Binary Opposition
‘Levendy-‘leven
A children’s number
Yet
Everything too grown-up
Was waiting
For the papers on the tables
To be signed to
End
The awful
Too grown-up
Thing
Eleven eleven
Eleven eleven
And then
The terrible ritual
Was done and we could say
The war
Is over
Over there
Over here
The horror
Of a heart of darkness
Goes back under for
A season
Inside the shell of all the mortals
And the devils
Who let the horror out for
Four years
And now
To reckon all such times
And all such people
Knowing also
Innocent
To serve
Knowing by country
And by honor
And that was nearly all
Except
The names that each one
Might have known
To bear inside the pockets
And the packs
Before
Each battle
And on the field
After
Until games
As in the most harrowing
Of contests
Call
In-free
Come to base
The dark is on
Go home
C L Couch
Photo by Georgi Kalaydzhiev on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
Many and Great
x
I’m sorry
There are other things
Wildfires
Wars
Rising oceans
More than tides
Allow
What nature does
What we do
While the Earth permits
Until it can’t
x
And I’m concerned
With how
I feel
Even mortally
(with room for veniality
as well)
I am one
How many are you?
You seem more to me
As if a company
Resides
Inside your wall of flesh
Behind your eyes
x
And I suppose it’s true
We each might be
Many souls
Maybe carried through
The ages
Or simply facets of
What splits
From our encounters
Here and now
And what remains
Beside our spirits
Mainly
As we become
Like growing jewels
x
When permitted,
Like layers
Added to the pearl
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Susan Wilkinson on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
2 songs
x
x
Song of Innocence
x
If innocence
Means free from guilt
Well, that’s really
Not enough
Innocence must be
Something on its own,
Not the absence
Of anything
Something desirable
A sense of peace
Of grace that we can
Walk with through
The day
x
Substance
Not a reflection or
Wishful thinking
Something that knows
The world, the score
And chooses innocence
Knowing,
Even skeptical or cynical
Strong innocence
Elastic
Durable
That knows the score
Not absence of guilt
The born-with quality
Is fine
But the knowing quality
Is better
x
x
Song of Experience
x
There’s so little
That I’ve done
Enough to hurt some people
To have been used
By people, too
x
Here I am
So tired,
Breathing through
A microphone
A torch song
Emanating
Is that all there is?
x
But it isn’t
I think there’s more
More sufficiency
More grace
More life
x
And if it seems I’m whining
Or whistling through
My teeth
The saddest tune
Well, I’ve been
Around
Some
With so much more
I’ve never known
x
And yet I think
In splinters,
Having this and wanting that
Wishing I’d done that
Wishing I hadn’t
It’s a maddening calculation
At the board
On this side of the gate
x
I hope
The tally’s adequate
Or maybe we could
Toss the numbers
Into the moving water
Dividing worlds
x
x
C L Couch
x
x
Hope Valley, Peak District, UK
x
Psalm 13
a song of experience
Experience in the world has
Wounded and split
Any wholeness that I was
Parts of me are cared for
Parts are not
When I behave
Or when I don’t
I am fed and often
Comforted, even when
I don’t know how to ask
For this
There might be a price
But there are those who
Ask for nothing that
I know of
(Maybe later)
I have age and scars
Sometimes I don’t mind
But some wounds never
Heal, and pain can drive
Me away from everyone else
And you
clcouch123 
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