Before
In the still of day
When there is light but
Otherwise no other
Thing intrudes
Before I turn on the tube
(Yes, tube)
Or warm up the computer
Before I am reminded
What there is to do
I cease all preparations
To brake and break
(Both kinds)
With all
Rather to wonder
What might occur today,
Totally unexpected
Certainly not planned
A surprise
Delightful or disturbing
I won’t know
But I know what I’d
Choose for something
Or someone, new or
Anew, to come into
My world
International Women’s Day
Really, it’s more than us
We’re everywhere, as you know
We have to be
There is no more without us
Shouldn’t that own for us
Respect
And, if nature is not enough,
Then
Consider what we give
Professionally
We gave the X-ray
We gave a right sense of
Nationalism (think on all
The women kings remembered,
Not the kings, like men’s, we
All strive to forget)
We gave you victory in France
Revolutionary pride in the USA
Freedom-speaking around
The world—which goes on
Still: note the young woman
Receiving the Nobel
We are more than
Parenthetical—we are
Partners and princes,
Inventors and advocates
In advocacy, we support so
Much more than ourselves
We write, we preach, we
Make—we take our part with God
In co-creation
Our capacities are great
They’re great for
Pain—for ages until now
What happens next? That
Is the consequential question
To which responding
Requires all of us, unless
You wish a final rebellion
That might take out all
But probably will simply
Leave only us
And who wants that
On and in this day
C L Couch
Not a Trick
Easter is a surprise, the
Rabbit out of the hat, one
Might wryly think
From where and when
Comes the trick-tradition
From Easter and the tomb,
I think, and Spring, generally,
In the land and from the
Time and place in which
Top Hats were popular
Something living retrieved
Out of nothing—something
Drawn out from the void
The rabbit is fecund (rabbits
Always are, aren’t they?),
The hat circular for the cycle
Of mortality, moving in
An immortal way
Hoping that, in coming ‘round,
One will pass the door to
Eternity, maybe to pause
There
Our magic with the rabbit
Is illusion—dedicated that
Way—but here’s what is
Real: the pure, created one
Has escaped the rounded
Maw of death, leaving (this
Time real) magic words working
As miracle
What is lifted now is living
Truth to behold
No applause needed or any
Desired, for this is grace
The cost of admission offered
Always, for all, a price to us
That’s free
From Earth Above
(homage to the title of
a book of wondrous
planetary imagery)
Ridges of Amazonian tress
Is there earth beneath? one
Might rightly wonder
It is an orange time of day,
And the beauty, like Diana,
Looks nowhere to be
Inviting seduction
For all technology, the
Machete is the better
Instrument for maybe
Finding one’s way through,
Searching for a lost city
This is the Science Channel,
And I am grateful to see,
To hear the photographic
Cinematic semblance of
The truth of this:
This place, hidden living
Communities, and quest
For those who can go
There (I have limitations),
I wish safety and exploring
With all respect
Which is deserved at far
Corners of the treasured
Earth
This is the World
The world’s too big, you know;
Even when we stand, too often
Upon others, to shake fists of
Presupposing power, we won’t
Earn a living dot to be perceived
From far away—even, say, from
Worlds known and yet unknown
Is height-to-planet ratio somehow
Universal? On smaller planes or
Habitably larger, are we there
Proportioned in some way so
That our diminishment remains?
And must that make sense to
Have not one of us be tall enough
To overwhelm the rest—and is
This maddening thought or comfort?
Tell the ruler of Babel or the director
Of Auschwitz: they built insanely
High and wide, never valuing
The true size of Earth beyond
Provision of a circular base on
Which to keep the demons’ scale
Tray that they desired to keep
Unbalanced toward their part,
Never mind that justice rode upon
The other side, preparing to upend;
At the last, we are one by one, no
Monument to detect from space
Which has to be enough—we can
Build each other up, thus making
Better, reaching obelisks to scrape
A spiritual sky upon the Earth
To All Nebuchadnezzars
(in the present age in exigency
anywhere, this is the prophecy
of speaking truth to power)
Said Daniel to the king:
You are brittle with power
While I have talent, speak
With zeal, and touch power
That’s true because I know
It’s not my own
You will cast me out and
Throw me down
I will survive the lions, while
You, above, will soon suffer
Suppurating disease
The carrion of falsehood
On which you feed will have
Its way with you, eating
Infected meat of poisoned
Blood that comes from
Your own veins
Why not send me, if you
Cannot bear my presence,
To a new place where I
Might love the people you
Have cursed whom I can
Help, and you remain
Within your rich and sullen
Chamber, adorned in
Shadowed fate
Nothing changes, king; for
I will arise from the pit in
Certainty, while you will
Never recognize how you
Dwell in your own deep
Place without protection
From the beasts
Psalm 31
a song, a request
Lord, your love rises above
All; let me, with your choosing,
Rise with you
Lift me without pain that
I might see the borderless
World below, source of your
Love in that we were made
Out of your will
Better than the dawn
Is waking to new life with
All things seeming new—so let
Me rise with you
Better than all other pleasures
And pursuits, please let
Me rise with you
Midst
There is no storm just now;
Yet I am between two poles
And, like the compass magnet,
Cannot find a true direction
In the middle and cut off, I
Drift alone—the sun is bright
Though I feel no thirst, no
Longer any hunger, either
I am alone—I don’t know
What happened to the crew—
No storm now and yet I feel
I am only between one
Tempest and another, that
One will come to overturn my
My unsteady craft; so how
Does the Latino saying go?
Your sea is so great, and my
Boat is so small—for the time,
And but for swelling waves,
There is no current bearing
Me away: yet I believe I am
In the midst of all, awaiting
What happens, what catches—
Compelling, never planned
Annie, How Do Lizards Leap?
(the answer might be, Very well)
Extra day
One day in four
We leap
With twelve lords
In British fancy-
Fashion
Well, I guess we
All own the song
By now
(Domains
Notwithstanding)
So leap—that’s
Falling with intention
Yet toward an
Unknown landing
Don’t expect
To touch down
(This is living,
After all)
On cushions
C L Couch (Coussin)
clcouch123 
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