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Poetry and Senses (3 poems)

(x = space)

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Poetry and Senses (3 poems)

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Upstart Clay

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God will help us through

By being quiet

Leaving all the noise to us

Except the wind

Maybe the water that descends

To strike the surface

Maybe on the ancient

Mountaintop

That moans

Or the young one that must explode

Or pushing geysers through

The scalding

Earth

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So there

God might be noisy

After all

To take a part in all this

And remind us

Of the presence

And natural participation

Of the maker

And the making

Which is us

Fashioning our noise

Into making something

Too

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The Color Wheel

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There is yellow

There is red

Then blue

There are the colors

In between

Orange

Purple

Green

And there we are

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No white

Or pink carnation

For a crayon

No black to see

Though depending on perspective

Black might be suffuse

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We love our color wheel

Couldn’t get along

To see

Without it

And the colors might turn concepts

To explain

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To touch sometimes

Though there is no distinction

Doing that

To smell the color

Which is to smell the paint

Nothing to hear

Unless the wheel

Be turning

And there is humming from an engine

Or a supplicating gear

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Imagine Earth the wheel

Us the fashioners

How are we doing

Are we colorful

Do we six colors

Bordered

Unattended

Or do we mix and blend

And have a globe

Outstanding

Then when turning

Make a noise

Send a message

To the others

Here we are

Introduce us to yourselves

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Wheels within Wheels

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Wheels within wheels

That had been said

As it’s been invented

With clay

With metal

In the mind

Over centuries

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As a metaphor

Plots within plots

Every smaller

Going out

Ever larger

So that families

And nations

Are affected

Even over thrown

Reinvented

From parts left over

Rounded

And toothed

To have new rhythms

And redesigned

Noise

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Wheels that press

Or parts caught

Inside gears

Or there’s so much pressure

So much lack of space

That something crushes

Unless so difficult itself

Breaks the gear

Breaks the wheel

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And someone

Victor

I suppose

Must rework everything

So that we’re round again

And might make music

This time

As we turn

Through space

And time

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C L Couch

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Photo by Matt Seymour on Unsplash

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Monday’s Children

(x = space)

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Monday’s Children

(coffee then reading, watching, hearing the news)

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It’s a Monday,

Blue and green

It’s Stephen King’s birthday

And tomorrow is the birthday of

Bilbo Baggins

And Frodo Baggins

The anniversary of

The big party underneath the big tree

Thank goodness for

Big trees

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Zendaya won the Emmy for lead actress

(though she is an actor)

On TV this past year

Since it’s a kind of peer review

And a mutual admiration

Society of a

Society I am neither in nor out,

I stay up with these things

Tangentially,

Though I’m glad for her

And her

Accomplishment

She must be well-supported

And did I squeeze a bitter grape just now?

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To all those who accomplish much,

I’m thankful

For those who have helped them,

More so

And for those who accrued

Through

No effort but the virtue of their own,

I am impressed as well as

Pleased, though it’s not about me

And it needn’t be

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Now, I read today that  women make up

Fifty-one percent of my society,

While thirty-one percent are white men

Is this why we’re so

Frightened?

Fear leading to anger

Leading to sin

We burn the crosses, rig elections

Cheat the press to make the case

That we should be in charge

The new majority, by the way,

If we must count

In this fashion

We’ve known for a while will be

Hispanic or Latino,

Going as Latin-x these days

In spite of brimstone efforts

At the border, in the cities

This will happen

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I’m looking forward to the changes

And when the cap is taken off

Am I a traitor to my kind?

No, my kind

Is homo sapiens—

I can say for myself

That pinkish-pale or whatever

My skin is is interesting enough

But the color wheel is vast

And extraordinary (for being

ordinary)

And it is there

Or here—even the color blind

Know the textures change

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We are in this variegated world

In the flora

We are the fauna

We don’t need secret knowledge

Except as an exercise,

And bent has always been

The hiding of agenda

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Join me in the world

All the colors of the senses

(in this way,

synesthetes rule)

Patricians, even partisans

Let go

With everyone, take hold

Of what is good

What is love

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C L Couch

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Photo by Roman Bozhko on Unsplash

The Wheelhouse, Los Angeles, United States

Handlebar Tape at Wheelhouse Coffee

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