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Arts and Sciences

(x = space)

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Arts and Sciences

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It used to be

That art was the vision

Science the practice

(of the vision)

Thus there was connection

As between birth

And grown-up life

That was not ineffable

But practical

Workable

For visioning, producing

Of an age

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Now we don’t like each other

The theoretical

The practical

We grumble and we look

The other way

Well, to our way

If we must, we sigh

Whisper nearly sotto voce

For a bit of theory

Or a bit of usefulness

Or industry

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Music, math

The Renaissance

Philosophy

Reading, writing

How to build community

Through argument

And pipes

And water fountains

Statuary for the ages

Buildings that make sense

Can be maintained

And are beautiful

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They’re coming back, perhaps

I see new works in small towns

Better than returning is

Moving forward

Time for a new alliance

New connections

New community

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Make new friends

And keep the old;

One is silver

And the other gold

Not bad for an age

Every day a merger

Every breath a hope

In vision

Words

Plans

Building

And-or preserving

The streets, the place,

And planet

We all live along

Each one

Each other

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C L Couch

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Light in the Law Quad

Photo by Mathew Schwartz on Unsplash

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“Make New Friends” is a scout and camp song (a round) whose creators are unknown and whose lyrics have variations.

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On the Ecumenism of Species

(x = space)

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On the Ecumenism of Species

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Dogs and cats should share

Often, they do

They share heat when it’s cold

They can share toys

They can treat each other

As toys

Food is another matter

Their systems are different

So unless it’s An Incredible Journey

Situation,

They should eat apart

And eat apart

Be who each other is

They can rest together

Often, they do

And enjoy God’s-creature status

Both, together

All, together

Now

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C L Couch

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Photo by Madalyn Cox on Unsplash

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Sextant

(x = space)

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Sextant

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I have no idea how

One works

Somehow the sextants

Set

The way we need to take

In relation to

The stars’ own courses

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Like the lodestone

The sunstone

A compass

Or the stars themselves,

We go with an absurdity

Of faith

Considering how wide

The water

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How minimal the shorelines

And they

Save us against

The ocean’s

Featureless horizon

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A journey by design

Or an irony of pressing,

A crossing by

The sextant’s parsecs

Tentatively ending at

A port-of-call

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And the decision not

To yield but

To carry on,

Wayward sailors

Wayward children

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Seeking the

Navigator’s colors

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C L Couch

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U.S. Navy Quartermaster 3rd Class, practices using a sextant as part of a navigation training aboard the amphibious assault ship USS Bonhomme Richard (LHD 6), 2018

By National Museum of the U.S. Navy – 180423-N-DL434-149, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=70793138

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Qwerty

(x = space)

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Qwerty

(minus w, minus t)

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What do you want of me,

God?

Maybe the next hour

Or tomorrow

Or the moment

That is the only thing

I know for sure

There is

And now the next one

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What is your will

And should I ask?

Maybe I don’t need to

Maybe knowing is for

Greater ones

Than I

The ones for histories

Who rated visions

The certainly

Of steps to take

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I muddle

And you, reading,

Muddle like me

If you’re like me

Maybe it’s easy

There is an easy need

For something

And we move

We save considerations

For contemplation

Conversations

That may never happen

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If a bomb

Should crash this wall

If should be in bed

Because of illness

Then all there is to think about

If thought is clear

Is to survive the time

Allowed

Against sadnesses

Even the world’s evil

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Hunger

Should affect me thus

Or thirst for something safe

Or doubt for faith

Should that be the exchange

For everything vile

That may come upon me

Come upon us

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Since, actually,

I might be moved with

Greater intensity

Should it happen to you

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I shall believe

And ask

Even as confidence fades

That I shall ever know

That you shall ever tell me

What would please you

What would serve you

Not in an epic

But small verses

That could

Make

At least delineate

A life

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C L Couch

while I’m typing

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Photo by Denny Müller on Unsplash

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Sorry, Uncle

(x = space)

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Sorry, Uncle

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I haven’t

Liked

A thing

All day

Not the rest

That was

Too brief

Not the clothes

That are too worn

Well, in need

Of cleaning

Not the food or drink

That was too sweet

And filled me up

So that

What’s inside and

The rest of me

Are getting along awkwardly

At best

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Not the words I’ve set down

Drawn lines

Through

Made spaces

Tried to write again

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What to do on such a day?

Maybe nothing

I can take a break

Some might want me to

For one reason

Out of

Many reasons

I can pray

Prayer is an attitude

Telling me

I don’t have to write

To give, to send

Outside of me

Today

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It’s late

I breathe

The breathing’s warm

My body’s warm

It’s June

How much more

Revelation

Do I need?

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Oh,

I’m not angry

Parentally to say

I’m only

Disappointed

Twist the blade

Why don’t I?

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Well, I’ll pause

And look

Here there are

Words

And sorry for conceits

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I understand the beasts

In La Brea

Never got out

On their own

I’ll be with you

Tomorrow

Unsucked

From tar

Unstucked

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The bones of writing down

Enfleshed again

And on the move

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C L Couch

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Smilodon at the Page Museum at the La Brea Tar Pits

(image) by Dallas Krentzel – Smilodon at the Page Museum at the La Brea Tar PitsUploaded by FunkMonk, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18649097

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Leaf-Taking

(x = space)

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Leaf-Taking

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Leaves change

As time changes

As time changes

Green becomes memory

Until green times

Return

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Leaves of pages

Change

As time changes

As time changes

The memory of reading

Reading now

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C L Couch

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Photo by Chinnu Indrakumar on Unsplash

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Photo by Roman Trifonov on Unsplash

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Storied

(x = space)

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Storied

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You know

The living parable

It actually happened

When soldiers

Were given leave

To drink

From a nearby stream

And some lay down

Their weapons

While prostrate

Lapped the water

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These were sent home

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Some knelt

By the water

Clutching weapons in one hand

While with the other

Reaching down to cup the water

Sipped while keeping watch

Around

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These were kept

For the coming battle

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I often think of this

From Sunday School

And cup the water

When I can

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C L Couch

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Photo by Sam Dellaporta on Unsplash

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Special Blue Light

(x = space)

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Special Blue Light

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It was at K-mart

Every now and then

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Every now and then

A blue light would be

Set off

Turning like atop a small

Cop car

With an announcement

Overhead, promising

A treat

If we would go there

To the journey’s end

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I eschewed

The blue light

Since I wasn’t there

For mysteries

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I like mysteries

In books

And inside trees,

Prompted from the sky

And when I pray

That is

The mystery of faith

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C L Couch

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Photo by 🇨🇭 Marcel Gross | @marcelgross.ch on Unsplash

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Sanctuary Reasons

(x = space)

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Sanctuary Reasons

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Through the Savior the whole structure is held together and grows into a temple sacred in the Lord; in the Savior you also are being built together into a dwelling place of God in the Spirit.”

from Ephesians 2

[emphases mine]

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A temple and a dwelling place

For caretakers, maybe

Sanctuary seekers

Refugees

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Shall a holy place

Be a dwelling place as well?

Who’s to say?

We dedicate the space

In the name

And to the credit of the Lord

(perhaps for all we owe the Lord)

Like the Lord’s house

That might be waiting for us

In heaven

In all the mansions there

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So if we say it is the Lord’s

And go to the Lord for learning,

What are the great commandments

And shall we apply them

In the holy place

And those who need a dwelling there

For needful reasons?

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To go to with our need

On a weekly basis

And more often for

Needful reasons

Moment by moment,

Considering

Which is

The temple and the dwelling place

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One

Two

Three

Many

All

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C L Couch

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Photo by Joshua Eckstein on Unsplash

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