ides of December
(3 poems)
north time
(5:42 a.m.)
still so dark
still
so dark
remembering that it’s blue
is
all
practicing memory of daytime as
it’s
taken away
creeps back with the solstice
yet
we believe it is brief time
with
victory enough
in
enduring days
again
again like these
to the north
to
the far south
prayer while frankly things are bad
(though regardless could be daily)
God
please
forgive me
help me
in
your timing
I know
though endurance with some endings
along the way
would
really serve
you know
and
of course
you do
you love
you know
you help
and if invisible while suffering
is real
and so there seems a differences
help me in this
to undeceive my senses
to
that the paradox of evidence unseen
and even
life by death
is
understood
and with embraces
here
nonetheless looking elsewhere
is it
forward or more directions
fully everywhere
at last
the past few days at Brown and in Sydney
(and the other places)
to have lost someone through murder
to have lost a child
a lover
or a friend
or to know there is an absence
a gap in what we knew
with health
was
a totality of presence
school of learners
place where faithful gather
any place that should
be easy to walk
through
where normal then became
punishing
insane
so much innocence
and
cowardice
not perfection in the victims
maybe worse for being any
one of
us
walking
breathing
now the smallest valley
sliced
in smooth land
where we had been walking even
if
absently yet
side by side
now only gone
and
in way that was horror and
now
how must we remaining
get on
because we must
we’re called
to
and we must call ourselves
and yet
to face all there is to face
to look within
then
at the world
in
what must be a teary way and then
once scoured
from
the empty place
c l couch
At about 4:20 p.m. on a cold Rhode Island Saturday, a message from Brown University flashed up on cellphones all over campus — everyone should run or take cover from an active shooter.
Hours later, horror erupted again, on the other side of the globe, as two gunmen sprayed bullets into a Hanukkah celebration on iconic Bondi Beach in Sydney.
At Brown, two students were killed and nine others were injured. At least 15 people died at Bondi Beach, and more than three dozen remain in the hospital.
. . .
(CNN)
photo by Nikola Johnny Mirkovic on Unsplash
imagining heatwave accommodation
(3 poems)
having a green day
when I think on Robert Louis Stevenson
his verses for children
I imagine a pastel illustration
pale colors of
children at play
there is a swing
which might mean there a book
I’m thinking of
with the picture at
the front
or with
the title
a green-bound book
it seems
though what other color
to represent the liveliness
of play
a green day
washing the gloom away for
children with
a swing to play on
and
with care
summer accommodation
and shall we say
let’s have
a day
get out there
if
shaded from the sun
so that only the light of life gets
through
an appreciate of the colors
paled
beholding all the surfaces
the textures
sights and sounds
things to smell and taste
leaving
what
why
to hear in the surfaces and textures
too
and course through the hours
with a purpose
do our jobs
then toward earned play
(if
a child then with
the understanding that it is
the child’s
job)
to have some trusted company
trustworthy enough
for jobs
and play
a fullness in
the day
accrued regardless of intention
but
but the mind and body worked
into completion
then
the fullness of the night
with rest
while third-shifters
must go
the other way
to
have the filling hours
should we get there
I recall
a picture of a fountain
at La Alhambra
adding imagination
with
the wish to be there
if a moment
to let the spray strike me
the lavishness of
water
for play
in a dry land
how many tour
while I can only hope each time’s
a
treasure
c l couch
photo by Sebastian Yepes on Unsplash
you, the season, and the Bible (3 poems)
the Tuesday verse
it’s Tuesday
how
are you
well
I hope
and
if not on your way toward
becoming well
and more
I don’t know what kind
of day you’ll have
today
maybe one of actual prosperity
or
to refine only
hope for
more
maybe there will be peace
this day
though there might be conflict
just
as well
the world as it is
we know
here it happens to be
raining and it’s
cooler
it might be raining where you are
as well
as
it falls near
everyone
even in the desert now
and
then
a happy Tuesday to you
and we try to raise our thoughts
toward
a Wednesday with
an even
better view
maybe weather
notwithstanding
or
altering
the longest day
the solstice is approaching
Midsummer
or
Saint John’s
and then the days grow shorter
though it’s
summer
and we think if in irony of longer
days
relish
in fact
the light of day that lingers as a cue
for picnics and vacations
or
simply to take in
because of the gradients of
blue
and then
the stars appear to dance
to twinkle through the atmosphere
at least
in the summer hours we have
which
will grow longer for them
maybe in the dark of only this time
of year
we’ll also think of kick-the-can and
capture-the-
flag
time and talent
Jesus wept
the reputed shortest verse
though
it’s a matter of numbering and syntax
of translators
and
then getting by the editors in
the inspired process
and maybe new translations
paraphrases
challenge other parts for that epithet
say
to write in Genesis
God made
or maybe to try
only
God
c l couch
photo by Wenying Yuan on Unsplash
What Shall Break Through
1
Unreadiness
Winter quiet
Though it’s weeks
Away
The sky is thinking on it
And the ground becomes more laden
Storing what it needs to store
Welcoming the flora
Fauna
That shall be sleeping there
It looks like snow
And if I were outside
I might say it smells like snow as well
Breathes
The new season
However apprehensively
About extremities
Of ice in breath
And snow
That the insides of our bodies
Will not be ready for
If ever
Like the extremes of summer
I suppose
2
Birth of a Mystic
Still
And still
Like the monk
The hermit
I await
And
Yes
These could be women
And each was
The desert mothers
Julian and cat
(female or male cat
I do not know
or
if there were ever
any kittens)
Hildegard
Teresa
Evelyn for the moderns
And who waits inside the cave
For insight now
Who bears the vision
We shall hear about
That
Shall be approved
A new generation
One of those young persons
Who dreamed dreams
And set them down
Enough
For publication
Or simply hearing here and there
Now and then
Until
The books
With illustrations
Shall appear
And we shall know we have something
Set
And new
3
Dream Dreams
And shall the winter bring them on
The ordinary
And the visionary
Angels adept upon the scene
To work
With mortals
To let grace behind the curtain
Become miracle
Upon the stage
Though none of it is acting
Though it might be staged like
Jacob
Or like Bethlehem
Or the leaping suns
At Fatima
Or like the truce of 1914
That was like
That was
Grace
And miracle as well
Human gifts
No doubt angel-approved
When all could breathe
A moment
Inside heaven
While on the field
The wired
Trenched
And blooded field
There could be such a peace
For a few hours
Even gifts and photographs
To mark
The Christmas season
And now
I am afield
Dealing in ordinary mystics
But they’re there
They’re here
Thank goodness
And with
The names
And books
And famous patroned pets
Shall breathe in each of us beholding
C L Couch
Photo by Karsten Winegeart on Unsplash
me, you, God (3 poems)
Smart Scan
Something happened
If only for
A little while
Some sleep helped
And lying in
A while
And now some coffee
Having checked the phone
Set up the machine
Which
Didn’t take so long this time
And I am glad
Thinking about moving a lamp
In a Prufrockian
Way
And there is peace
I think for emptiness
The good kind being alone
In the building
Maybe
Or at least
Most of them are gone
And I am alone
With my vibes
That for some reason
Don’t feel so bad
So pressed
Just now
There is pleasure in the isolation
Not
To want it all the time
But I think on passages from
Call of the Wild
And
Martian Chronicles
Moments
Well
Passages of aloneness
That are hard on
Them
Perhaps
From time to time
And me as well
And yet
The stories move forward
With freedom from the outside
Enhancing
Liberty
Inside
To think on everything
Or at least enough
For the passage that
Is this day
Still Time
And that’s me
How is it with you
I just lay and thought a while
An hour
In
This morning
When by the way
I saw the branches dripping
Recent rain
With golden hangers-on
Of fall
Maybe doing that might
Be good for you
The time to lie
(to lay)
That is
And not to drop off branches
(though who knows
since there is
a way
with trees)
I mean
I’m not a guru
(with
apologies to gurus)
As much as I’d like to be your friend
In this
Or at least
An ally
Allies
Negotiate
And strategize campaigns
Sometimes
And maybe such
Would work for
You
And us
Let me encourage you
To take time to
Take time
‘Cause spring will turn to fall
In just no time at all
Which is a passage that
I think on often
(partly
‘cause the memory
is tuneful)
From a show
And the voice
I’ve heard is
That
Of Granny Clampett
Which also appeals to me
Somehow
Anyway
Remembrances aside
Or frankly
To focus better on them
And the rest that needs recall
Before deciding
Maybe we will
Find that
Time
Call it a candle hour
(with a wick
or
screw in the flame)
That is
Some time for stillness
And to think in
Stillness
A Genesis and Then Another
And then there’s God
Who made all things
And keeps
Creating
Who is investing in the largest
And the smallest
The Grand Canyon
A grasshopper
The features and
The people
Of
The West Bank
God’s spirit is in you and me
Or me because
I ask
Or you
In the same way
Though should we not invite
We have our spirits
At the least
Which is extraordinary
In presence
And in value
Each one lost
May go to God
A greater
Closeness
And a new home
Perhaps
(I’m uncertain of
theology)
The loss might be as we expect
Peaceful
Even dull
Or it might crash into life
(and
life no more)
By flood
Or war
Loss and gain
And every feather
Every hair
(or loss of hair)
Is tracked
By God
As if angels followed every
Created thing
With ledger
And the feathered thing called hope
With which to quill
Numbers
And notations
Such wonders in the world
Too many wonders
Really
For each one
To take them all
But size
And the notated numbers
Give allowance
For each one
On Earth
To have so much
Though
There are thieves
With sometimes heroes
To thwart
The thieves
And thievery
To
Bring into repentant
Light
And life
So what might God
With all our trials
Yet
Expect of us
Well
There’s Amos
About justice
And rolling waters
And also walking humbly
By those waters
(which is
Micah
more or less)
As if they were also
Still enough
While
Being hale
For companionship
Even
Some kind of feast
Beside
And so there’s God
And God with us
Our own
Immanuel
And also for the world
Come Christmas and
You know
364
(365 when leaping)
God makes
God gives
We also provide
Gifting
Maintaining
For each other
Though we are not first cause
But we’re enough
There is great utility
In being
Giving
Sharing
Out of the bounty
Or the paucity
Of God sending
As well
As famously
Each one of us
An Immanuel
(small i)
Each one
C L Couch
But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!
Amos 5:24
[God] has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.
Micah 6:8
Oh, it's time to start livin'
Time to take a little from this world we're given
Time to take time, cause spring will turn to fall
In just no time at all.
“No Time at All”
Pippin
sung by Irene Ryan in the first Broadway cast
(Ecclesiastes 3, Psalm 23, Jack London, Ray Bradbury)
a few poems for Sunday that for some—well, many—is a longer day not by the count of hours (minus seconds adding up toward Leap Year Day) but the clock that reckons with the strings of heart and mind and even metal, also pendula inside
A Monk Still in the Suburbs
Were there bells
I would not know when
They first struck
An hour
So ignorant am I of
The schedule of
A Book of Hours
Matins
Vespers
The in-betweens
And all-arounds
I have books
I can consult
But I don’t have the instinct
Bred by a lifetime
Even a part
Of a lifetime of devotion
I pray
But it’s my words
I read the Bible
When it suits
When I’m needing to find something
Or researching generally
Out of admittedly
A long life of following
And interest
But I can’t leave my cot
Lift up an over-
Robe (a cowl?) to don it
Over me
Place the hood on the right side
Of my head
So I may see
Then scoot myself in
Silence once again
Toward the chapel where we assemble
(peers and I) for
The first readings
The first rhythms of the day
Much worse
Were I a hermit
With accountability
Beyond a bedside clock
Perhaps
Next to which
A psalter gathers dust
But not the novels
Let’s face it
An anchorite I’m not
Nor a peer
For any monastery
I am brother me
At best
And sister me
As well
And if I have a robe
It’s for the shower
Or I might find for fun
Something Jedi=like
You know
For Hallowe’en
But I believe
And I reflect
I study and I read
(with eyes I have)
And pray nearly
All day long
In dialogue
Simply not according to
The holy schedule
Time Amok
And have we
(have I
yes
though sometimes
I tire of I
maybe you understand)
Thought so much
Of the world
Today
A water main has broken
In the town
And we (locally)
Must worry over
Boiling advisories as well as
Promises
Of timetables
And yet in Gaza
A place was hit
A school turned to a shelter
And some sixty people
Inside
Perished
And there’s a push at the border
Of Ukraine and Russia
With no doubt
A pushing back
While Iran wants to attack
Israel
Over the death of one
Of its own
While Israel
Closes in on itself
While keeping allies somewhere
Too
And in how many parts
Of the planet
‘Sides our own
Is there great flooding
With the consequences
And quake
And fire
Enough inside our cycles
Should we add them up
We could compose
New lists
Of plagues
For letting people go
Which is to say
It’s quite a world we live in
A planet we live on
And we have technology
To follow
More than ever
Better
(stronger
faster
Colonel Austin)
And
Hey
The Olympics close up soon
With all the claims for bragging rights
Displayed
And soon the second set
Will start
Impressive
Being second
(they try harder
as I think
Hertz or Avis
used to do)
Goodness
All the filaments
To make a globe into a lightbulb
Illuminating
All that may be seen
Unobfuscated
By agendas that go hiding
Certainly
I mean more than eyes
And also ears to hear
Or counting each one
All our limbs
For those for whom the count
Uniquely
Goes
(as these next Olympic exercises
show)
With what we have
And haven’t
Se may sense
And we may suss
Adding all we might receive
And so
Abstractly make
A world
To fill in with all the physical we know
And thus have
(from inside out)
What in school is called
A worldview
Our sense
(using sense)
Of how things are
And are perceived
And how we are
With these
Weather
Conflict permitting
Maybe we should each
Take a walk
A little ways
Today
To think
To feel
To probe on this
Like sonar
Radar
Laser
Microwaves
To find the Earth
That’s ours
Where we left it
Or where we pick it up
Anew
As if
Regardless of our age
But trying
Anyway
For the first
Time
Speaking for Joel Chandler Harris and Well Me
I don’t know how correct
Br’er Rabbit is
I mean
I read the Wren’s Nest
And I see the photographs
More so
I want to get
The colors right
That Uncle Remus lay
With Mister Harris
Behind
But it’s
You see
A memory
On records
(those flat black round things
we used to play
that have come back)
And we would hear for hours
About Br’er Bear
Br’er Fox
Br’er Rabbit
And also of the Tar Baby
Black
But what do you want for tar
Which is to say
I want someone more
Expedient and also longer than I am
To tell me
What’s all right
Down South
And in the Yankee land
To keep ol’ Remus in my head
Which by the way
He won’t be leaving
Anyway
Though I’ll hush up about it
If I should
C L Couch
Photo by Hans Eiskonen on Unsplash
more pamphleteering
(3 poems, rebel with a pause or as the cat might say a paws)
Flawed
There are days
When there are
Nothing
But flaws
Maybe the kind of
Flaws
That might be fixed
Or re-trained
Or re-adjusted
Somehow
Or they are flaws
The kind
That remain
About which there is
No hope of changing into
Something good
Or even
Little more
Than barely
Tolerable
The cracks in the walls
And maybe
The foundation
The leaks
In the roof
As well
With divots in the yard
And even cuteness
In the squirrels
Is mollified
By the way they overrun
The feeder
Set
You know
For birds
The wider spaces
Might be grand
The siding
And the brickwork
Nearly perfect
And all the paint inside
Looks
Pretty good
Though what we see
Is the crack
That happened because
Things that have been around
For a while
Develop lines
And sometimes
The lines
Widen
Not minimized
To their resemblance
Of a mischievous
Stream
Upon a map
You might say
Well
It’s all just attitude
Isn’t it
And I have to say
And maybe anyone whose
Flaws are
Evident
Must say
Nope
The flaws are there
They’re real
And they’re lasting
Although
You’re right
There is an attitude
Over
Which to consider more
And
Or course
How to deal with what there is
The flaws that threaten
Should be addressed
Do-it-yourself
(-myself)
And/or
(preferably and)
Done-by-others
To be fixed
Enough
For more than jazz
For life outside
The venue
In the sudden daylight
Too
Some lines
And cracks remain
Which is real
For they are real
Endurable
Even considerable signs
Of endurance
Even achievement
And attraction
As what is
Structure
Shall
Last longer
Attraction
If we understood
That certain flaws are fine
(beyond
fine lines)
And it’s all right
And even good
They last
As if to say
In an encounter
To oneself
This place does not have perfection
As agenda
This place
Is grand with age
This place is welcome
This place
Is home
Denizen
The word
Today
Like the old game
Is
What shall it be
Watermelon
Lamp
Radio
Nostalgia
Love
Intransigence
Toward love
Why don’t we love
Ennui
Fright
Movie
Safety
Home
And are we safe at home
(another game)
And
Well
It’s relative
Against
A dying planet
And those who away
Who
Looking in
Might say
This is
Such a resource
Such an opportunity
Why did they let it go
So badly
There are wars
And also there is
Nature
Aggravated
By themselves
To greater storms
And harsher seasons
So far from
Design
That yet is evident
Maybe we should take over
Maybe we could help them
Save themselves
From of course
Themselves
For we know how this goes
So it went with us
Before the next-to-last crisis
Set us on
The edge
And all we could do
Then
Was try to find a way
To widen the edge
And then
If we could
Build back from either side
Because there was
Our abyss
Of destruction
All around
And that’s it
Isn’t it
We survived
And got
To this place
Where we are here
Cleanly
And with confidence
Today
At home
And in our orbits
Far beyond
And we must leave
These to it
To their Earth
And come back in a while
Should there be
Some unity
And health in unity
To have a planet
Have a world
Wet with life
And creatures
Green
And blue again
As it seems now
But it is pushed
They push it
Their own world
Toward something like
The line
We knew so well
Grind
(for the first day of spring in these parts)
Now it’s a cold
Day
Because we’re into spring
Last week
It was warm
While winter breathed
Hot upon the leaves
And sleeping
Lawn
Beneath
Topsy-turvy
Then
In fact
He says
At noon
It will be colder
Coming days
Sigh
When to plant
When to turn
When
To work
To play
To dance
What should lie fallow
Really should
For variegated futures
In the land
Although
We need what’s planted
Every day
Not merely
Grocery-store expectation
Anymore (that
does not
recognize the seasons
when the berries
or the lettuce
might be ready)
but the need
To feed our animals
To weave our clothing
Out of wool
Even to work the leather
And best-guess
Nutrients
And timing
Year-round
Of course
To feed our children
On our farm
And in the city
And all over
In the wilderness
Made worse
(beyond appreciation
in and of itself)
By droughts
And wars
We’ve heard of
And it’s a guess
But I think it the way
We have them that
The cows
Need milking
Every day
And there’s that magic
In the harvest
(unreal)
That should happen every day
Releasing everything
We want
That we want
To believe
Is always
(anymore)
Fairly gathered in
A world of expectations
Fiercely specific
On a faded Earth
Running out of time
If
We’re not careful
And
We’re not careful
C L Couch
Photo by Yuri Malishenko on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
3 poems, when you have time (one poem about observation, one about reading, one about war taking all)
x
x
Observe and Report
x
For preamble
Nothing like
The burdens of a people
Upon Joshua
Or Caleb
x
What’s petty
What is meaningful
Too often
I don’t know
I pick up a stone
It’s not a park
There are no regulations
I take the thing with me
Becomes an artifact
At home
x
I am reminded
Of the Earth
We are set on
So many layers
To the center
Countless to go out
Again
To try to count
x
Clueless
It and I
While it’s supposed to be
And I think I should know something
About the atoms
The formation
Its place
Near my fingers
When I found it
When I take it up
Look upon it
Now
x
x
Read Me
x
Not unlike the words
Commanding
Alice
To forward
Her adventure
x
Words
Well
Words have
Such value
So the lines are short
While
Reading slowly is advised
Going slowly
Generally
x
Yours should be read
This way
As well
x
Time is a treasure
Though we should parse it out
Surrender it in particles
x
Not worrying so much
About the measure
Since the bill
Of sale
Is not our own
But investment the creator made
Inside creation
x
So let’s take our time
As said
Although again
It’s not our own
But lent
At best
And for our use
Simply
As use
x
Please take time to read me
I’ll take time
Reading
You
And then there’s
The needful time
For vital
As in lively
Response
x
x
War and After, After
x
The wars go on
Again
I can’t imagine
The explosions
The dust
The rubble
And the blood
Beneath
x
And the things of blood
Of bodies
That once held the lives
Of souls
While here on Earth
x
Now stolen
As if by gods
Self-styled
With machines
Black and pretty
Smithed
In hell
x
And this is metaphor
Impressions
The real thing
For those alive
Is all about
The running
Avoidance of more anything
Like that
Again
x
And then it happens
There is more
It’s worse
Nothing inside ourselves
Ever
Really
Gets used to it
x
And then
Maybe there’s a moment when
The silence rings
Notes of nothing
Anymore
While looking
Touching
For flesh containing life
We might embrace
To take
And to offer
What we have
x
And there might be people
Come from
Too short a way
To find us
For ourselves
To treat us
Representing
Something clean
And institutional
Away
x
We might be taken there
Where
Objectless walls
Close in
With noises in the distance
Or have we brought them with us
And is it noise
That closes in
The distance
x
We need medication
Sedative
To leave all this
Except for bodies
That have names
xxxxxWe cherish both
xxxxxWe want them
xxxxxHave to search for them
xxxxxTo know them
xxxxxAnd to have them
xxxxxOnce again
x
Though we might have to settle
In without response
While life is measured
Sometimes
Without
The power to the building
And their efforts
And the dust
And rubble
That came in with us
x
The war
The damning war
The reason we say bloody
For the worst
Things we can think of
x
Fleshly containers
Holding flesh
Until they must
Let go
x
Who are they
What are their names
Who are we
Where are we going
x
War take all
Peace for the remnant
The ghostly revenant
Left over
The dust
Of everything that’s taken
For what’s left over
To remain
x
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Ansia Lasa on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Poetry and Senses (3 poems)
x
x
Upstart Clay
x
God will help us through
By being quiet
Leaving all the noise to us
Except the wind
Maybe the water that descends
To strike the surface
Maybe on the ancient
Mountaintop
That moans
Or the young one that must explode
Or pushing geysers through
The scalding
Earth
x
So there
God might be noisy
After all
To take a part in all this
And remind us
Of the presence
And natural participation
Of the maker
And the making
Which is us
Fashioning our noise
Into making something
Too
x
x
The Color Wheel
x
There is yellow
There is red
Then blue
There are the colors
In between
Orange
Purple
Green
And there we are
x
No white
Or pink carnation
For a crayon
No black to see
Though depending on perspective
Black might be suffuse
x
We love our color wheel
Couldn’t get along
To see
Without it
And the colors might turn concepts
To explain
x
To touch sometimes
Though there is no distinction
Doing that
To smell the color
Which is to smell the paint
Nothing to hear
Unless the wheel
Be turning
And there is humming from an engine
Or a supplicating gear
x
Imagine Earth the wheel
Us the fashioners
How are we doing
Are we colorful
Do we six colors
Bordered
Unattended
Or do we mix and blend
And have a globe
Outstanding
Then when turning
Make a noise
Send a message
To the others
Here we are
Introduce us to yourselves
x
x
Wheels within Wheels
x
Wheels within wheels
That had been said
As it’s been invented
With clay
With metal
In the mind
Over centuries
x
As a metaphor
Plots within plots
Every smaller
Going out
Ever larger
So that families
And nations
Are affected
Even over thrown
Reinvented
From parts left over
Rounded
And toothed
To have new rhythms
And redesigned
Noise
x
Wheels that press
Or parts caught
Inside gears
Or there’s so much pressure
So much lack of space
That something crushes
Unless so difficult itself
Breaks the gear
Breaks the wheel
x
And someone
Victor
I suppose
Must rework everything
So that we’re round again
And might make music
This time
As we turn
Through space
And time
x
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Matt Seymour on Unsplash
x
clcouch123 
Recent Comments