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God through Sleepy Eyes

(x = space)

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God through Sleepy Eyes

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God through sleepy eyes

I ask for this or that:

For health for my family

Keeping safe my friends

Even my enemies

(safe and far from me)

For some peace everywhere

In the world

And on the other side of sky

For a good day tomorrow

And a pony

(scratch the pony—wait,

now I’m scratching it

between the ears)

There is or should be

More but I am sleepy

And the day is ending

I’ll think of more

Tomorrow

In the new day

In the seconds

As you give them,

As I remember or I don’t

To pray for them

Thank you

And I pray

You have a good night, too

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C L Couch

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We were on the road in the Dolomites the day before the lunar eclipse with our van when we found out that we are very close to an observatory. We headed off there the next day and took this awesome picture on top of the mountain.

Photo by Niklas Priddat on UnsplashUntereggerhof, Cornedo All’isarco, Italy

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Sore Afraid

(x = space)

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Sore Afraid

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Sometimes

I am frightened

Maybe you are,

Too

It’s not an easy

Feeling,

Though it informs

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They are not

Coming back

This feeling means

An illness

A trust is broken

We feel alone,

At last

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Fear of the unknown,

Sometimes the known

An impulse

From inside

An instinct

Made

From outside

Like layers

Added at the wheel

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Fear

We should not

Work with,

Fear we must

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C L Couch

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Photo by veeterzy on Unsplash

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It’s Time

(x = space)

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It’s Time

(writing, reading)

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I need to set down

Something

For your interest

Or your pleasure,

Something to

Move you if

Only a little from

Where you are

To where you might go

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Do you mind the morning?

Do you rest at noon or

Breathe deeply

From time to time?

That’s not me

That’s you

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Maybe, then,

We share the interest

And the pleasure

In exploring deeply breathing

If in turns

From time to time

In turns

From time to time

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C L Couch

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Autumn Drive

Photo by Connor Humiston on Unsplash

Independence Pass, CO, USA

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Petition under Glass

(x = space)

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Petition under Glass

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Liturgy is fine

Laid there year by year

Sunday by Sunday

Or Saturday, if chosen

Sometimes daily

Or whenever

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We pick the pages up

And they have meaning

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We follow nothing

When we sit

Or lie or stand

And weep the words

That matter more

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For being nothing set

In stone,

A book resting upon wood

All consecrated,

But what pouring from

The heart

Like rain or wine

Mattering more,

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The living need

The urgent cry

To God

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C L Couch

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Photo by Bianca Berg on Unsplash

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God Inside

(x = space)

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God Inside

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God inside

Next to the spark

Gently suppling air

Ready for cupping

Should there be

A blast

Working through

The arteries

From outside

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C L Couch

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Heart model to explain how the heart works to patients.

Photo by Robina Weermeijer on Unsplash

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Ultra People

(x = space)

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Ultra People

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I’m not an action figure

Never was

Don’t need the cape

Like Superman

Or the long coat

Of Doctor Who

Don’t need a phonebooth

To the stars

Unless I really, simply want

To explore

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Don’t have powers

Death rays from the eyes

And such

Don’t need to fly

Without an airplane

Or balloon

(though I really, really wish I could)

Don’t need to have

My brain increased

Extra organs

Added

Preternatural strength for

Fighting vampires or

Solving the universe

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I am me

You are you

Without the uniforms

Or leagues

We’re still okay

Viable for God

And planet Earth

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C L Couch

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Puerta de Alcalá by Night

Photo by Jose Antonio Gallego Vázquez on Unsplash

Madrid, Spain

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Gambia

(x = space)

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Gambia

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Most of the victims

Came from Gambia,

Which is in

Africa

So if you’re not in the Bronx

Or hip to Africa

Or a citizen of the world,

You might think

Nothing to do with me

(with you)

But like the car tracks

In a race,

The threads around a badge,

The scuffs on any old thing

That’s round,

Well,

There is connection

The relationships go on

The consequences

Shared

The human race enlivened

Or withered

By what we do

What we think

You and me

Right now

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Let’s look up Gambia

And follow news about

The fire in the Bronx

That killed

So many

New Yorkers

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God take them home

While we mourn and

Work it out here

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C L Couch

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New York Bronx fire a ‘shock in our country’ Gambia ambassador says

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Fire on the river coast, Autumn

Photo by Egor Vikhrev on Unsplash

Ivanovo, Россия

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Diocletian Martyr

(x = space)

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Diocletian Martyr

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In my cell I see a bird

I think the bird is

The spirit of God

I don’t know for sure

Until the bird speaks,

Speaks to me

Without words

This is a real cell

A cell from which I will be taken

To die

At the hands of one

Who can command it

Though cannot command anything

About my soul

God has come to comfort me

To tell me I belong to God

And will be meeting

With God, soon

In a closer way

I could not know on Earth

The pain might be quick

It might be long

The bird does not tell me,

Imperial will having its own way

Despotic yet

Graced with freedom

As is mine*

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I could have been quiet

I needn’t have said anything

When questioned

Or at the corner

Where I told the story

Of God’s goodness,

Standing on the edge

Of all I knew

And soon would lose

I don’t know what happens next

In terms of what I gain

Maybe a mansion

Maybe nothing

I don’t permit myself an expectation

But relationship

Knowing my loved ones

Once here,

Beholding curing

Of my enemies

And me of them

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Great harmony

Before the Lord

And the Lord

Who might dance with me

While the angels sing

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C L Couch

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*(in freedom

   maybe grace

   we are all despots)

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Looking Up

Photo by Prince David on Unsplash

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Puritan Winter

(x = space)

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Puritan Winter

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Snow covers

Rain reveals

Ice seals it all in

Now comes the

Revealing time,

The winter

Against all our

Boasted showings

The green is gone

The brown and black reveal

Who we are

What we have

How plain it can become

Without verdant protection

Without the sheen

Of summer

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But this is good

We have the chance

To be ourselves,

To rely ourselves

On heat

And goodness from above

Below

The goodness of our neighbors

And the sovereignty

Of God above

Below

Wherever is

Creating

And the mortal need

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C L Couch

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Migrating birds over the misty forests of Norway.

Photo by Fredrik Solli Wandem on Unsplash

Heggenes, Norge

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