(x = space)
x
x
Taproot
x
The brown blade sinks
And feeds the seed
That was a part
x
Seeds that sleep through
Cold time
Far enough
North or south
x
Something new and all the same
For being new
Will rise in spring
x
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x
x
The Colors of Nature Caught on a Hike
Photo by Don Raridon on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
All These Worlds
x
God, help our
Nation to be good
Our world to be great
The cosmos, when
Receiving us,
Never-ending wonder
And discovery
x
Liturgic wishing
Into prose action
New metaphors required
Upon each arrival
In a spaceship
On a new shore,
Bearing guilt and hope
Germs and solutions
x
Ready to eat there and
To take some sips from
A silver sea
x
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x
x
The International Space Station
x
(x = close)
x
x
Impromptu
x
I get started
I get tired
This is something new
Age or medications
Take your pick
But sometimes when I’m
Relatively still
My eyes want nothing more
Than to close
And sometimes I follow through,
Which is also something new
x
I set aside my small machines
Stretch out with
A pillow
Here or there
Close my eyes the way
My grandfather closed
His,
Afterward
Saying
Just resting my eyes
x
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x
x
While watching the lions on the right and 100 meters far from us, we did not see this nice guy was sleeping 3 meters next to us in the bush on the left side of our car. But he did awake gently . . .
Photo by Andreas Berlin on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
The Once King without a Future
(23 November 1963)
x
We were told he was a king
Who lived in Camelot
I didn’t know
I was a child and
At home
We didn’t talk about the king
I have a memory from school
Then at home
In following days
In front of the TV
My mother ironing, behind
x
A king
A coup d’état
The vice-king became king
The jesters all moved over
And up one
x
Mostly, he was killed
His wife picked up a piece of him
For the doctors
The killer then was killed
And that killer died
x
And we all moved over in the nation
Though we did not move up
There was no domino
There was a funeral
That everyone attended
For me
And children like me,
It was in black and white
x
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x
x
x
(x = space)
x
x
Wounded Eagle
x
Did Ben Franklin really want
The emblem of the nation
Be the wild turkey?
Maybe so,
Though it’s hard when
One sees eagles in flight
To pick something else
x
In Cincinnati
At the zoo
Was an enclosure
For a bald eagle
Wounded and then rescued,
An enormous structure
For the one
Who would only fly
Partially again,
Such was the hurt
x
Netted magnificence
Still magnificent
Worthy for a nation
That’s somehow wounded, too,
And still can fly
x
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x
x
While living in Cincinnati, I used to visit this eagle at the zoo. I trust I remember enough and am witnessing correctly.
x
For one season, I was able to photograph eagles at a nest. They were not bothered by my presence and in the morning the light was reasonably good. Sadly, that winter the tree blew down, and I have yet to find such an ideal site for eagle photography.
Photo by Richard Lee on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
An Appointment with God
x
I don’t’ have so many appointments
Lately,
For which I’m grateful
In a time of my kind of PTSD,
It’s the weight of stressors
I don’t have to bear
So much
x
To get there
To show up on time
To be here when I’m called
To have everything I
Might be needing
Relieved of this
Makes for a better day
x
I’d like to live easy
I don’t have much
But to have time
And on the flip side
Lack of bother
On the A side
Coffee and toast
And morning
And a day for you
x
Someday will arrive
I keep forgetting
You will arrive
To take me to home
By then,
Maybe I shall be glad
Meanwhile, I keep my faith
With me and then I
Hope with
The Amish
Who say, one by one,
I hope so
When asked about assurance
Of salvation
x
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x
x
I think it was the poet Julia Kasdorf, as I may have said before, who told me about the typical response when Amish are asked the salvific question.
x
Waves
Photo by Bernd Dittrich on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Empathic
x
How pleasant
To talk like Gollum
Without the throat-call
But to say eggses
And even Baggins,
We hates it
Forever
x
It don’t know,
It is a menace
And a villain
But all the buzzing
All the hissing
Like bees and snakes
x
They fuss
They sting
There is a threat
To suffocate and kill
They are all villains
Without sympathy
And yet they call for sympathy
The sounds
The creature
Of their origin
And all origins
Of s sounds
Of sympathy
And of pain
x
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x
x
John Ronald Reuel Tolkien wrote in a room in their house. At his feet, there was an electric heater, the kind with a plastic face that looks like flames. He loved languages (I hope) and with his words created the epic Lord of the Rings.
x
I [threw a] rock into [the] lake with [the] intent of photographing the ripple effect and with the thought of how when we are kind to others [it] grows out in ripples to others who in turn spread kindness to others.
Photo by John Peters on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Dreamscape
x
I had a dream in which
I had
An argument
With someone close
x
I hate those dreams
Even though I get
To yell
At people; and
Somehow that might be healthy,
Therapeutic
x
But the power balance
Is all wrong
Since agendas are guesswork
At best,
Especially of others
x
Not to mention everything’s
A construct;
I can’t even say
Reality is
Between the extremes
x
And when I wake,
I feel tired
As if I had been arguing
With someone
x
C L Couch
x
x
Criollita
Photo by Soledad Lorieto on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Petition for Another Monday
x
God,
To be prosaic
We need help
Our stories need more chapters
To fill in for burned-up pages
We moved too fast
Precipitous
And greedy
With a friction
That burned up
Our other efforts
x
Slow us down
Give us time
To think
Push us into
The clearings of the forests
Of the world
And by the oceans
In the desert
Surrounded by the mountains
And volcanos
Titans called back in service
Prometheus released
To decide again
About the gift of fire
x
I’m sure the circle
Of the Earth
Is a lesson
We take, we use,
We throw it out
To find and fund
The use of the world
Again
We use
And we renew
Breathe out poison
That the plants take,
Gift us with oxygen again
x
The circle is unbroken
For all the rich who try
And those with
Bent understanding
Of the power
That never was for our us
Without repairing
Turning back
What Earth can use again
And thus to our sustaining
And creating
Over ages
x
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x
x
Quiet Voodoo Eye
Photo by Patrick Hendry on Unsplash
x
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