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the learning day

(three poems)

the learning day

it’s Monday
how many at this
we
might have
and pale
gray
how many of these

days
with this lack of color that for décor
might be all right
but
don’t we need the green and blue
and the myriad of flora and fauna
hues
and with the gray

and I suppose the panoply is
here
it’s only muted
maybe to tell us that some days
some hours
or
many moments we should
pad our expressions
instead
to listen

as we do better to receive
prudent and wise
when
the color like the noise we choose
learns and employs
quiet

ride
(leave out asterisks and asterisked if posting)

and
goodness
must there be a point*
and
could I let the beauty go
released
wildly
without the moralizing
yet still in beauty
of
the Earth and sky be
moral

sure
as in relax
and ride

like that moment in the ride
when the center
goes to gallop
still
boisterous the relationship
but smooth
to go
together

and let that be aesthetic
in blurred motion
and
delight
so fast it’s undefined

*(my way through graduate school)

the damage has a name

citing on
TV
the Ausin Toy Museum
old things in good shape
and
I’m hearing
and looking now and then
at what show
not
to hold the silence valueless
but to draw toward contemplation
while
the noise in my head painfully challenges
all
pacific activities and
notions inside

rather
my daily invitation to go crazy
and have
and fail
at background for distraction

c l couch

so I wrote a bunch of things and might post the later two, maybe three

they are overridden with first person, though maybe in the gaps (mind the gap) you shall fill in your own persona and experience (which I guess is how we read first person lines, anyway, as in Shall I compare thee to?)
a little hermeneutics for free (and belying the second post)

I left things as-is by the time of revision and a polish as a try for an edit—except line-spacing by WordPress, remains

photo by NIR HIMI on Unsplash
Iceland
(the ocean looks like Escher or the Escher looks like ocean)

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the patch of blue

the patch of blue

while
I was driving and I guess the clouds were breaking up
if
only for a while and in the middle
well
I saw it

pale
set against the gray
and ringed by
white

all
uncertain ‘round the edges

as the afternoon became
a thoughtful
season

c l couch


photo by Zoshua Colah on Unsplash

0

anymore

anymore
3 July 1863

the heat of July in southern Pennsylvania

it’s hotter now
these days
but a hundred fifty years ago and more
then
inside uniforms bearing
supplies and heavy guns
and
two days fighting even
to serve on the winning side and then a final
charge
to determine victory
then the march on Harrisburg
to end the war

and
the cannons fired too soon if like the rebel yell
but
too early over the field
then following orders though the noise
had cleared
the damage done with time
to reassemble
the smoke gone and

regardless
came the charge

over a flat place with little cover
and
stopping wasn’t ordered
anyway

and the soldiers
with their leaders were
cur
down
Hood shot down and
only some made it
to the stone wall of the enemy
and
were killed
there

and Lee called up Pickett to sort his army
for more fighting
to which
Picket proclaims with anger in his blood
and grief for loss
to Lee that there was no army of his leading
anymore that
day

the charges lay on the field
free in the worst way
from
any earthly order
anymore

clc


photo by Johnny Kaufman on Unsplash
“Roadside Sunset”
Gettysburg, PA, USA

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how the day begins and ends

how the day begins and ends


It’s a dark-gray day
there are green and brown to see
the sky scoured of blue


hear and see my friends
share a meal of smell and taste
touch the hours away


c l couch


photo by Mahdi Bafande on Unsplash

0

old gray

old gray

1
nothing
in my eccentricity
like
old gray stone

we have some fences around
here
a few are nice
while most are overgrown

there are some buildings
too
that stand

the association for me
is
with ghosts
of those who set
or
raised whichever and
the story
with the persons who are lost
maybe
in wars between the states
or
the war with England for first freedom

and
there’s what
to keep out
what
to keep in

speaking of first and
who
was here

and to extend the poet
classic and ironic meanings
it might have been
true and
could
still be that

good fences make good neighbors

so then
stone fences make stone
neighbors

2
texture
moss
what is fallen
what remains of what
has
fallen and what
keeps the form and
stands
for meaning

living metaphor for
boundary
for
protection
that could yet
be actual
for a building made with local
material
and that we mean to keep
and
to repair

and it’s the fences we have more of
in
all states and they are old
and some look pushed together while others
forgotten or
ignored
or someone owning
likes
the fallen texture
lopped shapes
even the worked through parts
made low
through
time
and unknown circumstances

they make good pictures
I believe
photographed
or
painted or fashioned with material
of one’s own

color
black and white
what
is decided
what’s at hand

or if we may
to
go there
smell
touch the long sides or
where they’re broken
touch
the nubs and
feel
the age
the stories

and I will make up stories of and
for
the ghosts there or
nearby

to have a story by my
home fire and
maybe an invitation for a hearing
by yours

3
the buildings and the fences
and
especially the fences
to drive by
as
the buildings are kept mostly at
a distance

but all
appreciable and made when
words
like
middlesex meant
something for a status and
a name

and the word we know
from
another poem

later Gettysburg close
about which
so
much has been said and sung and on
which
to borrow from a third so much depends

though
these are matters
upright or collapsed
like
dreams and
visions
we forget
to tell
the next ones on the way
the next ones
here

c l couch


Frost on fences, also Longfellow and William Carlos Williams

with another note by me
       an unintentional study
       even a reverie
       though
       I could have meant that
       briefly

photo by Richard R on Unsplash

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break

break

the sun breaks up
the gray
which I think is good
at
least when the gray is pale and blanketing
without interesting texture
from lines of
clouds
maybe of promises of needful rain

c l couch


photo by Arno Senoner on Unsplash

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two windows

two windows

the day has turned
a little gray
and the way I saw two windows lined
in the brick house across the street
got
me thinking about school

and how when I was in
it didn’t hurt
to be
looking out
well
until caught at it

nonetheless where
the colors
were not made of paper or the time
of paper
either

but promise that we’ll get
to go
even if uncertain where
I should be going freely and so
learned to keep
a sense
and wish
for
freedom

hmm
and now the day is gold again

c l couch


photo by Waldemar Brandt on Unsplash
A little yellow house in the fishing town Büsum, North Sea.
the building across the street is red brick, but I like this photograph

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wet day unterrible outside

wet day unterrible outside

the dropping points of willow green
drip into gray
rendering the name of tree
worthwhile
a good name if metaphor
if anthropomorphizing
making
people out of trees
not by Ovid’s recollection
working
rather by our skill at changing
the tree into person
not the sap
but
tears that weep

the willow is Old Man
the trees throw apples
‘cause
they’re cross with the travelers to
Oz

and so in our wonderlands
we make more
of what we sense
from
ordinary
so that there’s more insightful
and triumphant
to wonder in
the land

if
crying
angry natures
to encounter

c l couch


(us from fatherland, more often motherland)

photo by S L on Unsplash

1

barely green out there


barely green out there
gray like an expectation
transition era

c l couch


photo by Caleb Wright on Unsplash

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