golden late-sun tree
Earth regardless tilts away
climate change stalls fall
c l couch
(next I’ll be writing about how cold it’s gotten)
photo by Conor Luddy on Unsplash
[haiku]
winter skimming late
mysteries in melting ice
slush punctuates
c l couch
photo by Matthew Fassnacht on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
Illusion or Reality
x
Do we know illusion
The things out of the corners
Of our eyes
I see my cat
From time to time
x
But an actual illusion
Actual
Something we sense
That isn’t there
It might shape
For our senses
But really
Is a thinking
And misthinking
Of our minds
And hearts
Misallied
In the moment
Or maybe all the time
x
Have we seen some things
That are not there
How does this match
With illusions
In our attitudes
Beliefs
And minds toward things
x
The illusion is for fun
Mismanaging our thoughts
Is something else
x
And now reality
Which is something
As it is
Material
No argument
About it
x
The rock is real
Our eyesight
When it’s measured
The Earth is real
When we stand upon it
x
Yet there’s the question
Real or illusive
Do we have the handle
Are we confident
With our machines
Even machine
Logic
x
In a relativistic age
It’s hard
Sometimes
To tell
Though it’s our invention
For an age
To twist ourselves
Maybe by people
Who make money from it
Or harbor an illusion
(hah)
For power
An abstract
Made of will
Always another
Added to our own
x
We could be superheroes
Cape or helmet
But then
That is illusion
For
Yes
Our entertainment
Though there is inspiration
Too
In these images
And faultless actions
x
Hmm
A reason for illusion
To prop up
Even to help direct
Reality
Remove the versus
Then
Consider
Allied with
Even for fuller comprehension
Even for fuller life
x
In the air
Through the barriers
Who is that
It’s us
x
x
something for Friday
something pre-Hallowe’en
for when you are
we are
midnight persons
x
and now
something about midnight
x
x
Late at Night, You Know
x
Midnight
It isn’t really midnight
Three o’clock is midnight
Which might be why
He had bad things happen
At 3:15
x
Midnight for stories
Nonetheless
And a witching hour
Whose story we might not
Really know
What were the practices
Done in an hour
If that
Or more
Or longer
x
Midnight and shadows
Where are the shadows
In the night
Well
With the moonlight
Or our
Artificial arrangements
Against total darkness
‘til the dawn
x
So there are shadows
There are shapes as well
Of new dimensions
Taller
Without features
For a face
x
Except we know that one is there
Something devilish
Autonomic
Human
Is there
And we shall know too late
If there’s identity
After the action
Or is stands there
A small tower
Over us
‘Til we have the fortitude
To move away
x
Shall there be ghosts
And shall there be story
For us to set down
Until dawn
Or share from what we know
And what we don’t
For comfort
Or for titillation
Until dawn
x
We should remain
Keep our souls inside
It might be just a story
Or a real thing
Inside
x
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Nika Benedictova on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Late Human Summer
x
The alphabet of storms
Goes on
Blows on
When the alphabet is done
I wonder
If we add prime marks
To letters
Going back to A again
(with prime)
x
The sun is out
We’re getting a heatwave
Because we’re bad
No
Only because
(the only reason is because
though
yes
as a species
we may take blame
for vicissitudes
in climate)
x
Other things have happened
In the night
The hours between day and day
I enjoyed the company of
Friends
And so was lucky
x
I was not on either side
Of war
There was no explosion
Not even verbal
‘Cause we like each other
And otherwise would disrupt
The ritual
Like dropping wine
Or leaving bread crumbs out
In Communion
x
Not that things don’t happen
‘Cause they do
I get The Daily News
And should read to know
Who has killed whom
In shockingly
Petty ways
That had treated victims
As sponges
Softly receiving weapon plunges
Or shots
Sometimes by ghost guns
Now that we have
Ghosts for guns
x
But I’ve only been up
For a while
And haven’t been in touch
With the world
Which will change soon
Or I could take the day off
From the rest
Of us
Except for you
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Arno Senoner on Unsplash
x
Lamentation
God,
I glean the earth, it seems
Looking for seeds and other parts of plants
The farmers and the birds
Have missed
It is late autumn, and I
Wonder what is mine
What I deserve, if
Even these upon the ground
That two tries
Wouldn’t take
C L Couch
Photo by Dave Francis on Unsplash
Turning Time
It’s late in October, isn’t it
The season soon enough will be half over
No other season calls to itself so much
In northern parts at least, everything to say
We’re done for now
Cover us and let us rest
Autumnal residents
October people
C L Couch
Vincent van Gogh – Les Alyscamps: Falling Autumn Leaves 1888
Liftoff
Late
I’m driving home,
High-beams
Looking out for
Deer whom I
Might then drive
Around
Yellow center
Lines with white
On either side,
Bushes and trees
Farther off still
Line the road,
Marching back
In layers of green
And black that
Make up the
Horizon, too,
Which I see in
Front of me
Then—I hadn’t
Thought of
This—the moon
Rises in my
Direction (that is,
The way I’m
Going) behind
Dark verdure
Rows
Half-disc bright
Red-orange
Startling the
Sleepy countryside
Into becoming,
As if in an
Astral spell, a
Rising plain of
Backlit silhouettes
Sentinel at night
Ascends like
An ancient mother
Ship leaving
The quiet earth
Where it has
Hid, now taking
Its watchkeepers
Home;
Maybe, too,
A matriarchal
Ark as well, bearing
DNA of flora
And fauna,
Gene-tracings
In chromosomes
Of mitochondria
Lifting all toward
Freedom of
The Earth, carrying
Our errant
Molecules through
To what we say
Is outer space:
Passing other
Spheres of cosmic
Condensation,
Asteroids and
Planetoids and
More substantial
Yet nascent
Un-wakened
Denizens of
Rock and fire
Cradles for
Star-making,
Entering nebulae,
The vessel-charge
At last and
With a knowing
Satellite’s prophetic
Discretion,
Diffuses organic
Atoms inside
Entropy-laden
Stellar capacity,
Static potential
Wanting alien
Life
To incite and
Render systems
Viable for carbon
Habitation;
And so
Our lives together
Evolve into
The future of
World-making
clcouch123 
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