look forward in anger
awkwardness and shame
and so I force
myself
to show up at things
a gathering of nearly any kind
friends
church
the
store
and I hadn’t had this thought ‘til now
years of wishing
I suppose
as I had been reinforced
to be
alone
and to an extent perceived maybe
by
the company I kept
though Jesus knew sinners
after all
and
Jesus knew me
somehow it’s a child’s feeling
too
perhaps
due to how I was treated
how
some awful thoughts took hold and so
would not let go
and maybe I’ll be free
someday
maybe the demon will be forced to leave
since
it can’t be comfortable in there with
all
the praying with the supplication
yet
there are claws as hooks and
to ask
how pleasant is a life a hell
disappointed by
one’s lord
so the demon will stay
encouraging
the awkwardness and shame
not
to mention all the anger over Prufrockian
plotting and
not hearing angels
sing
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a reference or an allusion is made to “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” a modern poem by T. S. Eliot in which the protagonist quests to find mythic meaning, that is, to find something beyond oneself (yet connected to)
there is also an opposite use of the title Look Back in Anger by John Osborne, a play from 1956 about post-war life with meaning
while the feelings plus divisions mentioned in the poem are my own
photo by Tomas Trajan on Unsplash
2 poems about angels
angels at the apocalypse
they all be working
I imagine
though I guess there could be some
held in reserve
I don’t know if our angels will have time for us
but then
I don’t know how many there are
even
if a third fell
how do we count these
and I doubt on
the head of a pin
Jesus said
legions
but he was audience-aware
maybe we’ll have our guardians on
assignment
still
with enough to fill the final battlefield
archangels
leading
taking care of their eldritch own
and all good beings might
weep
in
conquest
and by victory
ourfield
the wings are never long enough
not wide enough
not
wild enough
you’ll note
that birds
except the hummingbird phenomenon
tend toward having
twice
with length of wings as of
their bodies and how
much
more majestic
fearful
wings proportional unfolding from the centers
of the angels
we rarely indicate their power
or
the awe they should invoke
if
a fraction of the might of
their maker
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photo by Marek Studzinski on Unsplash
“Angels in the Outfield,” a story by Richard Conlin, which began a film franchise
how are you God
how are you
Lord
how are your angels
how is heaven
these days
ten thousand years a day
our songs could
count
transparent gold and as a metaphor
or actual
I don’t get
it
and
don’t need to
so much about eternity
honestly
it can
overwhelm of course by normal reckoning
though
you understand our senses
having you know
making these
and
eternity to ponder
thank you
Lord and I might ask
for
help with the imponderables
not
only to apprehend but
to carry
by
the muscles
outside
inside
that we have
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The twelve gates were twelve pearls, each gate made of a single pearl. The great street of the city was of gold, as pure as transparent glass.
Revelation 21:21
(NIV)
photo by Phil Hearing on Unsplash
delight by angels
(on and in a wintry day in the Northeast of here)
God
and
do your angels like the snow
do they runnel along branches
covered
are the trees
and they
make snow-themselves
upon the ground
or
do they slide through nebulae
on a break from
helping in the birth of stars
and
then to mourn the passing
of those
dying
even if there’s balance in the energy
and mass
you know
of
star-stuff
do angels delight
and
I so deeply hope they do
for
all their service
over eons
between Earth and heaven
and the war besides
which
they endured
genderless or genderful
they know
the universe
in
which they work by assignments
and I hope
on their own to play
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photograph by Klim Musalimov at Unsplash
an intrusion of angels
a well-written angel in the story
and
how many stories
“Littlest”
“The Bishop’s Wife”
Clarence
you know
we know
also in A Wrinkle
and in a short story by Donaldson
a while ago
I read
if
starting and ending mid-
sentence
and with the might and glory
of
that being only appearing in the moment
when most needed
then
to humble
if
homeless into the next assignment
and I belabor this
(and
these)
because it seems we like the angels
or
we fear them
or
we need them
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“Unworthy of the Angel” by Stephen R. Donaldson—I looked it up to remember
the word for a group of angels, well, there are several words—choir, host, flight, pinion, and legion—and I made up intrusion
photograph is by Dennys Hess at Unsplash
(oh, the prompt is a depiction of an angel, so I believed or decided, in a teleplay)
player-manager
(sequel to yesterday’s)
if demons can get in
then angels
must
their being two sets of choices
of
the same
which leaves the ministry of saints
on which to
suppose
and yet
angels in our thoughts
waiting
like service in the outfield
and
aren’t we the luckiest alive
by
baseball
some would say an angel game
requiring grace
with
lots of space
for spirit-lives to play
while
angel-thoughts might not go ‘round
the bases though there’s
strategy
at
bat and in the field
isn’t there
then
angels and demons could play
to work out the apocalypse
not
that they will
the way
in the northwest
or
southwest
depending
a border dispute was worked out
Canada with USA
by
the score after nine innings
and
as Thurber says
you could look it
up
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(sorry, angels got me thinking about baseball, maybe because of the movies
and my dad, from Olympia, told the story about the local/international border dispute that was decided by a baseball game)
photo by Ryan Arnst on Unsplash
chapbooklet for wrapping up the workaday week
(should you work this kind of week with its work days)
Guide
I’ve been on trails
And there were guides
And other sites
With guides
Though Mammoth Cave
Through the National Aquarium
I thought I’d like to be a guide
And applied
And got the job
Fort Necessity
But
Too far away
And I was unwell
And so stayed put
Sigh
We think of guides
They do their jobs and then
We put them
Aside
To lead our guideless lives
Except
By ourselves
And anyone who tells us what
To do
And we obey
Or otherwise we go along
Conductoring
I like conducting
I discovered rather late
I have good sense of rhythm
And a good
Sense of pitch
I have directed groups
But did not have the chance
Realities
Subsuming
To get the training I would need
To do it and be taken
Seriously
So I do the phantom thing
As others do
Conduct when no one’s looking
There might be music on
Or all the pieces
All the voices
All the movements
In my head
Southpaw
I am left-handed
Which
Yes
I’m told means I live
In my right mind
Statistically
(I suppose actuarially)
I
Understand
We lead shorter lives
Up to
Five years less
Which seems unfair
For all the terrific baseball-pitching
We
Provide
Guidance Counselor
I think that God guides
Though I’m not sure
Although
Before my doubt should intervene
My instincts
Worldly
Ego-driven
Take over all the choices
Sometimes I withhold
The choice
Long enough to hear
Or note the tug
Of the angel voice
Or pull
To indicate
This is what I should
Do
Where I should go
So I don’t know
It’s not
Negotiation
For we’re not in any
Way
In equal places
Equal parts
And yet
It matters how I listen
How
I respond
My decisions
(predestination notwithstanding)
Seem
To matter
Which might we say
From time to time
To listen to
Your know
The better angels
The other ones
Fallen like us
And yet for that kinship
We must look
To rise
Like the ones who fly
Roll of Thunder
First the lightning
Then the crash right after
Lightning
Close
Then the count took place
Increased
As hours passed
Flashes
Persisted
Though the numbers
Said the lightning had moved on
Inside
No lights flickered
Which
In a dismal state
Added balm to despair’s
Ennui
We Are Closed
(open to what’s next)
The hours close in
The last of the workweek
In my
Current culture
There will be a kind of ending
Paced by exhalations
As we leave
Where we have been for
Hours
Naturally enough
And on our way
(exhaling)
Toward home
Or pubs
Or whatever satisfied
Distracts
Over the connotative weekend
C L Couch
Have a splendid weekend!
(should you have the weekend)
Photo by Hasan Almasi on Unsplash
Promised Responding
And what
Shall
Happen
When we hear
Like Horton
(only
louder)*
We are here
Meaning
The host of heaven
Small and gargantuan
Depending on
Dimension
And
Dimension’s need
Ready
When we beckon
Or soaring ready
In flight mode
Or on the ground in
Angel
Ranks
Maybe loving us
On fine days
Merely
Or to have to march
(or land)
Upon
Megiddo
To realize apocalypse
And fight for us on
Our side
Meaning the side of all
The believers
Not through possession of
The pride
Of
Victory
So much as that love
By appreciation on
That fine day
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(Horton Hears a Who is cited)
Photo by Katarina Dodig on Unsplash
“My favourite street corner in Dubrovnik” (photographer’s caption).
*(still, still small voice)
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
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photo by Sergio Capuzzimati on Unsplash
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