Search

clcouch123

I talk you talk we'll talk

Open Search

Missing Church

(x = space)

x

x

Missing Church

x

It used to meet

In buildings

Who’d have

Thought

That would be

Novel, given

Centuries

Of scary-high

Structures with

Ornaments that

Trod through

Ages’ worth

Of styles,

Of schools

x

But then,

Before

The buildings

There was nothing

Formal but

The people

Who met in homes

And basements,

That is,

Tombs

x

Cathedrals now

Are cyber

While the

Pandemic surges,

Though we wish

To have our

Lofts again and pews

And pulpits

Or, for

Some, a room

Big enough

For all of us

x

I don’t know

If there’s teaching

Here about

Where we

Meet—that it

Doesn’t matter,

Maybe

x

Two or three

The standard,

Maybe

Really

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Xavier Coiffic on Unsplash

St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City, Vatican

x

0

Lathes and Crucibles

(x = space)

x

x

Lathes and Crucibles

x

What shall we say to God

Between sabbath times

Or other times of prayer

Or times when none of us

Are praying?

x

Shall we say

We’re rather tired, rather

Busy, rather occupied with

Real things—money and

Mortgages and relationships

(and these are real)?

x

When God asks us, in

Turn, what have you for me?

Knowing he does not mean

Money or mortgages

Or relationships (not their

numbers, certainly),

What shall we say?

x

But we were busy

But we meant to,

Well, you know

You know, you know the

World—so why bother us?

x

Can we not put a peg

In salvation?  Can we not

Reserve a space for the

Apocalypse?  A room when

We hear you have

So many rooms?

x

This might tear grace apart

Hope might cry

Salvation might be small,

Smaller in number

Than was planned

The mansion empty

With all our watches

At the door,

Just outside

x

Why do we believe in God?

I asked my mother

Because people are afraid

Of going to hell,

She said

And there’s wisdom there,

Pragmatic

Though she had better faith,

I know

x

Faith is not for empty wings

But for a heart and mind

And soul

To fly

The rituals won’t answer

When the angels (solid beings

rife with wings)

As on behalf of God

To bar the way with

Flaming swords

And molten tears, weeping

For God’s way

x

The narrow way

That wasn’t meant to be

But for our refusal

Widened the other

Set fenceposts of denial,

Left out arrows

Of deception,

Tour guides with toothy

Grins

x

Metanoia

Turning as in

Repentance

Paint the other way

(a pun in English)

We have time

For the sake of miracles

And grace,

There might be seconds

For the future

What you are going to do,

Do it now

x

C L Couch

x

x

(goodness, this is grim—but so is the news today)

x

By H005 – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8384955

x

1

Machine Languages

(x = space)

x

x

Machine Languages

x

Too much heat

A killing metaphor

But for now

I have the benefit of machines

The kind that cool,

The kind that distract

I’m lucky

Don’t I know it

x

In several months

I’ll need machines

The other way

And won’t I know it

To warm my food

To warm the rest of me

Against a northern

Winter

x

I have to thank machines

That bide my time

That give me time

To heal

To forget

To move through seasons

In a constant state

Like quicksilver

x

Like the cardinal

That, up here,

Flies through seasons

x

C L Couch

x

x

Cardinal diving down from tree.

Photo by gerhard crous on Unsplash

x

1

Peace Talk

(x = space)

x

x

Peace Talk

x

What does God demand?

We say humility

In walking

That sounds good

We could let go our weapons

And the meanness

On our faces

And go our way

Not as if

Everyone’s our friend

But that the world

And the world’s God

Anticipates

Agendas,

x

Don’t make a face

That gets you beat

Or killed

And with a face

That says that, should we meet,

It might go all right

x

The thing is

And I guess you know

This is a rule

First for the strong

x

C L Couch

x

Micah 6:8

x

x

Photo by Timothy Barlin on Unsplash

(nice face)

x

2

Love Song of the Mendicant

(x = space)

x

x

Love Song of the Mendicant

x

I sit by the side

Begging bread for my bowl

I drink thin liquid,

Hoping to sustain me

Is it Egypt

Of long ago,

A curb in Cairo

Or in Rome

Or New York City?

x

We dream,

And in our dreams

We look for many things

Gold, perhaps—

More so for love, I think

The love of God

Of one another

Of those we know

And those we knew

Who have been away

For a long while,

Now

x

Now

We wake

And everything begins again

We are cast outside

By the world’s demand

To beg for bread

And something cool

To drink

And that, with enough,

We can share with

Others

In our group,

With our family

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Viviane Okubo on Unsplash

Palhano, Brazil

x

0

After I Believe

(x = space)

x

x

After I Believe

x

I don’t know how

     to live for you

I wish I did

I know

     the Spirit is supposed

To guide me,

Though what are

     the steps to take

And practices

     to follow

I don’t know or am

     out of practice

     (hah)

Or never knew and need

Companions

     also in the flesh

To help me

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo taken from The Nue Co. marketing campaign.

Photo by Finn on Unsplash

x

1

seven at a blow

(x = space)

x

x

seven at a blow

x

99,000

new cases here

on Friday

don’t know how it is

where you are

here we’re still denying

we want to go to bars

though barkeeps

are smart

and want to know

how safe

each patron is

x

we want it to be over

so much so

some say

it never happened

it’s not happening

but for the family

the friends

we’ll never see again

this side,

what are we to say

x

that

the multi-million deaths

from the same thing

was not

is not

it isn’t happening?

what kind of remembrance

x

it’s nice

that we don’t want

to hear about it

and it’s cruel

x

we could apologize

the COVID series doesn’t care

numbers on the news

numbers in my family

and yours

x

I don’t know

where it started

I heard a bat

and I like bats

for all they consume that

I’d rather not have

around

in numbers

x

China?

sure

made up maybe

in a lab,

who’s to know?

I don’t know

I’ll care later

x

for now,

I want you to be safe

I want us all

to move on to health

then I’ll gladly buy

the next round

x

oh, there is a story

about numbers

seven at a blow

to keep us

frosty

to keep us

skeptical

x

and, hey,

I want you to be well

x

c l couch

x

x

Photo by Martin Sanchez on Unsplash

Published on March 22, 2020

x

2

Chaotica

(x = space)

x

x

Chaotica

x

Lord,

It’s a good day

For normal praying

x

In churches everywhere

There will be choruses

That say it right

x

But my prayer

Is cacophony,

Nothing regular

Or regularly rhythmed out

x

I hope you will forgive that,

All the off-pitch, off-key

Murmuring,

Uneven humming through

The perfect angel-layering

Of formal prayers

x

But I need you;

I need your company

x

You could simply sit close by,

And maybe we’d say nothing

To each other

And somehow know

Eternity is hearing

Everything as it should

x

Everything that’s needed

To respond just right

To an uneven,

Lopsided,

Person praying badly

x

Out of place

In whatever place

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash

x

2

Why Sometimes There’s a ? Mark

(x = space)

x

x

Why Sometimes There’s a ? Mark

x

The ending of a movie

Doesn’t say

“The End” so

Much, which

Might be just as well

x

Stories go on:

An event has an ending

However it might

Dwindle

Toward an emptiness of

Time and company

While the next thing is in

Motion

x

Motion, motion—

Investment of potential,

Expenditure

Of energy,

Profit of contribution toward the

Turning of the Earth

And shall we say it,

Joy

x

Yes, using

The “eternal delight”

Of Blake

Amid the envying of

All unmoving things that want

To be introduced

Into the

Calling rushing of the universe

And so it seems

Never the end

x

C L Couch

x

x

On Set

Photo by Avel Chuklanov on Unsplash

Portland, United States

x

2

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑