[haiku]
I do not know why
the sap of the tree sometimes
bleeds human for me
c l couch
photo by Michael B on Unsplash
(x = space)
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3 poems, when you have time (one poem about observation, one about reading, one about war taking all)
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Observe and Report
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For preamble
Nothing like
The burdens of a people
Upon Joshua
Or Caleb
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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
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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
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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
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Read Me
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Not unlike the words
Commanding
Alice
To forward
Her adventure
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Words
Well
Words have
Such value
So the lines are short
While
Reading slowly is advised
Going slowly
Generally
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Yours should be read
This way
As well
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Time is a treasure
Though we should parse it out
Surrender it in particles
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Not worrying so much
About the measure
Since the bill
Of sale
Is not our own
But investment the creator made
Inside creation
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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
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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
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War and After, After
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The wars go on
Again
I can’t imagine
The explosions
The dust
The rubble
And the blood
Beneath
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And the things of blood
Of bodies
That once held the lives
Of souls
While here on Earth
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Now stolen
As if by gods
Self-styled
With machines
Black and pretty
Smithed
In hell
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And this is metaphor
Impressions
The real thing
For those alive
Is all about
The running
Avoidance of more anything
Like that
Again
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And then it happens
There is more
It’s worse
Nothing inside ourselves
Ever
Really
Gets used to it
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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The war
The damning war
The reason we say bloody
For the worst
Things we can think of
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Fleshly containers
Holding flesh
Until they must
Let go
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Who are they
What are their names
Who are we
Where are we going
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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
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C L Couch
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Photo by Ansia Lasa on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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A Taste of Hallowe’en
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Cream cheese
And blood
Breakfast flavors
Thanks to Philadelphia
And blood-thinners
Sigh
A life with medications
(and bagels)
I’m still here
And I know that’s something
Trick-or-treat
More trick
For me
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And is there a costume
For a bleeding breakfast-eater
Scary thing
(scarier)
Is there might be
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C L Couch
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Photo by Skyler Sawyer on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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distracted
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in the concluding
of the service
we sang
in the hymn
behold his hands and side
and I stopped following
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that’s hard
the hands and side were pierced
there was blood
out of its natural place
and it ran away
from the body,
stealing life
and we are to behold all this
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it happens to others, too,
the bleeding
from a fall
from a blade
(the scalpel blade is good)
or from a bullet
or from shrapnel
or part of a car or truck
or other crash
and we can talk about
what missiles do
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we release so much blood
and it becomes
the thief of life
x
what was Thomas thinking?
maybe he knew brutal living
and the dying
all too well
and didn’t mind the asking,
blood for proof
or the holes in hands
and mark of the spear
at least
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was he chagrined?
he knew his master
and the following
restored
for everyone, as far as
Thomas might be concerned
and in euphoria
he might not have cared so much
about the scolding
because blessed are those who
don’t need such evidence
for proof
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whatever
he was back
he was alive
the gruesome marks
the signs of blood,
blood now thwarted
in thievery
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the marks he saw—and
did he touch as bid?—either way
concluded,
concluded
everything
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c l couch
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photo by Allef Vinicius on Unsplash
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the story of Thomas doubting is in the twentieth chapter of John’s gospel in the Christian New Testament
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For Those Who Wonder if
For those who wonder if
There is a problem in old stories
That only those with blood
Can advance
You are the monarch because the blood
Of ancient times
Of your unknown kin
Goes through you
And that’s it
The magic works in you
You are on the way toward
Predetermined greatness
And those of us with water in our veins?
We can read
We can live in hope
But this is not for us
Our bloodless stories will not
Turn into magic
Except they can
Read the stories, like them
Don’t worry about unmatched inheritance
From Hemo the Magnificent
We have a better calling
Of a truer generation
We are here
We are now
We inherit the wind and the whirlwind
That is a real way
We make the present world
Of our lives
We are now
C L Couch
Abbazia di San Galgano
clcouch123 
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