Still writing from a place of pain that tends to overwhelm. I’ll be rethinking that relationship between art and suffering, sometime.
Meanwhile I’m trying.
Inauguration
A blue light in the sky
Maybe green
Depends upon perspective
Looking out along the silver sea
Of an ancient world
The truth is this:
Matter exists
So does the abstract
Earth and harmony
Air and loyalty
Water and benevolence
All things come together at the last
For judgment and better
Placement in the heavens
Meantime we breathe
We move
We love the seasons
I fall and maybe you are there
To pick me up
The risk, the chance, the danger
In saying, today we live
We step, we reach
We are aware
Living is chosen for the day
Our enemies might scoff
We in turn scorn
But better worlds than these await
And we have only time until
True glory is manifest
And a paradise of grace and will travels
Arriving in our atoms,
Saving electrons, all energy
Accounted
This is what we have
Who we are is how we choose
Salvation comes from love
And the faith
That persists
In you, in me, in all
C L Couch
(in my journal, after drafting for what’s above)
There. Message for the day. Persist. Endure. Celebrate a little. Find small pleasures. Look forward. Move now.
My headache is bad. The coffee helps.
Brain Burn
Or the Quixote syndrome
(unofficial, made it up)
Idealism cannot last
But in my mind, it’s cauterized
After the fires, it’s clear
The windmill’s won
I ride away on my pink horse
Thankful Sancho Panza
Hadn’t seen
Or heard or felt or touched or savored
Any of this,
Flame or ash
C L Couch
Portland Oregon
I have family there I
Think I lost four more
C L Couch
Four homeless people die of exposure in Portland in first 10 days of 2017
Medieval Morning
A bright, open, empty field
Ready for blackbird pins to touch,
Scratch, and leave tracks
That become illumination
This is the riddle:
Write me an answer;
Illustrate your solution,
Please
C L Couch
Negotiating the Spoon
Have you ever worked
A spoon inside a jar of jam?
(The spoon is inside)
Certainly, you have
It’s the cozy way
The curve slides under the
Oranged part, and
There you have a treasure
Slip it out and pour it
On the toast (I favor rye)
Save for the skinny parts
Sticking to the utensil
You must negotiate
The goop on the back
And in the bowl
So the spoon is gently
Struck onto the bread; some
Comes off, and
The rest is prized out with
A finger
A suckling part
Of anticipation of the rest
Taste of solution-solving
Impracticality
What a treat
Veniality
To wash off
A moment’s
Work at the sink
Time and use of smarter efficiency
And these have value
So do the slow and cumbered ways
That force the option upon us
The pleasure in what we are doing
The charity
C L Couch
The Russia Plane
I’m so sorry
And in this I do not care about
Antipathy between governments
And generations’ leaders
Loss of life from Russia
The choir, the humanitarian
Anyone from any place of any kind
Or backing
Agenda no longer counts save
Mother Russia weeping
Fill the holes in churches and
In agnostic circles
With salt water from our tears
And Black Sea depths
C L Couch
clcouch123 
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