(x = space)
x
x
Ow
x
I rock my back
My back says ow
My mouth forgets to say
x
I fell down some stairs
Last night
It’s still a curiosity
x
I didn’t have to sacrifice
The plate that I was holding
Ow, I’m learning
x
C L Couch
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Photo by Szabo Viktor on Unsplash
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(x = space)
x
x
Banned Books Week
x
We put the titles
On a cup
And I see books I have enjoyed
And those I could have
Lived without,
Which means discretion
Not the better part of valor
The valor is in standing up for books
With earnest stories
And a style
And all of us
Won’t like all of them
And that’s all right
That is democracy
That I hear is a fine thing
For neighborhoods and nations
And a floating planet
Wanting the approval of gravity
In the cosmos
x
Banning books
Is a step
Not an easy step, I hope,
To burning books
And, you know, books of religion
Should they be read
Are the first ones to go
Books of the human spirit—well,
That might be all of them—go
Next
And we are left
Without touchstones,
The things that keep ideas for us
From slipping unanchored
Into a seastorm and the winds
Of every doctrine
x
If there is beauty in a book
We should preserve it
If there is truth as well,
That’s better
(Keats is on to something)
If it’s dull, it won’t matter
In the thought
And will ban itself
x
Children are not stupid
They’re not grown-up, either
There are grown-ups all around
Who must be wise
Keep matches from the books
Keep censoring away
Don’t throw everything
At everyone
Let children be children
Let them learn
Let them grow
Rethink the considerations of them
As a laborforce
For ideas
They are Cook
Without agenda
We are Endeavour
x
C L Couch
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x
Photo by Jeremy Bezanger on Unsplash
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(x = space)
x
x
Sleeper Awake
x
It’s 69 degrees
(Fahrenheit)
At (twelve-oh-five, we say)
12:05
x
Fall arrives
And hobbits,
The birthdays
Of the Bagginses
x
New season
With an equinox
Autumnal
To complement
The vernal
By a half,
Half a year,
Half a world
x
We tilt into another
And existentially
A new one
x
We have not had
Today
Or this changing
Of the Earth
Around 11
Post-meridian
x
Here is the same season
As a new one,
New seconds
Newly breathed
Into hours
And an age
Collectively
x
Spring to the south,
Autumn
To the north where
Where there
Might be dragons
In their lairs.
Then
We bring in cold air
And awaken them
x
We think fall
Might be the readiness
For freezing,
Sleeping winter;
And yet
(like new school years
for young ones
and for teachers)
Here and now
The adventure,
The quest
Might begin
x
C L Couch
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x
Photo by Hans Isaacson on Unsplash
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(x = space)
x
x
What Number Pain Today
x
I don’t know
Or recall
Who came up with
Quiet desperation
Perhaps a modern poet
I hope you
Don’t have to live that way
Something inside
That found its way
A sidling kind of thing
That won’t let go
It could be memory
Or money
The potential for a scandal
Or simply a lot of pain
Not the kind that
Inspires a statue
And who needs that?
x
Pain is a reaction
A response
Also a signal
Can keep in the inner workings
Working
It should have an end
Not simply a measure
But that’s what
Therapy
Or medication’s for
x
Or simply bearing
Old body pains
A place of wounding
In the spirit
We can keep
Except sometimes we can’t
Then the therapy
Or medication’s needed
Prayer
Companionship
Companionship in prayer
x
Aquarius bears water
The libation bearers, well,
Libation
As offerings
Atlas
Or the elephant
Bears the world
And there’s the story of Saint Christopher
Who carried Christ, not knowing
It was Christ, through water
And a storm
And the child’s weight increasing
Until the one who carried him must say
He bore the weight
Of the world
And did bear
x
Carry weights
And pains
And as pains are signals
Pay attention
Carry,
I mean carry,
Carry on
x
C L Couch
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x
Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash
x
the phrase “quiet desperation” is by Thoreau in Walden
x
(x = space)
x
x
The Game of Life
x
I’m not ready
I wasn’t ready for my
Comprehensives
I did fine
I wasn’t ready
For my mother to be sick
I did what I could
I contributed
She rallied
I won’t be ready
For the next big thing,
I think in children’s media called
The NBT
I doubt we’re ready
For most things,
You know?
They happen anyway
And we respond
We do well
We don’t
We try
We retreat
We come out again
x
We are changed
For the next time
Though it might not be
In kind
But we pick up things
They get tucked away
Consequently,
And whether consciously or not,
We can reach into the drawer
Of the file cabinet
Pull open the door
Of the mind palace
At a little more
Since in the keep
As in the world
There are treasures
Set from the beginning
And we’re always
On the hunt
Solving the riddle
Finding other puzzles
Finding keys
x
Life, folks
That’s what we got
In all this
x
C L Couch
x
x
A Game of Concordia
Photo by Karthik Balakrishnan on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Old
x
We get old
Forgetting we were young
No one would believe us
White hair
No hair
Everything takes longer
We wonder what to do with our day
An irony
On irony
We know more
Unless we gave that up
Stopping in our heads
Sometime ago
We could grow
We have things to say
Who wants to listen?
The gray become unseen
Unheard
x
C L Couch
x
x
x
(x = space)
x
x
Abbey Road
x
Tomorrow
A service
At Westminster
The building will serve
The people will be served
With liturgical goodbyes
x
I don’t know what she wrote for
Entry into Poets’ Corner
Maybe nothing
Maybe she’ll only visit there
From time to time
To listen
To the works
Or the squabbles
Among minds
(the laureates she knew
plus others)
x
We may salute her
For her military service
“Princess Auto Mechanic”
And she knew her work
Dear in wartime
x
Or try this—Your Majesty
Elizabeth
We hard knew ye
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by abdullah ali on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Genesism
x
We were thrown out:
Don’t blame Eve,
I don’t;
The serpent could have
Just as easily
Caught Adam first
And both fall
After choosing to take bites
x
And if you believe
The woman had such power,
Go ahead—I
Wouldn’t stop you
x
Did they see the angel,
Looking back?
The orange or the yellow
Of a blade on fire?
Feel the heat?
Did they know for sure
They must go another way,
Not to return
For ages?
x
Well, they were given
Clothing,
They were given curses
Also callings,
They knew what they’d have to do
To live;
And so with their descendants,
So with us,
The myth goes on
For hunters and for music;
We build a tower
To do better than the curses
x
The tower falls;
We cannot speak to each other,
Anymore
x
So we build in separation;
Cities rise
And as must follow
Empire:
Strong people rule somehow
And we let their children rule
x
Was it worship
Or respect
Or indifference?
We had our farms to tend;
Soon there would be machines
x
We raised walls
To keep ourselves upon the plains,
Set outposts in the mountains,
Surrounded waterways,
x
And with food
And bright blades
Secured the promises
Of generations
x
Nation went to war
Against nations;
Many gods were worshipped,
Some directed
x
We have stone
And paper manuscripts
And ruins upon ruins
That are testimonies
x
And are we rising?
We hope so;
There are awful, lateral movements
And descensions—call
Them massacres,
Call slavery,
Call rule by one
With only one served,
One living well
x
Democracy is rising;
Call it something else;
We keep at it
x
How about
Soon we grow
Without anything but growth?
x
After-Eden flaws remain;
Maybe we’ll understand at last
Divinities approving
Of mortality,
Mortal accountancy
In meeting needs,
Accountability,
Repentance,
And renewal
x
Rockets go toward the moon,
Soon with people
Who will stay awhile
While we aim for Mars,
Send rockets to the rest;
We hope the Voyagers
Will find friends
x
We’re not perfect,
We’re not even better
x
If we keep our flaws,
And we own mortality
Then we’ll do all right
For legacy:
The joy in now
x
C L Couch
x
x
Water, Light, and Long Shutter Speeds
Photo by Ahmad Dirini on Unsplash
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