(x = space)
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Waves
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What do I want
To say to you
That it’s a lovely day
In an eccentric way
Everything is played down
The takeover of fall
Changing tones on trees
And on the ground
Everything played down
Under a graying sky
With brighter sunlight
Coming through
From time to time
As if the wind
(I see it on the leaves)
Were pushing the clouds out
Or the sunlight in
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C L Couch
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Photo by Fineas Anton on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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Sabbath-Worthy
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Today should be a restful day
There’s law in it
And lore
There must be allowances
For first-responding
Daily labors that utilities
And farms require,
And I hope they’re given sabbath
Time another time
Those who take care of us
So we might have time
To eat and think and play
In ways that still
Qualify as still, that is,
Sabbath-worthy
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C L Couch
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Photo by Liset Verhaar on Unsplash
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note
And do I need to say this? (Maybe, if only for me.) Sabbath may happen on any day, as tradition or exigency requires.
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(x = space)
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Really
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My wish for you
Is that you know some peace today
Even if you think
You don’t want it
Yes
I’m praying for something
You don’t want because you’d rather enjoy
Vengeance
The passion that comes
In blaming someone else
For all misfortunes
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My sibling friends
Enjoy some peace
Not that I give it though I’m asking
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You might think it’s stupid
Weak and empty
Like a promise that we
Conveniently forget
But if Blake is correct that
Energy is delight
Then
I’m going to add a step to the syllogism
And argue A equals B equals C
(equals A)
That peace is energy
Leading the better way
To the rest
Of meaningful
Always in motion
Life
With all existence
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Peace is energy is delight
Thank you
Mister Blake
Thank you
Power in prayer
Even when
Upstart offered
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C L Couch
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In The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, William Blake writes “Energy is eternal delight.”
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Tivoli Gardens, København, Denmark
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(x = space)
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Counting Days
(days that count in pandemic time)
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You know, folks
Have a good weekend
I know there are fires
I know that in my land
The President is sick
So somewhere there are those
Discussing the Twenty-Fifth
While I imagine
He will act as if he’s tougher than disease,
Though he is not
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But we need to live
And it’s Friday afternoon
I will stop counting days
When I no longer lose
My way
If you told me it were
Tuesday,
I’d be inclined
To believe it
This should be,
As I say,
The year of doing nothing
What we need for life
Yes, fighting the fires
And retraining other violence
From nature, then,
And tragically
Of our design
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Otherwise, it should be
Science and care
Support the end of the disease
And watch out for each other
In the mean time,
Such watching out meaning
We’re busy
Feeding, sheltering,
And yes occupying
Each other
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It’s Friday afternoon
(I’m pretty sure)
Have a good weekend
Pray for the President
Pray harder
For citizens who
Did not ask for this
Pray for you
Pray for me
Praying for our aching world
Pray for peace in nature
And our designs
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C L Couch
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Photo by Keyvan Mansouri on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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Bike
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Today is Thursday
Is anyone paying attention?
I don’t mean that as a
Teacher might say
As Mister Frazier said in class
With his own separation
Of sound:
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You’re not paying attention a-TALL
He went
To our church, I think
His daughter was my age
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I do wish I had stayed there,
The old neighborhood
Not the first
But the one I really know
With all the
Inconsistencies
School in scattered buildings
Busing when we had to
Walking for the other grades
All inside years
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All the awkwardness in
Growing up, though for a time
There were always children
Up for games
At one house or another
Sometimes on
The street (there were cul-de-sacs)
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The old neighborhood was green
Except for asphalt
Into which I slid from time to time,
Which felt like gray
(memory is gray)
Except for red
Falling from my bike,
My big black bike with three whole
Gears, a hand-me-down from
My oldest brother
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I couldn’t ride it for a while
Thinking someone had to teach me
Then one day, I suppose, I’d had enough
Of waiting
I got up on a hillside
Rising from the driveway
Lifted the bike (it was tall),
Purchased myself upon it
Pushed away
Feet found the pedals
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I went in circles for a while
Then out on the street
All went pretty well
It was a good, gray day in early fall
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C L Couch
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Photo by Alex Mnatsakanov on Unsplash
Last days of fall, London.
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(x = space)
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Documentary
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Notre-Dame stands
It needs fixing
There should be two funds
Feed people with the first collection
Establish banks, fields to raise
Crops for the hungry
Not the shop-hungry
But the hungry-now
That would be Gothic-good, I think
Pointing a people toward the sky
Making sure they have
The strength to stand
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(“Resurrecting Notre-Dame,” If We Built It Today, The Science Channel)
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Photo by Emma Van Sant on Unsplash
Rataje nad sazavo, Czech Republic
sunlit golden barley ears
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(x = space)
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Tuesday Bible Study
(introduction)
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Chapter 16 in
Matthew,
Verses 13 through 19
The passage that’s about
A person
As a rock,
The church that doesn’t
Get a metaphor
But against which
The gates of hell
Cannot prevail
And I sigh, because
The church matters in
All this
And I don’t want it to
x
I want the church to have
No purpose
And to go away
Because it’s been
A source of abuse
And is a place
Where egos go to
Have their forces reinforced
While the better
Part of spirit
Goes unfed and hid
Inside a corner covered by
The Sunday best
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But there it is
The church
Uttered as a claim
By Christ
Maybe it started
In that moment
With Peter set as
The foundation
(maybe not a pope
but the beginning
and a papa in that way)
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And the church
(nonetheless)
So strong
That hell, the keeper
And the hider of
All evil
Has not chance to last,
Even though hell might
Seem to be doing pretty well
Just now
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So what is
The church?
It is a place we go to
To worship
That is first, I think
Some say
That worship has two parts,
Word and sacrament
We learn something close
About our
Scripture,
And then there is a
Sacred act for us
To take part in
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Both parts inspiring
Everything we do
Once outside, again
To encounter in and as
The new week
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I guess that’s useful
And it’s spiritual
And if the
Spirit of God is there,
There is a source
As well an imprimatur
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But for the cynical,
I understand and am
With you
I’d like to think a church-less
Faith is possible,
Though I must wrestle
(maybe
in a bout
not un-Jacob-like)
With authenticity
With
(and this is griping)
All the excuses
The church gives itself
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There, I’m out
Of energy
Maybe I try too hard
To find my own resources
Maybe I’m missing
Something
That would
Feed me well
Maybe all this should be
For next Tuesday
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C L Couch
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[from Matthew 16]
[13] When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, He questioned His disciples: “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” [14] They replied, “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” [15] “But what about you?” Jesus asked. “Who do you say I am?” [16] Simon Peter answered, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” [17] Jesus replied, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by My Father in heaven. [18] And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build My church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. [19] I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.”
Berean Study Bible (cited at biblehub.com)
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Photo by Sonaal Bangera on Unsplash
This is an island about 30 minutes from the coastal area of Udupi in Karnataka, India. Beautiful place, clean waters, more shells, less sand. 🙂
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(x = space)
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Precipitous Evolution
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We have atomic bombs
In silos, ready to launch
There is a pandemic
We’re trying to ignore
Despite the rise in cases
Second wave, extension of
The first
We’ve heated up the Earth
So that volcanos and
Windstorms, forest fires
Are all readier
Their unleashing is worse
Could nature ever be
Our friend again?
But we are consumed with
Human ratings on TV and in
Our other media:
They must exist, they must
Be good or something’s
Terribly wrong with us
Though there are better
Judges than celebrities
What shall we say,
We’re living on the edge?
Not of adventure
But of living
Plainly if at all
Yes, I know it’s preachy
But I want you tomorrow,
People and the Earth
Everything that lives and breathes
And maybe changes
Under a too-tolerant God
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C L Couch
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(x = space)
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Boxen
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After filling boxes
Moving boxes,
Filling them again
Trying to keep empty boxes
In one place,
Filled boxes in another
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Then realizing there’s too
Little space for all
The boxes and myself,
I pause
x
This isn’t any way to live
But I’m not planning (and not
moving boxes)
For a lifestyle,
Though it’s true my life
Has been in containers and
In stacks on shelves
Until it all came here
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Where without office
Space (or shelves),
Everything got bigger
As in more in the way
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So I’ve tried to push things
Near the door to show
Myself they’re on the way
Out
Even though
Except for the idle offer,
No one is showing I know of
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Which makes me sigh
Thank goodness for
The ceilings;
They’re cracking and they’re peeling
But they are up
High
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And I am thankful
For the space above,
The tall windows I can
See through yet
And in that slightly higher air
Envision
Many things,
Among them
Boxes being gone
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C L Couch
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Boxen is the world Jack Lewis and his brother Warnie imagined when they were children.
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Photo by Guillaume Bolduc on Unsplash
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