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I’ll Come Back Later for the Rite

I’ll Come Back Later for the Rite

(I know I need it)

 

I’m sorry I

Did so many things

So many things,

What,

Not perfectly?

Is that what I was thinking?

At the time, I didn’t think

But now I think back

I know, it’s getting foolish

I think that is

What I was thinking

Back of thinking, that

Everything could be done, yes

(I get it

I didn’t get it),

With perfection

If only I applied

Whatever we’re cajoled

Into applying

As in, if you’d only apply yourself

 

There is much less energy for this, now

Not because of age

But because of sadness

And some depression

(“more” mollified through medication)

Enough defeat, enough disappointment

In quantity and quality

To understand a little more

About humanity

Not to suss out

Philosophies of error

But to say at last, at least I’m one of you

Please don’t bother me anymore

For more

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Grant Whitty on Unsplash

 

Long Day’s Journey

Long Day’s Journey

 

It’s late on a long day

I have to go to the bathroom

I learned not to while a teacher

Not that it’s been a bad day

I got my car from the body shop

It had been hit without me in it

Some weeks ago

Now it looks shiny

(‘cause they washed it)

I’ll learn to use the clutch again

Since the rental was an automatic

I’ve been watching horror movies

Because it’s the end

Of October

‘Tis the season, as it were

I’m not a child

I didn’t watch with popcorn

I had some crackers with some Coke,

Which I tell myself

Is good for my stomach against

All the pills I take

At the moment, I feel too tired

To go to bed

Do you know the feeling?

I’m thinking you do

So Good Night, when we get to it

The clock has turned to 1-1-1

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Frankie Lopez on Unsplash

Night in Motion, Downtown Tucson AZ

 

Aurora

Aurora

 

Pink light

Surrounded by dark branches

Light inside forfends what’s

Left of night

It’s dawn,

The planet over it is

Always dawn

Sunset, too

I won’t have mine

For a while

What kind of light do you have

These moments

Where you are?

Or what kind of night?

The stars await our replies

Not because we’re wise

But because we can look up

A light pitch against

Gravity

 

C L Couch

 

 

Testa dell’ “Aurora” di Michelangelo (calco in gesso realizzato dalla Gipsoteca Fumagalli & Dossi, Milano).

Giuseppeconforti – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=71423489

 

Irides

Irides

 

I’ve noticed writers

Of mysteries, especially

Make eyes with

Improbable eye colors

The color of steel

Purple, amber

Blue so blue no sky could

Manage it

 

Thank goodness

We have not assigned a rank

For irises

 

They are the curtains for the windows,

Maybe

They are evocative

Entirely from outside

Inside them, I’m not sure

How much we

Care except in mirrors

That take us outside again

 

Though there’s the liking of,

It’s something,

A gift

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Ian Wetherill on Unsplash

Odenberg, Germany

 

Contact

Contact

 

The markers of the season have

Arrived:

Cold rain, color in the leaves

 

Paradox in brilliance dying

 

It’s in our lore;

It’s why we conflagrate the phoenix

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Hamed Daram on Unsplash

Abadan, Iran

 

Rainy Days and Mondays

Rainy Days and Mondays

(tribute, as it is)

 

She used the glissando too much

But was a fantastic singer

Then she got sick

I don’t know how it happens

Something in the head

The heart

The soul

We forget the present, cannot

See the future

Past is disconnected

Everything is disparate

Everything’s in pieces

 

Not that I knew her

I had an album, was all

And liked every selection

In the world, no big deal

But has only happened one other time

For me

The Eagles Greatest Hits

I even liked the baroquish piece

Fitting on the end of the first side

Telling us the singers had to leave

For now

To go to the bathroom

 

I don’t know how he handled it,

Her brother

Sad to say, I don’t know where he is

Or if he is

I can look it up

 

The death of the singer was a blip

In entertainment

Decades later, I am sad

Maybe more so

Untimely feels more untimely

Things that shouldn’t happen and that happen

Karen Carpenter is gone

We can say the music lives,

It does

When I have a stereo again

Because there’s been a dry spell

And a quiet one,

I’ll drop the record, as is said,

But, oh, so carefully

 

C L Couch

(drafted on a Monday)

 

 

Photo by Todd Quackenbush on Unsplash

 

Mystaken

Mystaken

 

A mystery

At night

Vespers

Lights off, no need

A single glow for reading

Another for the exit

 

I tell you a mystery

I’m not sure about the victim

Jesus

All of us from Eden

 

The perpetrator

The design behind

Agencies of evil

More than that, I cannot, may not say

 

The weapons

Hate

Anger turned into ambition

(it could have come from something else)

Wood

Nails

Hammer

Items for building

Turned to wreck

To rot

A life

From any usefulness

From beauty

 

The motive

Ask of us

 

Things to think about

Or feel through as

Later at night

Might turn to vigiling

 

Pray for us

The innocents

Those outside the drama

Now framed in viscerality

And doubt

 

The victims

Who should go to heaven

Deserving all reward

And will have none of it

But celebration

 

That’s for morning

Tonight we have a calm confusion

To keep

Cupped in each palm

(that might have held something else),

Paradox an artifact

Having a sharp edge

Maybe thorns

 

With care, then

All of us in darkling time

Taking up, taken or brought

To mystery

 

C L Couch

 

 

church at night.png

 

(moon) Image by Muhamad Ikhsan from Pixabay

(church image by) Lijonama80 – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=61976949

 

Life-Calling

Life-Calling

 

The seasons change, we know

Except in the middle

Where the change has more to do with

Now it grows, now it doesn’t

As in California (when I lived there)

There was a green time and a brown time

(still goes, I think, though a red time

must be added

for the fires)

But the Earth changes without

Relenting

 

And more of us are wondering

Where is it going

We care, I think, more and more

But here’s the thing:

We make life too hard for too many

Too many thirsty

Hungry

Fearful for shelter

Security in life

We shackle ourselves

And take too many with us

The lower, wider level of the pyramid doesn’t

Hasn’t

Had the chance

Much less completion

To be Maslovian about the metaphor

 

We need to decide that

Practically and spiritually

Life matters

That Maslow’s self-actualization model

And motive makes sense,

More so if we acknowledge other-actualization

To make that happen, too

We cannot fear for food

For jobs

For the chance to come together

Lovers, families

Present with at least a slight gaze

Toward the future

 

We say (some say), well, we must make profit

First

The world is an oyster

I’m not sure why this device

Except for pearls inside on

Occasion, though that is treasure

We might have, might not

Metaphors aside (though they are helpful

for the learning)

We are born with life

And life should be extended

It is its own virtue

(its own treasure)

Life warrants the living

For the Bedouin, the citizen in Hong Kong

Activist in South Sudan

Broker in Germany, cowboy in

Argentina, polar researcher

Suburban dweller in the U.S.A.

 

The pantheist, agnostic

Jainist, Buddhist, Hindu

Muslim, Jew, Christian (all kinds)

Those whose belief is not to have

But value the

Immediate

 

Those who see the spiritual in the land

Those who value more the material

Itself, instead

Nearly all has value

 

So those who can must choose

And choose for others

For the sake of motive and salvation

Of the world, others must matter more

Inconvenient, maybe

But there it is

It’s not a death to selfishness

The self is too important

But we make a web,

A net

For life

Where everyone might rest

In time

 

What prophecy might drive us

There are good words everywhere

But make life possible for all

Just short of boredom

Though wouldn’t that become the better

Problem?

For those who are angry

Those who are afraid

Those who feel need too desperately

To those who think that sin is better virtue

 

Like rough wood on a lathe,

Turning will be needed

An inner mission, not to be contorted

From outside

Much might be sacrificed before

Each part becomes a whole

Each one has a reason

For building in a season

 

What prophecy might drive us

The word upon our hearts

The mind once set on course

Better, if inspired, by

Stories in the stars

 

Like Rosie, We can do it!

Like Martin, we can dream

Like Tutu and the Dalai Lama, forgiveness

Can be forged

All good theory put in practice

A few absolutes to share

 

Life is good

Food and drink for life

Homes built

Pay earned

The chance to grow inside

To find and have

The pleasure in each day

 

It is not a promise for lesser accomplishment

But freedom to make so much more

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by balaji sundaram on Unsplash

 

Pumpkin Spice Girls

Pumpkin Spice Girls

 

Fall, fall

Then fall some more

It’s all right, it is the season

I guess all the seasons can be verbs,

Especially the quarter that is half a year

From now

 

Spring and fall

Fall then spring

This sounds all right

Pretty hopeful, really

 

Maybe there’s a joke in that,

See you in the spring

After you fall

 

Seasons that are seasoning

We spice our lives with them

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by George Gvasalia on Unsplash

Lake Lisi, Tbilisi, Georgia

 

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