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Burnt Cabins, Pennsylvania

Burnt Cabins,

Pennsylvania

 

We’ve suffered

A local tragedy

That might never

Be explained

Even if a reason’s

Given

 

We have a super

Highway—yes,

America’s

First “super

Highway”—that

Is the Pennsylvania

Turnpike, and

A retired trooper

Of the state

Police tried a

Robbery at one

Of the stations

There

 

Between small

Towns in the

Allegheny Mountains,

Two workers

Are taken, held

By his gun,

Until the truck

Arrives to gather

Monies from the

Turnpike tolls

 

The theft occurs

And fails, the

Captives shot

And killed; the

Officer-now-

Suspect is killed,

Too

 

Serving troopers

Prepared and

assigned, had

Arrived to restore

An aberrant,

Criminal scene

Back to ordinary

 

Nothing ordinary

Anymore here:

With tears, the

Deaths are told

 

Each word

Sounding like

The heavy note

Of a mourning

Bell

 

Sadness ringed

Round sadness,

As voices split

To tell

 

It will be a

Story of

Transgression

And the sorrow

Brought to many

Kinds of

Families, and

It might pass

From focused

Attention

 

But here was a

Neighbor tragedy

On persons who

Will not

Appear in their

Expected places

At work or at

Home

 

And others living

Who will never

Be the same

 

A chance for

Money maybe

Too easy a

Reason for all

That befell

Close by—I

Tend to believe

 

Something else

About surrendering

Life happened

Here

Last Winter Sun

Last Winter Sun

 

The sun is wan today,

A last winter sun

 

Spring has been promised

Through the weather

Turns so far

 

And parochial nature

Will not disappoint

A tiding of her own

 

New days come forth

In warming days up north

Passion Play

Passion Play

 

1

 

Today we wave palms

Or not—some churches

Seem to wait—in an

Enactment, a kind of

Remembrance

 

Passion starts, a brief

Season of

 

Intimacy overthrown,

Though given first by

The hand of God through

Child, prophet, and

Teacher

 

One who was three

 

On Thursday, many

Christians will recall:

He names adherents

No longer only followers

But now as friends

 

Goes to prayer, Son of

Us, before taken away

 

2

 

Carried with will toward

Interrogation, torture

 

Final testimony that

Renders him seditious

To the crowd, numbered

Of all the world we

Knew

 

Beaten and burdened

With his means of execution

He is taken on the way

With escort disciplined

 

Through a mob that,

More and more, loses its

Human shape and

Recognition

 

We mock, refute, then

Pierce his skin to leave

Him, a criminal, dying

With due scorn upon an

Iron tree

 

3

 

We wave palms,

Festive and endearing,

A likable rite that we

Prepare

 

Later in the week we

Wrap his wounds in

Bearing our bound

Innocence into a tomb

Beside which stands

 

A stone door carved

With the world’s skill

Ready to be shut against

All consequence

Following Simplicity

Following Simplicity

 

Faith is not stupid

But it has to be gotten

(Be-gotten)

And owned by anyone

 

I can’t think of an

Authentic tradition

In the world of faith

That does not have

Its scholars

 

Faith is smart

With aspects of intelligence

That keep generations

Dealing in the finer

Points of interpretation

And practice

 

This work is nuanced

And important

But faith itself

 

Can be caught, cared

For, and grown

By anyone

 

For the blind can see

The deaf can hear

The lame can walk

The path can be traversed by

 

Whoever each is now

Whoever each is not

 

In fact, the less the better

To possess

On the way of faith

In Memoriam 17 March

In Memoriam 17 March

 

I miss you, friend

I drank scotch (not Jameson’s)

At your wake

 

You always liked this day

When we celebrate the troubles

And pray through beer for

 

Peace—you are in heaven, now

While I remain on a

Purgatory of earth

 

I believe; and I hope to see

You someday, which is more

Of an Amish than an Irish

 

Thing to say

Be in peace and joy and all

Green in forever living

Lines

Lines

 

the headline is

Nigeria mosque targeted

in suicide bomb attack

 

the ones with bombs were

women, one woman

inside, one woman outside

to catch those fleeing

from the first

 

two Muslims targeting

their own, killing and

wounding many

 

like the group at the

Christian church in South

Carolina, studying the

Bible when one’s own

opened fire

 

and, like Bible study, the

faithful at the mosque

(outskirts of Maiduguri)

were worshiping in prayer

 

C L Couch

 

(source Al Jazeera on 16 March)

Uber Man

Uber Man

 

Nietzsche misapplied

 

He is insane certainly

Though for the dead

That is no excuse

 

Merging of A-I with

Devilry (all tragic kinds)

Mythos and job

Conditions

 

Mindset foundation

Made of broken parts

And images, like

Rock upheaval when

 

Nature breaks in anger

Or remorse upon the

Earth

 

The driving’s done

Next civil movements

Decide and, at the

Last, enact

 

Salve released into

Chasms

 

Human libation

Offered in the cup

Divine participation

Hoped

 

C L Couch

 

http://www.freep.com/story/news/local/michigan/2016/03/14/kalamazoo-shooting-reports-released-what-he-told-his-wife/81762070/

eccentric impoverishment

eccentric impoverishment

 

I believe in odd things

in the creeping things of scripture

in the texture of flower petals

that hold the elixir of hope

for nature

 

in that which doesn’t last but

really does

kind encounters with strangers

(kind when strangers encount-

with me)

joy in small things

joy even on a day that’s dim

with unlined sky

for creative impossibilities

 

the world doesn’t value the

arcane

things or my eccentric way of

loving them

 

so how am I to live

 

in response

I do not know is first

with fear closely behind

 

how do I live for real I mean

 

how does a world set so differently

(or I so differently to it) agree

and arrange to pay for who I am

and what I do and how

 

how do I find my way with

only colors in the corners

if I must direct myself toward

a blander needle point

 

but I need the life of hope in

creativity with the world

 

who salaries that

 

who pays me

for that artful amorphous

life

Lost World

Lost World

 

A borough in

Western Pennsylvania

(towns are called

Boroughs) that

Died when steel died

 

And, unlike the city

Close by (that is only

Called a city),

There was no

Rising up,

No Easter-kind

Experience

 

Anything that might

Be beautiful is old

From the time

When beauty

Could be afforded

 

The bones of

Some buildings are

Strong, while

Others stand ready

To fall over

With a sigh

 

Children attend

A consolidated

School in the area,

Learning to

Leave already

 

The bar owner

Can’t afford it

But must have

The place

Open anyway

 

For where else

Can one

Drink hope

 

Persistence alone

Without substance

Keeps life

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