the day you were born
according to the calendar
and I’ve checked
it more
than once
I was a Thursday child
and so had far
to go
which is a mystery at
least
to me
for
don’t we all have far to go
to get somewhere
in life and maybe
afterlife
in face
that after this is done
does not the distance unfold
grandly
for each one
and
all
so what is far to go
maybe
far to go for satisfaction
for fullness
in breathing and work
(the
work of breathing)
or
maybe for
philosophy to gain and so to carry
through
the trials of thought and feeling
faced in the world
wondrous
fallen
virtuous
Calvinistically depraved
pursuit beyond a declaration
for a nation
or
to help secure it for others
affirm at least when
despotry breaks in
then
attempting to persist
so maybe it is
freedom
and the distance we all have to go
in
service to others
and ourselves
in that
somewhere is far to go
at any rate
metaphor for what’s ahead
and
an assurance that little will happen toward
instant completion
loving and giving
for
Friday’s child
so says
the rhyme
loving and giving as if
starting qualities and to
sustain through
live
and to go for everything that’s needed
to keep going in this way
through
all the time and all phenomena
that happen
requiring
a bounty
I should think of
faith
and confidence
to have the wherewithal for these
and to secure the job
that funds the giving
and
might fortify the loving
so
where should Friday be if not
in a good place and
with resources
all
the time
so who loves and gives in Ukraine
just now or
Gaza
or pick a torn-up
place where one is likely to lose all
and
have to flee
get wounds bound up
also
to deal with loss of health
and companionship
of
family
as well as neighborhood and one’s identity
not only of the circles as
they Venn
but of the single
self
that comes at the beginning and then
knows the joining with the rest
somehow
I think
Bonhoeffer
managed loving and giving through
the rise
the war
the horrors
and the sacrifice of
life
like the prayer of thanks
not
to be a guard
and more so for the pastor’s life
to give it
in the camp so that another
person
live
and so the living and the giving
the worst in the world
plus
the best in spirit
and so
in surfeit or in want
the capacities
for each to
live
as Friday
c l couch
Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a German pastor and theologian who was imprisoned and killed in World War 2
photograph by Jon Tyson at Unsplash
VIA SACRA
2 poems about the day
Fish Fry
(check the shape of stanza'd, ichthus undulation)
Friday
Fry day
Fish fry day
At the Catholic church
For penance
I suppose
Though the is
So much
One can’t complain
Of abstemious devotion
And the money
Should go somewhere
Good
And we Protestants
Can enjoy that
Too
Should we think on it
While crunching into fish with
Whatever else
Is
Provided
Yay
Catholics
Thank you for
This weekend treat
You all
Have
A great weekend
Too
After all the cooking
(the worry over getting
burned
while frying)
And all the cleaning
That frankly
We did not
Have to do
Though when it’s our turn with
A rummage sale
We’ll clean up
Afterward
For you
Thirteen O’Phobia
Today is Friday
A thirteenth
Sorry to
Triskaidekaphobes
Watch out
Black cats
They’ll be avoiding you
Which now I think it
Might be the quite suitable
Arrangement
And ladders
Mirrors
Sidewalk
Cracks
Salt containers
All the things that make
This day less
Amenable
And it’s the number
Generally
As well
The lack of such in buildings
Even
Now
And what was it
Crucifixion on a Friday
Or the barbaric
Gory dissolution of the Templars
On a Friday
Thirteenth
Early in the fourteenth century
(1307
look
another thirteen)
And Judas killed himself
Maybe on that
Friday
Being the thirteenth disciple
(once removed)
In some lore
But for me
And maybe I should apologize
I often
Find
The day goes very well
Which might be
Determination
Or
Luck
Half-Irish luck
For my mother’s family
While on my father’s
Side
There are the English
Who most likely
Do not care
About the day and
Date
As long as the flag is flying
Somewhere in a
Time zone
Over Earth
C L Couch
(9/13/2024)
Photo by Zoltan Tasi on Unsplash
Matthias, Paul, Judas—who is the thirteenth disciple/Apostle? (Rhetorical question--depends on whose tradition's answering.)
A Little Prophecy for Friday
(any day—and I hope it’s good for you)
When everyone had
Gathered
In whatever room
Maybe
A second-story place
When he appeared
The first thing Jesus said was
“Peace”
A signal for the resurrection
Maybe
That now a time of resolution is
At hand
That reconciliation is
The way of things
And that
of course
Is what has happened
In that
The way of Earth has changed
Or
Rather it is on its way toward
Being finished
And peace is the new order
Any victory
Through peace
Peaceful understanding
Peaceful
Action
We may announce
Maybe in a Pentecost-al way
(with red
balloons and
such
all environmentally
worked
out)
That a new order is at hand
That
Sorry
Isn’t new
(no merchandising
on it)
The joy that was in Genesis
Unending
Without flaw
Is at hand
And all for us
And God
And God with us
And if the cosmos has
Fallen
With us
Then
All material
And who knows
Maybe issues
Will have their first
Finality
As well
C L Couch
John 20:19
Photo by Ronald Cuyan on Unsplash
a dragon’s invitation to come out to play, plus there’s a prayer for Friday (any day)
Behind Me through the Window on a Rainy Day
I hear hissing
Outside
Tires on the wet street
No
A dragon
Skulking
Hunting
Hissing
Come out
Tiny humans
To play
I have some games
For you
Come up on my back
Between my wings
I’ll give you rides
Come out
I need breakfast
I mean
I need companionship
For play
You haven’t seen or heard
Such as me
Have you
Come closer
Then
Leave your chores
We’ll have fun
I know I will
And so should you
With me
Long and tall
And armored all
In green
Wouldn’t you like to touch
Come closer
Then
Come closer
Don’t mind the claws
Or teeth
Though you should
Look
Into my eyes
We’ll fly
And then return
No more than an hour
You trust the word
Of dragons
Don’t you
Then come out
Hey, There
(we say hey in Kentucky)
Hi
God
To be familiar
With the
Lord and majesty
Of all
But
Anyway
It’s Friday
How are you
I mean today
Is Friday
I think you know
My name
And I am wondering
(to pray)
If I could have
A dull and normal
Life
Just now
And for a while
For I could fill it on my own
With toys
Ideas
And things
And let the noise outside
Be mine
When I got out
To play
Or simply for a stretch
Because I really am
Working inside
This all takes hours
To do
And I could use the normal world
Suburban world
Dull world
To be itself for a while
So I could work
Create
In fact
To fill in all the spaces
That the boring leaves between
All normal acts
And spaces
And what about the wars
So far away
And outbreaks of disease
Where care is
Thin
And even water
Is a treasure
That is brokered
By the already wealthy
Or left ignored
Running thin
And questionable
In its own
Chemistry
While the war
I’m lucky
Must be somewhere else
I have not been shot
Though there have been
Carwrecks
To which the yelling world
Says
So what
Here
There is the wounding
And the dying
And the destruction
Of whole towns
That might as well
Slide into
The maw of hell
Where
They shall be living
Upon the surface
Of a desolate
A pitted
Earth
And there are other things
Such as
Nature going mad
And I’ve missed most of that
As well
Though in ‘96
There was that snowstorm
Closed the roads
For days
But I was inside
Where there was power
Food
Enough space to work
Even if the resting
Went uneasily
Until resumption of
An open world
For me
And mine
So I am lucky
How things miss me
How I was born
Into a quiet state
And have
Stayed that way
Through my life
Lucky
For the scars I have
From heart attacks
And other scares
All right
The trauma
Even the PTSD
Diagnosed
But still
My neighborhood
Is not entrenched
Except
For politics
While explosion are a
Matter of the traffic light
Outside
And the floods have not moved
Through
Except for hate of difference
Suspicion
Of our neighbors
That in this era
We do not reach out
So much
To know
And you live differently
And I hope well
And better
And could the world be better
If war and nature
Could be easy
Nonexistent
Even
Except for strategies
In rhetoric
Winning our arguments
Alone
C L Couch
Photo by Laith Abushaar on Unsplash
fish Friday
it’s a gray day
should it get darker
it will look more
than
a fish Friday
in Lent
we’ll hear the silence
the press
of what
will feel more
the smell of storm
for now
the taste
of dry moments
is it a desert
underneath the gray
a world
we will not recognize
has only
death to offer
after all rewards
of Earth
and us
a plane
that has no feature
(worse than deserts)
no signals
no direction
anything
to show a way
to make sense of
any steps
we might try to take
while on this
measureless
level
that might not be level
for
we could be upside-down
or inside-out
then wake up
to Friday
and it’s Lent
the season still
a still
season
have the fish
go to church
whatever
make it count
whatever
listen
watch
and learn
our faith
and our existence
might rely
on these
here
there are
symbols and signs
arrows
stones in a line
weights
to appreciate
and even try to carry
in a season
one walked this way
and every step
a burden
smoothed
wickedly
by sweat
and blood
we’re on our knees
we also
try to walk
that way
the steps now dried
through ages
wearing
ritual
the chance for meaning
or indifference
our choice
like the choice
for faith
Friday
Lent
and the other days
without fat or sugar
or without
tradition
make tradition
with the faith that is forever
that unchanges for
our ages
mutable
and
so very
needful
c l couch
photo by James Coleman on Unsplash
[photographer’s caption follows]
I took this on the 22nd of April 2019, on the day I heard of the bombing of 3 churches on Easter Day in Sri Lanka. Jesus weeps with you.
(2 poems for the weekend)
Man’s Search for Meaning
nah
I simply cannot
come up with
what
to say
it’s Friday
named for Freya
I believe
to go with
Thor
from yesterday
I hope
you have
a pleasant weekend
fecund
(Freya would go
for this)
and with delight
without the mischief
Loki would rather
sponsor
enjoy the days
and look forward
to more
which is how
I think
we have to live
as we can
today
with an on-the-side assurance
of tomorrow
like at a restaurant
asking for
assurance on the side
you know
how figures
and metaphors
must go
as we need them for our work
our rhetoric
discourse
and persuasion
speak to
the birth of a nation
the death of gin
(for a time)
the resurrection
of our booze
(after)
say we are
a patchwork
I remember
melting pot
from school
though don’t hear it
so much
in these
so-called
grownup days
so it’s the weekend
two days to play
for those
who may
yes
chores
too
we know
running errands
and for some
there’s running
too
if you want to think
there could be time to think
though let play
and rest
be timely
too
as they are vital
literally serving life
in
all
Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl
Golde and Tevye
only a little more prosperous
so I could buy the small appliance
when I see it
or trade with less anxiety
for a car
or buy clothes to wear
for comfort more than look
though comfort
requires cost
as well
anything else
well
a less hovel-like place to live
with enough space
to keep me
without doubt
un-claustrophobic
paying for a class
now and then
so I might get better at this
and other things
and there’s fresh food for cooking
like a marketplace experience
most days
though now I’m getting crazy
over riches
I am sure
but
there it is
the kinds of things I want
or want to have
within reach
C L Couch
Photo by NASA Hubble Space Telescope on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
but choose any day
x
and it’s Friday
how are you
really well
I hope
(well and more
that is)
here the sun’s out
and it’s cool
the best of both
heat and cold
for a while
and when it changes
as it must
the sun and sky
wind and air
decide
choose any day
there are its merits
good parts
that don’t need the bad
for understanding
but take us through
until we’re back
to just
or mostly
good for a while
x
the bugs
prefer the sun
when it’s gray
they tend to stay away
meaning
I think
that sometimes bugs are smart
and I mean to say
they might augur
how we might be
today
and further equipped
depending on
and if
we read the signs
x
new days
should follow
and I hope this one
knows you well
or gets you better
with its attributes
and gifts
some might say
miracle and grace
I’ll say that
for you
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Mikhail Vasilyev on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Panic of 1819
(and probably in ancient Rome and every Friday since)
x
I don’t have it yet
It’s Friday
I don’t have it
x
In a suburban way,
I want
To have earned the weekend
x
Bad night last night
Today’s not much better
Except I’m awake
If duly
And can
More practically
Resort
To caffeine, should I wish
x
But there is
Something better
I am sure
Something to find my spirit
In the rut
If not a hole
And pull me through
x
It’s feelings
It’s truncated thoughts
And more
A weight of sin
Perhaps
Though don’t we bear that
Every day?
x
Well,
Design
And draft away
And with a shape
Construct
A frame
Add more materials
For texture
And color as that matters much
On Earth
x
And get it done
For presentation
Monday
By five
Or six
Or seven
Then find our friends
Beside what we call
Colloquially
The watering hole
That other creatures need
The literal
More direly
x
But let’s go in
And break
Exhale
Find solace
Even in this world
In trust
x
Or
You know
We could go home
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Daniel Gregoire on Unsplash
x
curated in “Friday clouds”; looking like mountains—Friday mountains?—with the moon an evening invitation
x
(x = space)
x
x
Gestation
x
I don’t know
It’s Friday
It’s raining
We need the rain
The clouds have little texture
At least from here
x
Nothing much to look at
A wet street
Spatter on the windows
We need the rain
x
There is war
In Ukraine
More death today
More wounded
And in Sudan
We’re drawing up our diplomats
Telling tourists
To go home
Choose another
(for now)
x
We know there’s trafficking
Where
Here
Of drugs
Of people
Contraband things that
Otherwise
Could be all right
x
But you know
People
Never people
Sold
Which means someone is
Buying
Where
Here
x
Struggles for freedom’s
Hard enough
On good days in
(relative)
Safe places
x
And they
The captured
Kidnapped
Bought and sold
Are not all
But tend to be
Children
Women
Who
We know
Struggle for freedom
Already
Hard enough
More than should be
Enough
x
On Friday I could cry
But the sky
Provides
As if behooving
I could say
Nature weeps for me
As in
Instead of me
And that
Nature weeps for all of us
In distress
But it is nature’s
Well
Nature
x
That’s all
And that’s enough
The rain
Provides
Other good things
x
But I’m thinking now
There should be
Laws
For freedom
To work within one’s
Bearing
Bearing
Who we are
What can we do
x
And freedom of our bodes
Politic
Personal
That many of us
Think we have
x
Let’s check the laws of nature
And our charters
I think it’s there
Many
Freedoms
Already
There
Officially
And by
Who made rain
x
We may read wet leaves
Or our own pages
Fearfully
Consider
Wonderfully made
And what
To do
With what and whom
When made
When with accountability
Co-making
x
Rain
Tears
Freedoms
Fridays
Notions
Not like the old
Department-store
Departments
(but) Full-blown
Like glass
Full-grown
Into ideas
x
We do
Need these
A good weekend
Please
For you
You deserve it
It’s deserved
x
Does rain mean freedom
I don’t think so
Sometimes
It’s relaxing to watch
To hear
Sometimes
It’s fearful
The median response
Might have something to do
With inconvenience
Maybe this is part
Part Friday
Too
Of freedom
x
C L Couch
x
x
Psalm 139:14
x
Photo by Sharon Pittaway on Unsplash
x
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