Psalm 27
a birthdate song
My day once a month,
Nine times three or
Thrice three multiplied
Such numeric niceties:
How much do they
Matter?
I make special one day
In my own way, taking
The number to own
Eccentrically
My little arrangement,
My small deal, to
Negotiate in the world
A little something
Shadowed that is mine
Small possessions, Lord,
Do you mind?
I’m guessing not
We all need to remake
Certain days
Recessionista
My word for the day,
My gift from Oxford
Dictionaries (add a
Circle-R or TM, I’m
Sure)
Define—a woman who
Remains stylish, given
Limited means (I
Paraphrase)
That’s good work
Now define a woman
North American Union
(not NAFTA, more than)
So my friend Dennis
Who taught me how
To smoke a pipe (don’t
Worry; the pipe for
Years now serves only
As a decoration)
Well, Dennis once
Posited a plan—that
Canada and Mexico
Merge with USA
Dennis from Canada,
I the USA, while we
Lived and worked
Close by the San-Diego-
Tijuana border; we
Spoke of our
Now-new nation (and,
Admittedly, this is
Somewhat stereotypical
Thinking from thirty
Years ago), a country
Enjoined: vast resources
Of nature in the north
With great human ability,
From the south with ever-
New technologies from
The land between
So there, Dennis, shared
In time of friendship,
Knowing that all mortal
Things are finite and
So need care to last then
Maybe last again,
Shall we disassemble
Walls—add a writhing
Serpent into bald eagle’s
Claws, all set upon
Autumnal maple leaf—
This our new metaphor
To try?
Perhaps this is a time
To arrange triangles of
Tables, negotiating
Continents of possibility
Ruah
I have a Hebrew
Book; it is
Beautiful
I don’t know Hebrew
(I, feeling like a fool,
Confess)
A few words translated,
Transliterated
Such as ruah
The wind,
The breath
Out of which
Our God
Creates
As I say,
Beautiful
(in wake of USA candidate debates)
“America Great Again”
Presumes, first, that America
Was great; second, that
America is not great now;
Third, that the way to save
America is retro-work—to
Move back
Americans (from both
Continents) were majestically
Successful in overturning
At deadly, awful, perilous
Cost the evil that was Nazi
Warring by crazed leadership
America (USA) is great with
Wealth and resources,
Though deserves skeptic
Observation in generosity
And evened opportunity;
and while one can appreciate
What are traditional, even
Foundational, values, the
Way ahead is not behind
Returning to the basics
Doesn’t work—though we
Can move forward to the
Basics, crafting and cementing,
Dreaming and creating these
Anew—this way makes USA
Great for a new time, which
Now is a smarter reason to
Elect then, wisely, move forward
If Only, If Only
if only, if only
the stars weren’t so lonely
with great space between
tell me, what does it mean
might we now in time
be closer than rhyme
inspired by Annie at What the Woman Wrote
(https://whatthewomanwrote.wordpress.com/)
and Louis Sachar in Holes
(Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1998)
My Own Valentine
(prose poem)
My own little Valentine celebration. I guess we celebrate feast days, though these are the days in which the saints have died. Martyrdom—we celebrate? Well, I bought little round pink plates with small square napkins to match. I am drinking coffee with little croissants on one of those pink plates, dabbing with a small square napkin. Watching the pope visit Mexico.
Where is love? Is it there? Is it here? Is it intertwined through both places and all other places? And the people? Are we bound in red silken ties of love? Free to move yet tied so that, when we might fall, others are there gently (remember, silk) to pull us up and on.
Quizás.
Goodness, the president of Mexico is good-looking. He speaks of “a better community” (translated), “a better society.” A better world, I imagine. Why not? Here’s a chance to speak of objectives and ideals in a country toward which too many look askance.
Quizás.
clcouch123 
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