a liturgy of us
(and smaller things)
exhale
think of something
of the spirit
now
what would that be
the green outside
perhaps
the blue that sponsors
all the green
the gold
the kind we cannot see
that might be
illumination
well-defined
but then
how well others know
there are other
senses
to be saved
and that save us
from
time to time
what do we hear
what do we
smell
and taste
and what are we touching
now
well
flat surfaces of gray
that smell
and (thankfully) taste
of nothing
though
there is
a tapping
we might hear
as above our chamber door
should there be a raven
perching like
the poet’s
trickster
maybe we smell the coffee
that we haven’t made
or the shower
we have yet
to take
(we break for both)
and now
we are back
with
coffee
to taste
water having touched us
and is this
the investment
of the spirit
that made everything
in six
days
as eras
though let’s not forget
there’s a seventh day for
rest
and maybe there’s mélange
a compromise
most days
in which we rise
from tries
at rest
at least
and then invest ourselves
in small things
call them readiness
and chores
and so we live
you know
as best we may
enormous things
to take
smally
and so ingest
as best we may
the cosmos
in our coffee
heaven
for Earth
as best we may
c l couch
photo by Florian Hahn on Unsplash
Water Works
I’ve written words
Here are some words
I need
More coffee
Be back soon
(soon-ish)
Back
With coffee
(rounded spoonful
thin rivulet
of count
to six for cream)
with some yogurt
Take a spoonful
Have a sip
Still missing ideas
Something
For you
For today
It is
A still day
To appreciate
Before the world’s noise
Returns
The last spoonful
And another sip
What shall I say
Beyond
Let’s have a day
And then another
Should apocalypse
Agree
Though I must
Say
I don’t spend hours
Worrying over this
And what happens next
For I don’t know
And neither
Do you
Which is a way
To say
Relax
Or at least
Worry over what there is
To worry
Over
Say
The health and joy in things
In the ones
We love especially
And the ones we pray for
Known
Or stranger
And more likely both
Maybe the message is
To pray
For there will be answers
And therein lay the risk
That when we ask
Or even state
There will be hearing
With response
Which might be a mystery
I don’t know
How it works
(you might)
Maybe we cry
Maybe
We stamp our feet for answers
That aren’t coming
On our terms
And there’s
The mystery
For there are answers
And why can’t
We always know them
Maybe best
To leave them in the air
Therein is faith
There in
And on the earth
And underneath
And in the ocean-depths
Is love
For us
(for each other
sourced
overall)
From God
Wash in all this
Clean in this
Our cleanliness ain’t perfect
But in what we may have
Be
Real good
C L Couch
. . .
Fishes and fowls
And beasts and birds
Swam the rivers and the seas,
Roamed the forests and the woods,
And split the air with their wings.
And God said: That's good!
James Weldon Johnson, “The Creation”
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
I’m Taking My Break
x
The haunting rises from
The coffee cup
When the liquid’s hot
Enough,
Aided by the air
That might be just-right cool
x
A spell upon the world
Not cast by anyone
Not by un-sentient machines
Or by any eldritch
Part
Of us
x
Like morning fog
There’s beauty in the vagueness
Indefinition
Wonder, too, as we look
Through
To the same as ever
And it’s not the same
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Ayaneshu Bhardwaj on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Let Me Tell You about My Day
(first hour or so)
x
Pre-dawn
x
Blue
And if you look into it,
A promise of silver
x
In a while,
The mourning doves might call
Take over for the cardinals
And the robins
Who might be louder elsewhere
x
The doves
Sing us into green
x
Town noise might subsume
The outside sounds
(except the doves who
are right against the window)
Except that it is Sunday
So the morning
Should be
Relatively quiet
For nature’s sentineling
And mine
We’ll find out
x
As for other senses,
Touch and smell and taste
Should have their turns
You might
Guess at the prospects
x
There’s still a war
Two wars, three wats
Still a virus
Many viruses
People will die today
And people will be born into
Air-breathing life
x
I’m a little late
Proposing all of this
Because the coffee cup
Slipped from my hand
And all the coffee
Slid
Down the down the
Sides of everything,
Flat surfaces
And cushioned
(a play of surface tension
and of gravity),
To land upon the floor,
Most of it
Slight sweet
More creamy than sweet
An expensive brand
Though not a kind
More dear
x
So I took time to
Clean the mess:
To clear out things,
Take things
To the sink
Where I’ll deal with them,
Sponge and paper towels
And cleaner for
The rest, for the floor
Now things have to dry
Then to be
Cleaned again
And there’s more coffee
To take out from
Its machine
x
Sigh,
One of those days
And what does that mean?
x
I see
The blue
And sense a silver promise
Like new friends
In a scouters’ song
x
I reckon now
You’ll have a day to survey
Finally
Of many hours
I’ll look forward to any
Of that story that
Might come my way
x
C L Couch
x
x
Before Dawn
x
(x = space)
x
x
We’re Sorry, Monday Morning
x
I have some toast
I’ll have some coffee soon
And there’s nothing like cold water
To begin it all
Libation and consumption
Lead to liberation
(with les jeu de mots)
We need water
Mine goes through filters
Because we cannot drink what
We have ruined, only
Stave against pollution
Does anyone on Earth
Or above the Earth
(the ETs who are watching)
Think we are lunatics,
Invested of the moon
In an invented way?
And what can we do?
Fix all the water
Apologize to Earth
Tell Gaia that
We won’t do it again
x
C L Couch
x
x
Itto Ogami, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=53127564
Piazza del Campo!
(Fonte Gaia, Siena)
x
East of Java
My first real taste of the day
Is bittersweet
I simply mean my morning cup of coffee
To which, yes, I add
Something sugary,
Which means I set it up
The contradiction and the paradox
First thing
First need
C L Couch
Coffee berries with insect bites.
Jyppe Quidores – Own work
Nearly Mostly
Nearly mostly,
I try to find you
In the shortness of a winter day
In the length of a summer’s evening
In the annals of my life
That go far beyond my journal
In memories
In hidden places
I can only look for,
Such are the limitations
Nearly mostly,
I want to know you
I’d like to stay with you
Or you with me
Or we have coffee in a café somewhere
Along the edge
Away from chaos
Nearly mostly
Then when I leave
I’d like to go your way
If you’d care for company
And would consider me
Fit enough, at least for a while
Nearly mostly
C L Couch
CC0 Public Domain
https://pxhere.com/en/photo/1232581
On the Line
Some days are cleansing days
I’m not sure what that means
I have a simpler breakfast
Coffee and dry toast,
I spread out around the computer
Ignore the phone (caller i-d keeps watch,
anyway)
Eat and drink and write
I’m tired enough
Though not so much
It’s a kind of litany with the elements
A collaboration with nature, God the
Maker,
And with me
Not trusting self but
Finding faith with (the) others
Gee, it’s Monday
I think the Earth hates Mondays
Sometimes (some days) I rather loathe them, too
But it’s a start-up day for the week
And that’s all right
Taking some time to prepare
A breath before the face goes underwater
The shock of cold, the return of light
When breaking through
One way or the other
Let’s see what happens
C L Couch
(by and at) https://plentysweetlife.wordpress.com/2016/07/05/sheets-on-the-clothesline/
Fine Day
After many tries, I’ve found
A cup that right for soup
Shiny with a handle the right size for
The skin between my knuckles
Black, not so heavy, portable
Hot from the microwave
A Prufrock thing, perhaps
I handle the part thing in my hair
But not having so much of one
And I’ve dared to eat the peach,
Preferring clementines
Nothing much
Which is the point
We meet the God of the universe
Through an open orange pit
And stirring a galaxy in coffee
I think Julian might approve
C L Couch
https://pxhere.com/fr/photo/165696
clcouch123 
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