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dream state

(x = space)

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dream state

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shall I write on a dream?

dreams work out subconscious

so I guess there’s something there

in mine

in my dreams

there have been nightmares

mostly, I hope they’re good

while I’m inside

the world changes in there,

naturally

sometimes I know my way

sometimes that’s not an issue

it’s the people I encounter

from the past

from the present

people I do not know

as for color, I don’t know

we’re told we dream in black and white

so if I say that’s yellow

is the truth of it in what I see

or what I’ve convinced myself

I’m seeing?

dreams are strange

I guess I need them

they might have been the first visitations

formless forms given form,

hidden words revealed

all because we sleep

confusions for

an easy price

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I’m thinking now

I should have made this formless

or changed the shape many times

or something

as a waking example

but then when I’m awake

like many who dream

and recall anything,

I’m trying to clarify

unlike a scientist

but one to whom

everything had happened

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as far as I know,

I’ve never died in dreams

I’ve fallen without an ending

to the fall;

sometimes I’ve fallen and then flown

and, after, felt the use

between my shoulder blades,

the stiffness from the muscles there

that that would be needed

for the use of wings

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sometimes I’m frightened, after

most often, I’m sad

sometimes nostalgic

warmth or sometimes hope

worked its way through

the pastiche

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I don’t know

how God’s involved in dreams

mine are a mess:

I don’t see how

an angel as an agent

could be talking through them

but we have precedents

in messages of prophecy;

to have a dream with clarity

must be something

as impressive it must be

troubling,

a contemporary (waking)

source for fear and trembling

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c l couch

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photo by Tamara Menzi on Unsplash

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Dreaming Impossibly

(x = space)

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Dreaming Impossibly

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This is for real

But every now and then

I must imagine

Like one Lewis or the other

Things that cannot happen

Happening

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A hole

Through which

The world is further out

Horizons wider

Air that moves just right

Enhancing breath

Progressive fields

That do not have to tire

We can take them slowly

Discovering

Along the way

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Water we can take

It’s safe

And not worry

About returning

About returning overall,

Well, that’s another matter

After exploration

After delight

And rest

And learning

From this impossible day

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C L Couch

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Photo by Florian Rieder on Unsplash

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Rank and File

(x = space)

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Rank and File

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Thank goodness

For the discipline

Of fire and cloud

And water

And the path

The faithless wonder

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There is a promise

When we forget

There is a promise

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There’s prophecy

To mingle with

What is before us

In contention,

All the other parts

That make up everything

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The everything we know,

The things we must

Believe in anyway

Sometimes from apostacy

Of fact,

Worse from the inside

Out

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Before external judgment,

We sentence ourselves

For lack of faith

When, reasonably,

How much is there to believe in?

Evidence of what’s unseen–

Thank you,

Says our agnostic

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The normalcy

Of matter and dimension

Fairly

Imposing,

Building what we stand on

For belief

And unbelief

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The believer is the doubter

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We go through this,

We are this

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Often there is more of us

On the other side

Of chrysalis

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C L Couch

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Hebrews 11:1

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Photo by Ruth Paradis on Unsplash

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Trick

(x = space)

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Trick or Treat

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Simply put

And because I cannot count

Not knowing all the places

With the numbers

Too many died

This past week

From war

From sickness

From hunger

Or from thirst

From having something safe to drink

From crime

And corruption

(there are many sources)

From hate

Because hate, in fact, can kill

It takes the life

It leaves us with a zombie-like illusion

We can blame the movies

For the monsters

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C L Couch

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Photo by Arno Senoner on Unsplash

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Warplanes

(x = space)

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Warplanes

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Almost antique word

That brings to mind

The bombers in the movies

The models on a tray

I worked on

When I was sick

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But these are real

Metal and tall,

Plastic in the systems

Electronics

And then there are

All the explosives, loaded,

Ready to send

Here or there

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Warplanes

That was the word used on the news

Long, official,

And romantic

Scarves and leather jackets

Indiscreet

From up so high

While on the ground

Where we live

The war takes out

Our fields and homes

While a threat

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Maybe

Only anxiety,

A state that has its own

Consequences

In the air

On the land

Where the bombs hit

Or there are UXBs

If only in the mind

When we look up

And then look at each other

Side to side

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Or it’s the real thing

The planes we cannot trust

Unleashing

Some kind of hell

Upon the Earth

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C L Couch

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Photo by Kevin Den Heijer on Unsplash

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I’m Taking My Break

(x = space)

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I’m Taking My Break

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The haunting rises from

The coffee cup

When the liquid’s hot

Enough,

Aided by the air

That might be just-right cool

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A spell upon the world

Not cast by anyone

Not by un-sentient machines

Or by any eldritch

Part

Of us

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Like morning fog

There’s beauty in the vagueness

Indefinition

Wonder, too, as we look

Through

To the same as ever

And it’s not the same

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C L Couch

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Photo by Ayaneshu Bhardwaj on Unsplash

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Wicked, You Know

(x = space)

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Wicked, You Know

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Hello, Friday

Just after Thursday

Beyond the witching hour

By only a few

I drove back seeing lights

In front of houses

And beside

Orange and purple have been added

Fine by me

The colors of fall

Are enough

But the lights at night

Add romance with chill air

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Reminders of ghost stories

The best kind of fear

New Englanders

(old Englanders, too)

Call wicked

Meaning good

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C L Couch

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Photo by Will Swann on Unsplash

Blue Ridge Parkway, Canton, United States

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Cell Block

(x = space)

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Cell Block

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I don’t know that I’ve written

Anything

I like

Not that I have to like it

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You have to like it,

That is, with textual

Appreciation

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Or at least give me a break

To read

And then to have

Whatever frank reaction

            If good to tell me,

            If bad to keep it to yourself

            Kidding!

            (mostly)

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I’ve been sitting by myself

Too long

Writing whatever

Looking up pretty pictures, too

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I need to nap

Or go out to buy more coffee filters

One task then the other,

Recommending order

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Later

Rested, filtered

Enjoy a tea time

(coffee time)

Then write some more

Or not

It’s not as if

There’s a contract

Yet

Except with myself, my own

Eccentric terms

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I’m sure you understand

Defining, realizing

Your own discipline

As well

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C L Couch

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Photo by loli Clement on Unsplash

my sister’s coffee

Tigre, Argentina

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La Paz

(x = space)

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La Paz

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I don’t mean peace

As ideal

We can’t have ideals now

Not on this side of things

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But we can have a working peace

Something for day to day

For ordinary

Do I mean compromise?

Don’t know—I mean

Talking about it,

Which I imagine will mean

Negotiation form time to time

My nation grows food

Mine has technology

Mine is famous for a labor force

Come on,

Let’s have peace

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More than a show,

Of course,

And something that admits our flaws

Because we are flawed

And for all we know the world’s flawed

And the cosmos, overall;

And who knows?

We might have had a hand in all that

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But we’re talking real peace

It must admit virtues and vice

Good days and bad

Rampant egos that on the good days

Know restraint,

While restraint is now the law

There are also mistakes

And errors

These are not sins

Though there are also sins

Deserving of confession

To confessors

And then the fixing-up

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We can do this:

We can have a real peace

Then everything we grow

Will grow

And each one will have one’s own

(don’t worry about a term for that)

And we can legitimately

Aim for the stars

Worthy of the company

Of all the objects

All the beings

We encounter

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There is more to say about this

More to figure

Maybe I’ll have time

You’ll have time

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C L Couch

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Photo by Wonderlane on Unsplash

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