purple process
I might want
to
make a point though
purple is its own
and
point on a candle top
perhaps
to say
let’s light a season
over Sundays
while in each set
of six-days’
living
after
and
between
it could be that
maybe
altogether
days
something needing change
is changed
something still
as quiet
also remaining be reminded
delta season
then
also alpha and omega
or simply take in purple moments
alit
awhile
c l couch
(for Advent or could be another season)
photograph by Alexander Fastovets at Unsplash
Mogilev, Belarus
time and temporality
(for dreamers and for planners)
we look
we hear
we wonder
as we wander
like the song
out under the sky
or being still
having gone nowhere
perforce
or by design
the need to have some time
an hour or a day
in which we do not move
but traverse everything
inside
and inside
where shall we go
what shall we
hear
what shall we
see
what shall we smell
or get a taste of
what is the other sense
what shall we taste
though we may
also travel throughout
time
slip into other states of being
as our possibilities
visit other worlds
that we make
for moments
that never happened
though we may go there
for the possibility
the changes
the resolutions
never having taken place
except there
in what we visit
on the inside
that time and life
under the sun
never allowed
waking issues
that are not solved
out here
but we should
do this
this is good
a friend of mine might say
about ideas
when we planned things
together
in the day
this added time to dream
might engender
visions
three dimensions
only
but good experiences for
our constituencies
starting with
those of
one
then two
and who’s to say
the dimension of the spirit
or the spirits
will not be joining us
the outer life
the inner life
somehow touched and satisfied
through dreaming and
then
through waking
c l couch
I wonder as I wander, out under the sky,
how Jesus the Savior did come for to die
for poor ordinary people like you and like I;
I wonder as I wander, out under the sky.
adapted by John Jacob Niles
photo by Ferdinand Stöhr on Unsplash
"Sunset in Vancouver"
(x = space)
x
x
Babe
x
Advent 4
That sometimes falls on Christmas Eve
Smooshing our liturgies
Though sometimes it is Christmas day
For greater smooshing
x
We light four candles now
From sources
Matches
Friction inside brass cases
Long metal sticks with flames
Other candles
x
There is a fifth candle
Waiting
Which doesn’t stand for anything
No merging of symbols
Or guesses at tradition
It is Christ’s candle
It means Christ
Alone
x
The baby born at last
Who came to term
In Advent
And in that
A hurrying of the season
One month
While eight months somehow
Happened somewhere else
In ordinary time
Perhaps
A mother
Would know how to count
x
But Christ
Soon will be born
Another season
Lasting something like
Twelve days
Twelve days to celebrate
To sing like angels
With the fact they sing
Though nothing
Like their song
Their heavenly keys
Supernal rhythms
x
So this is the last
Before he comes
Anticipation’s nearly done
And (nearly) all our candles lit
We know
We are illumined
As much as we shall have
Before arrival
This final lesson
Only
x
In that
Christ arrives
Christ arrives
Not only once a year
Though once
As a liturgical
Baby
x
There’s
Dedication
While the rest of the time
He’s pretty grown
With grown-up things to say
x
Though he elevates
Other children
In the notion that
Innocence
Unworldly honesty
Make the way to lead
As well as
How to live
x
So ask for blessings
On the child
For we might not know
Where God ends
And the human part begins
x
There might be surprise
And pain
To have come into the world
The way as all
Like us
Who arrive
And now to live here
With us
For us all
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Anna Vander Stel on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
The Givers
x
I need to speak better
With the Lord
And of the Lord
And of a maker’s love
Of nature
And more so
The people
Living in all mysteries
x
People and mysteries
Of how to number them
In and if
Any propriety
How to count
And within the will acceptable
Of all of us
(three entities)
x
For us
Receivers of all words
Too much is un-understood
The glass is dark
The ideal
Is on the other side
As are the mysteries
Resolved
x
But there is the need
The compulsion
To move, anyway
While
We are here
Somehow to invest
In invisible interaction
That is real
In the sense we cannot count
Or measure
Yet bears salvation
x
A book of hours
Indicates
Yet cannot reveal
As much as, say,
Look or hear into the gentle candle
While we pray
x
Our rites are fine
Many are elegant
With an aim
Toward dignity
Mixed with an agenda of
Information
Clarity
Through what is revealed
Finally vague
And believed
(by me for one)
Vague evidence for faith
As manifested,
Which is to say
As is
x
More elegant
(as well)
Is the spirit
In the sky at night
With its own stillness
And its risks
The careful and the wild
Embodied
And presented
In unmoving blue
Maybe with high clouds
That haunt
Or in the storm
That
Threatens
Or attempts to ravage
When released
Land and sea
And us between
x
The hours we have
Altogether
Organized
Unkempt
The lives we have
With all the unsolved parts
Priests
Religious
(liturgy composers)
Poets
Room for unbelievers
All work
In both realms
Created
Sub-created
And must own
Not in harmony
But harmony
The music of the spheres
We say
With all the mysteries
Set down to solve
And leave or let
Untouched
Unsolved
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Ali Choubin on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Five in Five
(memoriam)
x
Out, out, brief candle! but
A candle isn’t brief
That’s on us for
A metaphor
Sometimes a real one, I guess
Sometimes the candles
In the church
Are pretty short
And thus available
For show
x
But the candle length
Is years,
I guess we know
Three score and ten
In made-up inches
Or in centimeters
Or real ones
(as in church)
To illustrate
x
You see, they are ubiquitous
Both real and imagined
x
The length may vary
By abstraction
Fate
I guess
And relativity
Macbeth’s flame is undone
Too soon by happy counting,
Not as an end
To tyranny,
His tragedy of making
x
But this is not a nation
Or a clan
Though Scots be in it,
Great text
Or a metaphor
(sorry to mention
then dismantle)
Simply a life
As it was
And as it’s gone
Always
Every hour I think on it
Too soon
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Rob Wicks on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Ex-Temporaneous
x
It’s a dark day
Not enough for a
Ritual outside
And there’s rain
The sun tries
To come through
In patches
Dark hours nonetheless
x
That might be spent
At midnight
In the loft,
A vigil
And an offering
Prayer life in the dark
Ages behind that
x
Maybe a candle
Of the kind
That does not curse the darkness
But slices through it
If in, well, a fuzzy way
Batteries included
Diffuse Light and shadow
Diffuse
With unscripted words
Everything
Partnering
For the message
For the words
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Zoran Kokanovic on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
About Some Light
x
It’s dark:
Light a candle
(It can be electric)
To know the darkness
In relationship,
Which is the way to know
Nearly all
Good things
x
Knowing things
In relationship
(well,)
It can be electric,
Maybe a shock
But mostly learning,
Reflecting (hah) on
Brighter
(darker)
Currents through
Creation
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by PhotographyCourse on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Metaphorism
x
Are there candles
That burn
At both ends?
Is the illumination
Doubly helpful?
And what happens when
The ends meet
In between?
x
It’s an untried
Metaphor,
I guess
Like the silk purse
From the sow’s ear
Or trying to catch
The crocodile tears
x
Their value is
Instructive—still,
I’d like to see the candle,
Hear its twice-done
Hiss inside
The darkness
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Ronnie Overgoor on Unsplash
Everglades Alligator Farm, Homestead, USA
x
(x = space)
x
x
The Gifter
x
Something brief and fragile
Like the low candle
Ready to touch the plate,
Run out of life
Of thread and wax to burn
x
Who says “brief candle,”
Hamlet or Macbeth?
x
Both ready for an end,
Relinquished from the missions
Set upon by ghosts and witches
Daggers and blood
And other apparitions
x
That like the dagger
Blood on hands
In fact, all apparitions
x
Might be of the mind,
Modern interpretation
Of medieval magic
x
A gift of time in time
The gifter having only one
For whom the limitations
Of one time can
Never, never, never, never, never
Be enough
x
C L Couch
x
x
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more.
x
Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
x
x
red light
Photo by Maeghan Smulders on Unsplash
x
clcouch123 
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