(x = space)
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Gift Exchange
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A moment for a moment
An exchange for something better
If it had to be a memory
A moment when things seemed right
In the world,
Then I’d have to ask for something better
Something beyond me
Something good for you as well,
And the circle
That we are
And live upon
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C L Couch
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Photo by Kelli McClintock on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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Presenced
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It should not come to this
But God
Rescue us
With miracle
Maybe miracles all around
Friend and foe alike
Even on the blooded field
Now turned
For fallow ground
Ready for
New planting
New heaven and new
Earth
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C L Couch
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Photo by Quaritsch Photography on Unsplash x
(x = space)
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Break, Break, Break
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I feel the weight
Of everything
And my heart can’t take it
Well, it can
I hope it can
It’s the manifestations of emotions
The effects
Of what has happened
Bad news
Does it get worse
Or does it feel worse?
Maybe I’m enduring
Or preparing
Where is Nietzsche’s strength?
Whatever doesn’t kill us
Leaves scars
Hard tissue
And doesn’t acclimate us
Better than
A more pedestrian process
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No, as it goes on
We might become inured
While underneath
Our hearts
Break and break again
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C L Couch
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“Break, Break, Break”
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
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Photo by Tobias Tullius on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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weight of glory
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what do we say
sometimes the weight is too much
it presses down like gravity
on a wide planet far away
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is there grace in the stars
the kind that made them,
I suppose
the love that means covalence
molecular intimacy
and from there through our bodies
back to the stars
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c l couch
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photo by Radu Chelariu on Unsplash
when I saw this at first, I thought it was a field of stars
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(x = space)
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Homers
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A brother gone
Another brother going
Like homers from the park
What’s on the other side
Of the stadium,
We wonder
Though we know
The town outside
The city of disorganized noise
With the ritual
Inside the designed
Space
With bases and a plate
Clean lines
Maintained swarths of green
This is what we know
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On the other side
Is chaos
And unknown
There are streets in heaven
There might be traffic patterns
Something to guide
The hit,
The sail home
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C L Couch
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Photo by Andrew Jephson on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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Ranger Rick
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Last I dreamed about
My brother Rick
And about raccoons
Raccoons probably because
I saw images of red pandas
And understand
That red pandas are not bears
But more like raccoons
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My brother Rick because
We’re talking about
His last months
And hospice
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Raccoon Rick
Wasn’t there a Ranger Rick
And was he, if he, not a raccoon?
Or was the raccoon
A sidekick or an animated
Symbol generally
Like Smokey the Bear?
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Telling us
To live safely
Preventing forest fires
By keeping our own
Fires inside the ring
And dousing them completely,
After
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Safety toward
Cancer, metastasized
Keep everyone comfortable,
I suppose
Deal palliatively
Everyone on all sides
Of the cancer
Fighting, still
As much as they can
Capability
Will
The fight
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C L Couch
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Photo by Michael Payne on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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Thessaloniki
(from a skeptic maybe unknowing, maybe envious)
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To the Thessalonians,
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God wrote you twice
Once was not enough
Why not?
All the other cities
Jerusalem
New York
That did not get a postcard
Or a phone call
A telegram to say with urgency,
Wake up
And smell the western Asian coffee
You got two letters
It could be said you’re twice as bad
Or that the urgency was dear
Are you better now?
I should come to see you
How you’re doing
But I don’t have a camel or a burro
And Land Rovers are expensive
I have to see the wall
Through video eyes
Though I hope my prayers
Are real enough
I write my petitions
And read your letters
(I see you’re actually
pretty good)
Hope for the best
And signing off
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C L Couch
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Prove all things; hold fast that which is good.
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Photo by Elena Theodoridou on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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Piecemeal
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I wish there were no war
I wish peace could abound
And not forestall
I wish we made enough
And a little more
For neighbors, strangers,
Celebrations
I wish the world were not a mess
Unless it could come out
Cookies on the other side
And a centerpiece
For a long, long table
Levels and heights to accommodate
With chairs of many sizes
Everyone invited
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C L Couch
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Photo by Obi – @pixel6propix on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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How We Ate
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Somehow,
We had turkey
On Thanksgiving and on
Christmas though not at any
Other time of year,
Not even from the deli
We had ham at Easter
Corned beef and cabbage on
Saint Patrick’s Day
Pork and sauerkraut for New Year’s
Cheeseburgers and fries,
Holiday cookies on
Christmas Eve
On Valentine’s my mother would make
And serve a two-later, pink
Heart-shaped cake
Speaking of cake, the Easter cake
Was made into the shape of
A bunny with coconut
For fur
With cardboard ears
The insides colored pink
With the carnation crayon,
Then all laid upon a grass of green-
Dyed coconut with jelly beans
Scattered in the grass
My brother Rick taking black jelly-beans
To place behind the bunny’s butt,
Which aggravated my mother
Every year
That was family holiday food
I could be missing something
We ate well
Better and better,
I’m thinking each year
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C L Couch
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Photo by Maddy Hunt on Unsplash
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(no, we didn’t eat bunnies—we were bunnies)
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