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2 poems

(x = space)

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2 poems

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at the h. f. clinic

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to the doctor’s well

a doctor type at

the clinic where my

heart failure’s diagnosed

and worked on

blood pressure’s up due

to medication or

some other cause

there’s all the weight from

fluid that is uncomfortable

to feel but since it tends

to kill people by

some kind of drowning I

guess then I should be

grateful and you

know I am

x

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tawny punks

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today is

someone’s day

or something’s

thanks to

greeting cards

or causes that simply

want a day

and get authority

to say okay

x

pizza day

beagle day

greeting card day

with greeting cards

for greeting cards

a day for me

is groundhog day

because there

are no cards

so you can cross

out christmas

or new year’s

or presaged a dismal

valentine’s

and write greetings

from

Punxsutawney

over that

and so practice

spelling

Punxsutawney

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C L Couch

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Photo by Ralph Katieb on Unsplash

Groundhog didn’t like the late April snow (she was in the middle of nest building when it hit).

[photographer’s caption]

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The Heart

(x = space)

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The Heart

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I breathe a little

Saturday morning

Last moments

Before noon

When I would be called upon

For chores

Last free moments

Watching another show

As an excuse

Pretending its significance

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Did I have a heart defect

Back then

We’ll never know

Or was I put to work

Too soon

Or was it the lesson that

Work is bad

And I should only be glad

When it’s done

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Whichever way

I was a child who

Wanted to

Escape

And on rainy days

I sat in a chair next to a lamp

In the room saved for

Official company

And rather than

All that

I took the quiet

And went into books

With

Stories that saved

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The mind

The heart

Everything that mattered

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C L Couch

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Photo by Matt Seymour on Unsplash

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The Redness of Alerts

(x = space)

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The Redness of Alerts

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I don’t know what comes next

Another heart attack

Ambulance

Lights without sirens

The sky at a glimpse filled with

Canadian fire smoke

Inside

To a small place

And then a bigger place

And then a bigger place

In which to operation

I dozed

I don’t think they talked to me

That was all for each other

Then I’m back upstairs

And in that second bigger place

I picked at food

I was glad I was allowed

To have ice chips

Then water

Then water itself

(such progress)

All the nitroglycerin meant

Emergency relief for my heart

And a worsening headache

Via the pills and paste

I tried to eat

I will feel rather nauseous

So much blood drawn

And bandages all over

Wires

Machine noises

Through pretty quiet

After all

Nursing staff

Aids

Doctors

Tripartite

And a visitor

Who would take me away

When allowed

I got my orders

Plans for the days to come

New medications

Consultations

It started in the middle of the night

Now three nights later

I am back

There were those who prayed for me

I am grateful

I prayed for me

Too

New parts

New repair work

Like an old car

The aptness of a metaphor

I am fixed

No warrantee

But let’s keep hoping

Shall we

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C L Couch

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Photo by Scott Webb on Unsplash

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sure things

(x = space)

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sure things

x

the child

dressed up as a cowboy

or a football player

dream and irony

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even then

the heart

might be folded badly

not closing right

or opening

for blood and air

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and did I feel it?

ask the child

I’m asking later

I don’t know

no one told me

maybe no one knew

until later

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when the heart attacks

and surgeries

and the device implanted

were and are

sure things in

the older self

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c l couch

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photo by elias maurer on unsplash

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my heart to give

(x = space)

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my heart to give

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my heart to give

lord Jesus

my worn heart

broken, stitched

machined

hardly new

why should Jesus

want it

but he’ll take it

I think

not because

of its condition

or because

he can renew

but because

he is all love

and will not refuse

love given

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after reading “In the Bleak Midwinter” by Christina Rossetti

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C L Couch

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Photo by Marija Zaric on Unsplash x

Missioning

(x = space)

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Missioning

(for Mandy Shunnarah)

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It’s Wednesday

And a hump day

Too many cases breaking out

Al-Qaeda talking up Afghanistan

Fires in California

New Apple phones

Unveiled there

I need shoes

More importantly a place to live

Local friends are helping

And good thoughts

Come from everywhere

Faroff family stands by

I’m eaten up with nerves

They eat me

Consume the calm

Like the noise above

That means I’m leaving

After many years

Too many jobs

That took up all

My energy allotment

Concentration

And my attempts to rest

And now

Semi-retired

Accosted with all that

x

My heart needs fixing up

x

This should not

Be all for me

Too many people

Have revocable need

I pray

Others help

With worldly substance

So much more than I have

But this should not be for me

In what I cannot do

It’s to put out fires

Help first-responders

Let go those

Who have no perspective

Build up health

Yes

It’s true

And I must ask

For all of us

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C L Couch

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Mandy Shunnarah has been writing about skateboarding and skateboarding—forthcoming book, Midwest Shreds: Skaters and Skateparks of Middle America from Belt Publishing (fall 2022).  Hers is a positive, inclusive, encouraging voice.

https://mandyshunnarah.com/

https://www.offthebeatenshelf.com/blog

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Skateboard on Dry Lakebed

Photo by Kelsey Dody on Unsplash

Alvord Desert, Oregon, USA

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Good Signals

(x = space)

x

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Good Signals

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I had the extra headache

Yesterday

Today, eyelids are heavy

(really are)

So with the tranq

That puppy dogs at veterinarians’

Get,

I could stand to sleep

For twelve hours or so

There was the time

When it was so bad

I got taken to the emergency room

At night,

Where I waited a long while

To be told to leave

Without assist

(except to be told to leave)

Six months I had slept

Maybe an hour a night

I was falling apart

Inside,

Which might be the kind of thing

That leads people

To scream in emergency rooms,

Which I didn’t

But didn’t sleep that night,

Either

x

Finally, nothing kept happening

And sometimes

I could get more sleep,

Though it took

 A heart attack to move me forward

With the world

If we wore signs,

Would that make it better?

The signs would have to

Talk as well

Maybe give off scents

And have a taste

So that the senses become

Part of the message

(sending and receiving),

Too

x

Well, I have this day

(clearly, so do you)

The headache band is eased

Somewhat—and one might not believe

That I’m thankful

For all this

If so (if not), maybe it takes

Appreciating the knock on the gate

To be told in silence

Not time yet

And in reaction

Gratitude

For day-to-day mortality

x

C L Couch

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The Grounds of Alexandria, Alexandria, Australia

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Saving Graceland

Saving Graceland

 

 

1, Give It Up

 

And there are the things that happy

Anyway

Bad things, starving things

Taking from life, risking faith

At each turn

We lost someone close

We lose a job

We lose a place

We lose what we thought

Were good associations

We lose something in ourselves

 

We lose some health

We lose materials we think we need

Because we do

And where is belief in this,

Where are you?

You’re here, but we don’t know how

So we give up

Or don’t embrace in the first place

Because there’s honest reason not

To take hold

We might even curse God

Denial

Or the arranging of an adversarial relationship

From then on

We take down faith symbols that were

Totem as well as decoration

No beauty there

In truth,

No more

 

And what’s to bring us back,

To move us on?

We’re grown up, we don’t need you

We only need ourselves

Maybe with like-minded

Maybe not

 

 

2, Restoration

 

I don’t know how each one

Might come back

Or start at all

I mean, there is confession

And repentance,

But what about when no one’s

Done anything that’s wrong?

I don’t mean venial

Considerations

I guess I mean victims

Who comes back from being robbed

Of life,

Of living goodness?

And if there were no faith

But awful things have happened,

How might it begin?

 

A blank slate would be easier

To mark on with good lessons

Or reason through

Someone’s apologetics

That happens, and it needs to happen

But wondering from a point of loss

Of theft

Of trickery

Or manipulation

Then believing again

That everything with truth and beauty

Might return to the mind’s eye

The vibrations of the heart

All the evil stuff to be forgotten

No, that’s not going to happen,

Though there might be mitigation

For a start

 

 

3, Landing

 

A favorite way in stories to rid oneself

Of evil is through laughter

For evil characters often hold

Themselves and what they think they have

Too seriously

An argument of one that must be global

 

Humor, a healthy kind

Even if delivered in exasperation

Cuts through the agenda

Exposes the lack of clothing on

Self-styled emperors

Not that it’s the only way

Or on its own an anodyne

But healthy humor

Like right thinking

Goes a way toward righteous victory

Perhaps in metanoia

 

Though there should come

A sober time for reflection and

Decision

Or (and) simply to feel it through

Faith is funny

Worse, it’s foolish

Even if it shows the way

Turn over folly

To find some wisdom

The way some lies are best understood

Simply in opposite consideration

(take out the “not” or put it in

around each lie)

A different kind of foolishness

Made wise

Toward what we need

And where to have it, here

And on the other side

In certain testimony,

Something about rooms in mansions

 

Finally, though, we must face the hurt

We won’t want to, which is a good

Sign

We’re on the way to something real

Don’t worry about being smart enough

Unless it’s also made aware

How to get smarter

Don’t let your ego, on another hand,

Make choices for you

Finally, you know, it’s faith

It’s choice

It’s a choice we make

It’s the kind of choice that anyone can make

And if you think someone cannot make that

Choice for deficiencies,

God will think this, too,

In God’s way

 

Nothing needed will be withheld

To guarantee the offer

Or the taking

We all can be there in

Graceland, one by one

And all together, starting

The process anytime

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Mahmudul Hasan Shaon on Unsplash

 

Guests

Guests

 

There’s the outer skin

And then a mask underneath

Of pain

Then maybe underneath the skull,

Things aren’t so bad

Now in the heart of things,

It’s different

There pain enters and resides

Deeply,

And we must somehow get inside

Like a fantastic voyage

Plumb the depths

To find a source

Of everything that festers

We can’t laser it out

Even a scalpel wouldn’t serve

We have to go in ourselves,

Live with it for a while

Reside beside the pain

To understand

Its texture and its grooves, and finally

Where to touch it best

To hold it for a while

Try a tug or two

But if we stay and warm it long enough,

Part of it will start to rise

Away

 

C L Couch

 

 

(Fantastic Voyage, a novel by Isaac Asimov)

 

 

Photo by Macavei Alex on Unsplash

 

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