the better reign in hell
(the devil says)
I exhale
you exhale
too
you better
unless it’s your time
in which case
breathe in peace in heaven
where there might be no breath
no need for it
or perfect air
in which to take one breath
or many breaths
forever
and water
such water
drink
wash
whatever
simply walk by
and feel the drops escaping from
the movements toward the
temple of the savior
and the monarch
one of the three
with three in one
and we might be three in one as well
each one of us
flesh
spirit
divine affiliation
life in heaven
noisy
quiet
safe except there were those hints of war
a ruin here and there
perhaps
not because the crafters couldn’t fix them
but because even in heaven
we should learn something
and there was rebellion
after all
or will be
and I don’t know who choses
maybe only angels
and
maybe we’re fodder on the Earth
the middle Earth
while in heaven we mortals-immortals now
much make our choices
too
renew our vows
toward one way or the other
cheering our side on
toward Armageddon
here
and so it seems
by prophecy
on the Earth we’ve known
and might know best
for a while
at least
new to our citizenship in heaven
closer to the leaders
Jesus with his love
Michael with his sword
the Spirit issues strategy
the rows of heaven
know
while God commands it all
and weeps
within a quiet hour in heaven
and maybe all eternity
cosmic
and ethereal
a time for tears
before the onslaught that’s been called
since Eden
or before
when the devil became serpentine
and with all fauna
was given a place there
and something honest
of its nature
but now
there is new gleaming
for the fight
that only one side wants
with one agenda for it
and on two plains
the ranks line up
for the first
and only battle
ever
to determine who shall win
heaven
with eternity
itself
and the reward
of breaking self from all
affiliation
to determine free
without direction
code
or morality to guide
no restrictions
or parameters
only
self
that shall lead to self-destruction
though the devil doesn’t care
for being lord of everything
that’s wrecked
against sub-lordship
subordinate if to only one
in heaven
the lordship
is what sells the angels on its
side
each one a monarch
to its own
and on the full-dimensional plane
that angels have inhabited
in all ages
in the ageless way
and that’s what is withheld
that everyone shall be a lord
of nothing
material
abstract
but over a lack of existence
more and more
in victory
so-called
lords of nothing in particular
having lost all matter
of all kinds
perspective the last thing
to go
perhaps
but something
and then nothing
which shall be the reign of hell
after
exhausting love
until only judgment
must remain
c l couch
photo by Sergio Capuzzimati on Unsplash
Loss Is Great
(a fantasy)
1
Loss is great
So in loss
Like a song
I wander
And
I wonder
I’m sure the loss in heaven
Was felt greatly
More so
Maybe
Than the war that followed
That goes on
Still
Perhaps
What do we know
Of time and strategy
Among
Timeless
(and all-strategic)
Beings
Will it be over
When
Revelation says so
And how much is this war
Our war
It seems
For lack of orders
We do not fight
In this
And yet
Something like effects
Are always with us in
Mortality
That is
Temptation
Even falls
Great falls
Some of us
Take
And how much influence
How much willfulness
Decided
How much
Or all
Of it
Person or demon
Devil
Behind it all
Deceiving
That seems to be its job
So is the war all
Around us
Because
I don’t think we’re training
For it
I don’t think we’re supposed to be
Fighting
In it
Meaning
I mean
How could we
2
Orders
Above
Has me thinking
Order
Then orderly
(the noun more than
the adverb)
And might I serve as
An orderly
Behind
The line
Fixing
(helping to fix)
Wounded angels
Why
That would be
Wonderful service
Yes
The wonder
In the angels
But the wonder in
The service
For I could not fight for lack
Of wings
Or blades
Or
You know
An unlimited kind of strength
Yet
I could serve this way
To fix the angels
Then with trench-deep regret
Know
They return
And should a demon
Hurt
Come to the table
Then we fix it
Too
Because in love
There can be no other
Craft
No other option
To apply
Though
When repaired
It
Too
Returns
Maybe tries to hurt us
As it begins
I don’t know what protections
Might be
Afforded orderlies
From Earth
(or moon or Mars
depending on the length
of battle)
Maybe no succor
Whatsoever
Since
Triage
Would be for
Celestial soldiers
Of all orders
First
And there’s the word
Orders again
And maybe I wake up
To hear the cry
Or is it
Near my ear
The mourning dove
Through
Glass
And I wake
To mortal pain’s
Return
C L Couch
(one allusion is to “I Wander as I Wonder,” a song by John Jacob Niles)
Photo by Javier Allegue Barros on Unsplash
Dear Heart
What shall I
Say
What shall I
Do
Today
I ask and ask
While there are no letters
In the sky
What shall I
Pray then
For an answer
A direction
If not
A plan
How about the next
Step
Only
How about an inclination
Certainly a push
Should help
A small one
Maybe
I won’t
Tell your supervisors
Or maybe you could help
With this
Great weight
That seems
To be weighing more
Today
Some small lightness
Which
I’ll take for
Freedom
To move along
Dear angel
Thank you
Knowing you are there
Is
Of course
Something good
More than
You know
You know
C L Couch
Photo by Jason marquis on Unsplash
Prayer for Me and Everyone
(and everyone who needs to pray this way)
O God
Our help
Help me
Keep me safe
And sane enough
For jazz
Or really
For the world
Largely indifference
But with those
As we say
(as I say)
Who’d just as soon
Cheat you
As smile at you
(who cheat you
first
by smiling
at you)
Really
Though
I need your company
And to feel it
Please
As companionship
If I may ask
Not so much
As a judge
Even though you are
And shall
And woe to me
When that business
Comes
And
Yes
I’m thinking
Like the Amish farmer
Who when asked
If saved
Replied
For all this faith
And service
I hope so
And I hope so
Though there is a world
That needs you
Even for orneriness
And even
Scorn
And hatred
For the differences
It fears
While some of us find
Difference
Interesting
And how did I evolve
This way
Conservative
Yet believing
In the prismatic way
One light becomes
Well
Help me
Lord
Please
I am too poor
Without resources
To do much
But I am I
Such as that is
And it seems
According to doctrine
And the smallest
Mustard-seed
Like
Miracles that happen
You persist
Somehow perfectly
In loving me
And keeping me
And I’d like to ask
And will
About my friends
By blood
And choice
And happenstance
And for a world
That’s cracked
And losing air
To please give everyone
A chance
And then another
We need you
In unknowing
We are a cloud of witnesses
If a stormy
One
You made
And let become
Over ages
Where is Eden now
Where are the rivers
And the perfect
Vegetation
And shall
We ever
Know such things again
As at the start
If that
The angel on assignment
Could step down
And lowering
The sword on fire
Raise the other arm
Then say
The trialing time is over
Welcome back
C L Couch
Photo by NASA Hubble Space Telescope on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
Longing for the God who Stays
x
Now to say
Something about God
Whom I do not know
A phantom lover
Cupid to Psyche
Embodied in the night
Gone by morning
x
And there the myth must end
For there’s a presence
Always
In the day
In all the hours
Probably in nanoseconds
In the smallest things
Perhaps
Angels dancing with electrons
‘Round the nuclei ephemera
Of thought
And awareness
x
Then the lovers meet
Again in dreams
Where we might talk
Words becoming solid
Resting in the liquid
Like a loving cup provided
Of the night
Out or which
We drink
Words and meaning
Clearly
In the night
x
Which might work
For a spiritual life
Except that in the daytime
There are daytime expectations
x
Who really stays
Who really goes
I make up things
For fear
Of isolation
And a longing for solidity
For the God who’s always there
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Luca Bravo on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
prose poem about an—
x
–found and read a story about an angel. A long time ago, I had a book of stories about angels. As far as I know, I don’t have that book now; and I don’t know where I got it. I don’t where I was when I read this story. I seem to recall an institution-like place, a school cafeteria or something, though the light was not widespread and where it was was divided starkly between itself and shadow. Maybe I’m imagining my imagining of the setting of the story. This angel looked like a tramp. He appeared in tattered clothes with a tattered raincoat over all. He didn’t like where he was or that he had to look and feel this way. I think he tended not to like his assignments all that much. In this story, he saved someone; and I think he did this rather often, saving people. At the moment just before salvation, he manifested as an angel. As an angel should be. He was majesty, all power and fear. His wings were wide and they reached high. There was great light through him (hmm, I guess he was depicted as male); and the evil in the story was overwhelmed, the human client rescued. Afterward, he felt some contentment as an angel, though he knew he would be leaving and would be changing into whatever the next place and time required—not by his reckoning. So he was about to leave and then—and this was the style of the writer—vanish in the middle of a–.
x
this story was written I believe by Stephen Donaldson who has composed the chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever; if I’m wrong then I apologize all around; I don’t recall the name of the anthology or the particular story cited, and I don’t know who else wrote the other stories—the theme was angels, that’s what I know and that I often think of this story, this time strongly enough to set something down
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Ramez E. Nassif on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
An Angel Visits Francis
x
I speak to God today
God is quiet
Not uninvolved
With nothing noisy
To contribute
Beyond the rain outside
The singing tires
The occasional movement
Inside
From a neighbor
Or from me
x
I wonder when an angel
Visits Francis
How it goes
No, don’t get up
Relax the hand with the ring
No doubt you lift the office
With an instinct
Anymore
I’m here to rest with you
For a moment
To be still
You know the issues
And the crises in the world
One of us will tell you
When there are
Awful surprises
You are doing well
We are
I am
Sorry when you’re sick
The age and job
Do take it out of you
You could retire
Like your peer
Sometimes I think
He has the better part
But I don’t think you’ll give up
‘Til you have the sense
You’re done
Remember I am here
We are here
We fly around you
Dance with happiness
Or grief
You know we are not
The round things of the Renaissance
But are might beings
Wide in span
And awful
As in full of awe
To know us
And carry power
You know whose
And are ready
Should you wish us to defend
Evil forefend
Should you wish to rest with us around
And when you’re ready
To be escorted
Even carried
Home
x
We are will
And we love you
x
Back to me
And God is ready for your voice
When you wish to speak
Or keep it in your mind
The better things
Are in your heart
We’re told,
Which means your spirit
The spirit of the Lord
Is with you, too,
Waking or sleeping
Like the song
Agents of God
Angels and nature
Sing around you
Sometimes difficult
Impossible, it seems,
To hear
But singing nonetheless
The music of the spheres
The song that’s in your sphere
Of hope
And love
To resonate with good things
To navigate the bad
There is help
In that
In both
x
C L Couch
x
x
x
(x = space)
x
x
Genesism
x
We were thrown out:
Don’t blame Eve,
I don’t;
The serpent could have
Just as easily
Caught Adam first
And both fall
After choosing to take bites
x
And if you believe
The woman had such power,
Go ahead—I
Wouldn’t stop you
x
Did they see the angel,
Looking back?
The orange or the yellow
Of a blade on fire?
Feel the heat?
Did they know for sure
They must go another way,
Not to return
For ages?
x
Well, they were given
Clothing,
They were given curses
Also callings,
They knew what they’d have to do
To live;
And so with their descendants,
So with us,
The myth goes on
For hunters and for music;
We build a tower
To do better than the curses
x
The tower falls;
We cannot speak to each other,
Anymore
x
So we build in separation;
Cities rise
And as must follow
Empire:
Strong people rule somehow
And we let their children rule
x
Was it worship
Or respect
Or indifference?
We had our farms to tend;
Soon there would be machines
x
We raised walls
To keep ourselves upon the plains,
Set outposts in the mountains,
Surrounded waterways,
x
And with food
And bright blades
Secured the promises
Of generations
x
Nation went to war
Against nations;
Many gods were worshipped,
Some directed
x
We have stone
And paper manuscripts
And ruins upon ruins
That are testimonies
x
And are we rising?
We hope so;
There are awful, lateral movements
And descensions—call
Them massacres,
Call slavery,
Call rule by one
With only one served,
One living well
x
Democracy is rising;
Call it something else;
We keep at it
x
How about
Soon we grow
Without anything but growth?
x
After-Eden flaws remain;
Maybe we’ll understand at last
Divinities approving
Of mortality,
Mortal accountancy
In meeting needs,
Accountability,
Repentance,
And renewal
x
Rockets go toward the moon,
Soon with people
Who will stay awhile
While we aim for Mars,
Send rockets to the rest;
We hope the Voyagers
Will find friends
x
We’re not perfect,
We’re not even better
x
If we keep our flaws,
And we own mortality
Then we’ll do all right
For legacy:
The joy in now
x
C L Couch
x
x
Water, Light, and Long Shutter Speeds
Photo by Ahmad Dirini on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
An Angel Drops the Mic
x
Show’s over
Time for applause
Be impressed with me
The talent
And the portent
The agency
I am
And represent
x
This was fun
Next time you see and hear me
The show will be the last
And best
And afterward
Maybe a revue in
Our new place
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by BRUNO EMMANUELLE on Unsplash
x
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