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A Quiet Place

(x = space)

x

x

A Quiet Place

(a sequel)

x

A song

A horror movie

A hyped-up culture

Maybe doesn’t want one

But I do

x

Something calm

With windows large enough

To witness nature

As it passes

With sun or wind

Or snow or rain,

Things better watched

And heard

From inside

With ceilings high enough

So I could imagine a cathedral

Rather than

A cave

(it’s all right—I am imaginative)

A place to live with my own noise

That is modified respectfully

With regard to

Neighbors whom

I might get to know

x

C L Couch

x

x

New Forest Lane

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

New Forest National Park, United Kingdom

[cathedral]

x

1

Apology in Irony

(x = space)

x

x

Apology in Irony

x

I can’t think of anything to say

That doesn’t sound

Mansplaining

Rightly named

About my take

On ideas or events

x

Maybe I should just shut up,

Take instead the day

Until there’s something decent

Open-ended

Offering

Half-engagement should

We wish

To take it further

x

I’ll talk with you

Tomorrow then,

Not tomorrow and tomorrow

But tomorrow

x

C L Couch

x

x

Old Iron

Photo by Malik Skydsgaard on Unsplash

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2

circling

(x = space)

x

x

circling

x

today good people

met

they talked

and prayed

maybe did the praying

first

it’s Sunday

but it could be on a Friday

or a Wednesday

or a Tuesday

you know, any day

I’m sure

in any hour

x

they pray for other people

for the Earth

for peace

for wisdom

for discretion

when it truly is

the better part of valor

x

they won’t quit,

these folk

they’ll meet again

talk and pray

or maybe pray first

x

c l couch

x

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photo by Mel Poole on Unsplash

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0

The Lathe of Earth

(x = space)

x

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The Lathe of Earth

x

We will get used

To being back,

Back from the edge

Of the disease

And into something new,

A new shape to life

Because there is no back

To normal, though

Touchstones of our lives

Might be used again

x

No back to the basics

Only forward to the basics

Forward to new normal,

As is said already

x

We’ll closet all our plague

Paraphernalia,

The way the Swiss

Keep their arms in closets

After military service

Though I think they prefer

Chocolate and negotiation

And so should we

Until and when

The next, dire thing

Should happen

x

coda

x

We’ll bury our dead

As after war

We could deal kindly

With each other,

Though the tone set

In the nation

Went against that

And we have found

That we have

Way too many guns

And, unlike the Swiss,

Don’t know how to use them

x

C L Couch

x

x

The Lathe of Heaven is a novel by Ursula K. Le Guin.

x

Photo by Rosie Steggles on Unsplash

Death Valley National Park, United States

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0

Speak for a Nation

(x = space)

x

x

Speak for a Nation

x

Receiving a message from the Lord

was rare in those days; revelatory

visions were infrequent.

(1 Samuel 3:1b)

x

Prophets have jobs

Usually doing something else

Until the words are called for,

Until the wind

Blows through

Every atom

We think of them as crazy,

But they’re not

There is relentless urgency

Is all

Repent, while you’re alive

Don’t wait for judgment

And the fire

Leaders, most of all

You are double-cursed

If you do it wrong

Return to the temple

Pray in litany

And all humility

For a change and

For a change,

Recovering the modesty

In service that dressed you

Before fame

x

We think they’re crazy, sometimes

Maybe they are

From time to time

But there is authenticity

And love of service,

Such as those in stadiums

At podiums

Behind the microphones

Must have

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Pavel Brodsky on Unsplash

A slow shutter-speed rendition of a BBQ fire.

Meron Mountain

x

(New English Translation

verse indentations by me)

x

0

A Lost World

(x = space)

x

x

A Lost World

x

I took my .22,

Shot at paper targets

I wasn’t very good

There were

I’m sure

Excuses

x

I could not shoot Bambi

There are those who could

And use the food

At home or to give

To other,

Hungry people

x

A bullet from a distance

What might Cain

Have devised?

With such Indiscretion

And the safety off,

He might have gone

After Seth

x

Then where would we be

For progeny

With only wives surviving, were

They out of range?

x

They might retrieve

The guns

Then learn to shoot for life,

Maybe instructed by

An angel

Out of Eden

x

An imagined state

Doomed,

We’d think

Excepting life to find a way

x

C L Couch

x

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Suspect nabbed in stray bullet slaying of 1-year-old Brooklyn boy sitting in stroller last summer

The accused shooter in last summer’s horrific stray bullet shooting of a 1-year-old boy outside a Brooklyn playground was charged Thursday in the devastating death that shocked a pandemic-stricken city and rattled Mayor de Blasio.

. . .

https://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/nyc-crime/ny-suspect-arrested-stray-bullet-brooklyn-baby-stroller-slay-20210506-nbuzgsa3xzcivdlo7t7jbwzohu-story.html

x

Photo by Omkar Jadhav on Unsplash

Bullet Marks [jallianwala bagh], Gali Number 7, Ramanand Bagh, Katra Ahluwalia, Amritsar, Punjab, India

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The Lost World by Arthur Conan Doyle, then by Michael Crichton

x

1

What You Will

(x = space)

x

x

What You Will

x

It’s Wednesday

A good time to think

On God

There is no holy day

I know of

x

Either way,

God cares

And doesn’t care,

Welcomes us anytime

For prayer and

Conversation

x

I know,

A mystical transaction

But there it is

Sometimes mysticism’s normal

Underhill might agree

(Evelyn or Frodo)

Gerald May

Or Parker Palmer

Mary Oliver

x

But let’s say

Ursula K. Le Guin

Who stirred with genders

In her work

Long before the rage,

Who lived

In writing

And in company

x

C L Couch

x

x

a brief bibliography

x

Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness, No Time to Spare

Gerald May, The Wisdom of Wilderness

Mary Oliver, Upstream or any publication—any gathering—of her poetry

Parker Palmer, Let Your Life Speak

Evelyn Underhill, Practical Mysticism

x

x

Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

Tree in Forest, Autumn Season

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0

The Salton Sea

(x = space)

x

x

The Salton Sea

x

I’d like to go into

The desert

Because I don’t know what

I’m saying,

Which isn’t true:

I lived in California

For a time

Went to the desert there

Saw the stars

At night

One day went to Palomar

Never got to

The Salton Sea,

Not knowing what I would

Have found then—

A miasma of

Mismanagement shown

In rusty signs and

Rotted beams

Or tries at reclamation:

Burying

Dead animals

Nailing together boathouses,

Pubs,

And homes

Maybe re-servicing

The Navy base

Maybe putting back in

All the water

That used to be there,

That kept

The crafted ocean

And habitation

Viable

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Chris Montgomery on Unsplash

Salton Sea, California, USA

x

1

The Fall from Mount Meron

(x = space)

x

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The Fall from Mount Meron

x

I can’t imagine

I don’t want

The press of flesh

And muscles and of

Organs and of

Bones

While a ritual

A practice

An assembly turns into

Another kind

Unkind

Remembrance

x

It’s brutal

Terrible

One could say

Awful

Filled with awe

And we pray for peace

And wonder how

A time to mourn

Was manifest

x

C L Couch

x

x

Israeli watchdog to investigate deadly festival stampede – Los Angeles Times (latimes.com)

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Photo by Yeshaya Barron on Unsplash

Har Meron

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