(I should promise a haiku for tomorrow)
a portrait
1
weird stuff today
not crap
but honest words
inside
made into visioning
a way to read
to see
to hear
witches
and ghosts attend
here is something
for your spells
that comes
quite honestly
against the grain
out of the fire
of unusual thought
and destination
for spirit-care
away from regular thought
even away
from the
machine
2
I think Joyce had
a plot
maybe an outline
that enforced
provided banks
at least
for one side of the stream
that it might roll
and also
tell the story
desired
the story that we say
had no beginning
or no end
save the luck of covers
but then a passage
would be honest
rising above
the paltry things we know
moving away
like riders to the sea
epiphany
on either side
then movement
into daytime
and the quieting
genius
after “Araby”
at night
3
now I have coffee
all the colonial thieving
now fair-trade
it’s bitterness
it stains my teeth
it also helps
with my heartwork
and also
headaches
so I’ve read
so I like
to believe
I washed a dish
and made a noise
am I allowed
am I allowed
(I ask for litany)
something so normal
and a normal
life that was eluded
I eluded
for so long
the good family
mobile family
taken from me
while I was afraid
to move
to move
at all
and so I’ve slid
sloughed says my friend
from place to place
a modicum of gumption
rented
like the truck
(that broke down)
for the moving day
the vegetarian thing
again
but I have memories
of burgers from the grill
roast beef
wreathed with vegetables
from the oven
even corned beef and cabbage
on Saint Patrick’s
which I’ve not seen since
the food
or such a green
a day
hark
it is two bells
not for sailor’s time
but from the phone
maybe reminding me
I have a heart test
in a couple of hours
taking blood
again
my veins
it seems
acting tired
recalcitrant
to give the protein up
and all the cells
of all the colors
(some that change
with oxygen)
not wanting
to disclose
for tests
anymore
4
and while there’s wood for
furniture
and while there’s hope
in love that’s
set upon
the cushions
and the wood
metal beneath
or on the floor
while
passion
knows no bounds
beyond the flesh
and spirit
in between
I’ll play the art
it seems
from which
so far
I haven’t earned a time
in fact
paid for
the time that I have here
and while I have it
but things
are precious
aren’t they
sometimes our deciding
which is which
as in
do you remember
this is our special place
this will be
our song
and so it goes
with lovers
and with friendships
of all kinds
with the bad place
and season
too
too bad to recall
but there it is
is it a balance
I don’t think so
as good will out
and bad
descend to its own
nothingness
so
too
will memory
not deceive
but prioritize
what matters most
upon the porch
in recall
C L Couch
Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash
call me crazy
call me late for dinner
I’ll be writing
over here
reasoning
(a prayer)
O God
Oh
God
(invocating
supplicating)
how are you
in our lives
how do your angels
work in dialogue
between
two sets of wills
your will
so elastic
as to have us
mess it up through
discretion
or what seems perhaps
an accident
or random thing
from us
and yet your will
predominate
your cosmic will
and will for all your spirits
made
and always
from the beginning
ending
and beginning
and everything between
so how shall we have our days
our hours
in ourselves
not pawns
but active players
in some plan of yours
one plan
and all of us
somehow
as parts
yet what we do
must matter
from the inside
to the outside
even the outermost
and is it miracle
or an extraordinary
definition
of happenstance
or some other medium
in which
we move
and have our being
and our choices
matter
they are valued
they turn into
the ultimate reality
and for our judgment
into paradise
how does that work
what stretches
most
within your will
that becomes a point of doctrine
for our lives
a code
for our discretion
well
what we know
is what we know
that our choices
make a difference
in a universe
of shared presence
manifested
so you choose
so I choose
so we chose
not in a vacuum
but some substance
our of
everything that’s real
the real
that is material
divine
individual
and overarching
if not overlording
oh
Lord
our Lord
how majestic is
your name in all the Earth
maybe an odd affirmation
(time to time)
when you
have no name
being I am
we have names
we have bodies
we have spirits
we have choices
and all of it
has value
part of your way
that goes in every
direction
where solidity
and spirituality
have room
for a plan
we don’t know part of
but in whom we are
the stake
we decide
we could always
learn the rules
(they are in many sources
universally)
then go so far as
to obey
c l couch
Psalm 8:9
photo by Árpád Czapp on Unsplash
a little chappy-book of poems
Anyday Fog
Fog
Fog today
A Dickensian lesson
(get started
on Bleak House)
To know
That like the existence
And the movement of the fog
There is connection
Between all of us
Regardless of economy
Or privilege
Or barriers
Presumed
That as far as the single race goes on
Do not stand
Aloof
We are connected
That is the way of things
Do not forget
But relish in it
The reality
And all the possibilities
Together
Or stay apart
Behind our barriers
So-called
To let the fog move
Inimically
Exuding fear and guilt
As we forbid ourselves from
Seeing
(without eyes)
And acknowledging each other
The fog connection
Irony
For there it is
Well
Then let
The better lesson of
The real thing
To a greater thing
Take over
All our humanhood
That should lower unnecessary things
In the way
Then let in
The light
(more than light)
Too Easy
Blindness
Blindness chosen
Not the sense
But the lifestyle
Even
A cause
That in the dark
We shall strike
And have our way
Forgetting
(among other things)
The anthologized
“Dover Beach” that
First-year students
Are foisted
To read
With the “ignorant armies”
In the night
That clash
Who wins
Who loses
No one knows
Except that blows are struck
And there is wounding
And humanity destroyed
By degree
Those who are blind
For real
Know the sacrifice
And the ridiculousness
In selecting darkness as
The quality
For sight
And shall we choose
To be ignorant of each other
Shall we fight
From distances too great
To know much beyond
The switch
Or the button
We could draw near each other
Rather
Withholding our destroying
Part
To leave the great part
Of curiosity
And even peace
Let go
Learn who is my neighbor
On the planet
How might the Earth do better
If we re-trained ourselves
For nature
The greater challenge
To
Like military
Pull back the extremes
To repair
Then prepare
For what’s next
To know
Who is next door
Not to pry
Or lord
Or anything overlording
Or pervasive
To learn each other
As we are
Even the agendas
Learning how to speak
To listen more
And to understand
(lessons in language
might be
the first thing)
Allowing curiosity
To be positive regard
Respect
The better agenda
Knowing which virtues to use
To influence
And which to use to
Be changed by
As we grow
In and with
Those we have relegated to
The other
As an objective distinction
(no such thing)
To render targets
Rather
Than people
Simply put
Do not destroy the world
That’s rather stupid
But put down the guns
(the buttons and the switches)
Find food
And drink
And other fixing things
With which
To approach
Nourish
And give the world
What is the real
Fighting chance
Family Game Night
(we can do it)
No one wins
No one loses
Leave that to
Real games
And remember to embrace
Congratulate
Game-winners
While in the world
We do better
With nothing like a game
At stake
But how we live
Together
Make enough
The base for everyone
Then all we reach for
After that
In other words
Feed everyone
Because
We can do it
(Rosie
says
we can)
Provide everyone
With something safe
To drink
Shelter and the opportunity
For education
Of ourselves
And the world
The unpeated past
The glories in the present
(let science say
amen)
Maybe
Remembering
The God who made
Everything
Is waiting
Withholding Armageddon
‘Til there’s faith
In the outcome
For those who choose
To care
And believe
In the world
And the living
Selves
And neighbors
It’s simply
Really
Embrace good
Eschew evil
Learning the two
More how to build
Rather than
Destroy
It’s easy
Each can prosper
After all are well
In fact
Prosperity
Will grow
While all are fed
And drinked
Have shelter
And the means
For education
Will the problems end
No way
But we’ll have a go
With advancements and
With possibilities
Which is
The world growing
Which is how it was
And how
It should be
By us
Eden
With the walls let down
The best Eden we can make
Yes
For billions
Living well
And each other
Has a chance
To go from there
To growth
To gold
Whatever might seem good
Without extremes
Of anarchy or monarchy
Rule one by one
And by assembly
Which is how
The world’s growing
(at its best)
Anyway
Grow on
Absent Lion
(not that there’s climate change)
Well
Winter’s MidAtlantic
Ended
Seventy
In western parts
So where’s
The lion
Seems not
To have arrived
There’s always
Aslan
For always good
A sign
Of faithfulness
And power
In faithfulness
There are other lions
Some as
Metaphors
Others in fact
Don’t go
To meet upfront
The real ones
For their strength
Is in
Predation
It’s the qualities
And made-up stuff
That make
The lion
Useful
(leave the real ones
out there)
As we can make
The lamb
Render its own qualities
For our own good
And at least
In these parts
Earlier
In March
What’s Blue Is Blue
Maybe this is all
I can do
For now
Write against the blue
Until
The retinas
And other parts can’t take it
Then leave
The machine alone
And even
Wonder
How we do this
All
The time
Go see
The eye doctor
Maybe she
Will know
What is healthy
What is useful
What is
Disciplined
For health and
Productivity
To ease the headaches
And the
Stress
Maybe from blues
Though maybe
I need to play the blues
C L Couch
Photo by Vestfoldmuseene on Unsplash
2 poems kind of about brokenness (sorry)
When the Circle’s Not Unbroken
The Lord
Invites us
To the circle
Or the square
Or something oblong
Maybe
Rhomboid
To something
Maybe broken
For design
Or due to
Some experience
That seems
To break up everything
Fear
And anger
Breaking out
Without
The lines
To keep it in
To keep what might be loved
Therein
Though love remains
In the fragments
The Lord
Cares for us in these
And if the situation
Backs in
From extreme
The parts
Maybe come together
In a new shape
If partial
While we gesture
Talk
And work on fixing
For a while
Call it prayer
Call it Bible study
Call it therapy
Or medication
Every means
That helps
In measured
Dosage
And discretion
‘Til something like
Our circle
Even as
Something else
Shall come together
Maybe with a new
Amen
March on Two Left Feet
(or right)
The fifth already
Seems like
March is
The right name
The lion hasn’t really
Come
Though are there hints
Of lambs
Is a fair question
It’s in-between
A kind of academic
Purgatory
While the sky
And Earth
Decide
To fix the things
From winter
Into spring
We hope
The flowers undeceived
The planting happen
In its own
Good timing
That might have to change
Or not
Should good-guessing be required
By planters
Of all kinds
Who typically
Are breathing through
Northeastern cold
While waiting
For green seasons
To begin
C L Couch
Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash
Manic Monday
(and don’t panic)
God sang
The song into creation
The lion did as much
And our holy words
In works
Imply
We are created
We are that song
Or its interpretation
In darkness
And in light
And the bestowal
Of a garden
With the first object lesson
For the teachers
That the garden
Stands
For something we
No longer have
While we must work
In labor
And in labor
For
What we got
Each era is a lesson
We could say
And maybe they progress
The human ages
Which is why
We say
They’re ages
(we get older)
We grow
Some
We adapt
Physically
Some
Though not as much
As one might think
For as long as we’ve
Been here
And this might not be
So much by us
As by
The touch of God
God knowing
We’ll need adaptive parts
As we go on
(grow on)
What do I know
It’s Monday
And I’m feeling existential
With the blues on electric pages
Making less sense
To me
(than could it be
our music style)
Than paper
With its white
And off-white
Receiving of
Our pen strokes
Painting
With black ink
C L Couch
[note to me and now to us
so what’s this poem about?—it’s about thinking and writing, yes, really about both]
I am having trouble with the blue lights on computers. Or the part of the lights that are blue. Or maybe feeling blue. I think it’s both.
The result is that I’m even more recalcitrant in using this thing. This vital thing. I’ve had to use it for a while then rest my eyes. Rest my eyes upon the rest of the world.
So if I’m worse about responding than is typical (and typically it can be pretty bad), then I’m sorry. But as the emperor said quite uselessly, there it is.
--Christopher
Photo by Marija Zaric on Unsplash
Nous existons. Vraiment.
Lift
(the congregation sings)
Humble sign
Of
Ordinary execution
Ancient
Egyptian
Means
And then Roman
One by one by one
And two
We make this cross
Depict it
Empty
Or with Jesus on it
C L Couch
Photo by Marek Piwnicki on Unsplash
In Ev’ry Condition
Something spiritual
That
God is love
And that
This is
The hardest thing to know
The strongest
And most difficult
To know
And to apply
C L Couch
Photo by Scott Blake on Unsplash
Who Wins, What Is the Prize
The devil never sleeps
And I’m not sure
That’s so
Do angels sleep
Do persons in the Trinity
Maybe
Take turns
Or shifts of angels
And of demons
Unless the boss of all
Infernos
Demands no rest
For its agents
Or agencies
That must be busy
In corruptions
And
Winning souls for hell
Which is
Backward evangelism
Though real enough
In goading
Forces for
An Armageddon
C L Couch
Photo by National Library of Scotland on Unsplash
Texas fires
I cannot say enough
about
the fires in Texas
and how those
who can
should fight them
toward containment
and cessation
and then
the multifarious care
of victims
and how
those of us who can
as in fight fires
go there
and those of us who can’t
remain behind
to offer aid
and give it from
where we
might be
it’s fire
folks
and politics aside
it is a horror
a series of horrors
from what burns
and who’s caught
in the way
can't say enough
because it's time to act
c l couch
photo by Michael Held on Unsplash
clcouch123 
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