Not Our Town
I don’t think
You think of it
The problems that you cause
That what’s your fault
It isn’t mine
And mine
Does not belong to you
We go the way
Of the world
So to say
Noise for noise
Anger for anger
What’s the end
Some kind of disaster
Unclimaxed
Which would be real
Lack of material
Resolution
One of us withdraws
As in leaves
The other lets it
Without
Resolution
Because it seems
We can do no better
In the world
Not in Gaza
Which is hardly fair
For comparison
Not in
Nothing like
Mister Wilder’s
Or
Our town
C L Couch
Photo by Monica Bourgeau on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
The Day before Tomorrow
x
Last day in Advent
Made it
Whew
Rain, snow
Overwhelming cold
We should be postal carriers
To endure
It all
Strange meeting place
This junction of
The Northeast, MidAtlantic
The weather comes
From north or south
Or east or west
I’m trying
To get used to that
It’s only taken
Twenty years so far
There are forecasts
But better to wait
To know what happens
Though encounter
x
How to plan a picnic
Must be an undertaking,
Strategy
Requiring options
(bring the ants)
Sometimes the living
Is absurd
If not cartoonish
But these are the days we have
And the environs
Those who stayed
Or passed back through
Appalachia
To stay
x
And all the world has
Its places
Its challenges
Its practices
x
And now (among
the practices)
It’s Christmas Eve
And there are days in Hanukkah
This year correlating
Come
To light our way
The world could breathe easier
Except in Ukraine
In Myanmar and Yemen,
Oppressive parts of China
And of Russia
And in the manipulative
Shadowed corners
Of the USA
All the places where we watch
For detonation
Also the human heart
The battlefield it remains
x
Sin and virtue
Pounding and pushing
Pulling circulation
Strain
(Sturm and Drang),
The devils on the inside
On the outside
Rendering Christmastide
So perilous
x
And yet we sing into
A night
We wish were silent
Save for children’s cries
For all the reasons
Children cry
Among them to receive
First oxygen and hope
Into the world
x
Render the night
Impossible in virtue
We’ll sing it,
Anyway
We’ll kneel
We’ll try to light our way
We’ll quietly acknowledge
Neighbors
Some will party
And some will do nothing,
I suppose
Though the world is affected
By what we do this night
And for a thousand years
And in the time
Remember birth and
Death
And everything
That circulates a world
Keeps it moving
In the spirit
In the flesh
x
Though maybe for an hour
Let all mortal flesh
Keep silent
And in fear and trembling
Stand
To receive
To hope for blessing
In the night
x
Let fighter planes
Fly so carefully
Perforce keep watch
Like shepherds
Over continents
And there might be songs
At crowded borders
And the lines
Kept distant
From welcome
Because mines have barred the way
x
Peace on Earth
The ersatz wish
Some must believe
(yet some must believe),
Withholding war
The practice
That must be enough
For now
x
Into the world
The child comes
The children come
And everyone
And everything
Now have responsibilities
To keep it together,
To throw
And try to seal patches
The worn places
And to keep watch
For the tearing places
On the outside of Earth
And, you know,
On the inside
Heaven
And hell
The human heart
x
Anxieties may end
Because it’s here
Our plans are done
And in place as they are
Out of necessity
Of time
As chronos
So might we have
Christmas
For a day
Twelve years
Perhaps a brief era
If only hours
x
A spiritual time
A cultural invention
Arms reach out for a change
Hand in hand
In brave hope
To sing a silent night
To sing in glory
Once the vigil is completed
And there is indeed
There really is
A dawn of hope
x
Glory and hope
Amazing
Because a child is born
That for a time
Affects the government
In minds
As well as capitals
Until when all time is done
And in a kairos of eternity
It’s Christmas day
And all the other graceful days
Together
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Monisha Selvakumar on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Puritan Winter
x
Snow covers
Rain reveals
Ice seals it all in
Now comes the
Revealing time,
The winter
Against all our
Boasted showings
The green is gone
The brown and black reveal
Who we are
What we have
How plain it can become
Without verdant protection
Without the sheen
Of summer
x
But this is good
We have the chance
To be ourselves,
To rely ourselves
On heat
And goodness from above
Below
The goodness of our neighbors
And the sovereignty
Of God above
Below
Wherever is
Creating
And the mortal need
x
C L Couch
x
x
Migrating birds over the misty forests of Norway.
Photo by Fredrik Solli Wandem on Unsplash
x
Unrelative Truthing
Even in dim pre-dawn light
On a Sunday morning,
The colors are clear
Finally, it’s fall
The leaves are turning into glory
And should one think there is a subtext
About the beauty of all races
Well, that’s not really there
But, now I think of it,
Why not
There is beauty in all races
No need to place that truth under
Something else
Now, fall’s late arrival
Something of a pattern
Might also beg
The warming of the planet
Let’s go with that one, too
It’s not progress to have that understanding
(though another kind of progress is the cost)
It’s the kind of sense
The ancients have employed
Coffee’s ready
Time to get it
I am thankful
I hope your day is good
And for your neighbor
C L Couch
West Virginia Fall Colors
(at) http://www.lanephotoworkshops.com/portfolio/landscapes/fall-colors/
Walls
A depiction of a death
So that insurance might be sold
That’s all right: I appreciate
Investment in exigency
But in the advertisement,
A door is shut with the grey world outside
The small things of home within
As if the employment of the product will
Close off death itself
For a time, at least
What are we protecting, then?
I hope it’s home
And not mortality
We can’t keep it out
It dwells inside
In every room
I don’t recommend the dance of death
A final scene of The Seventh Seal
We don’t have to step out with it
Or nurture it within
But it is reality
(you know)
And isn’t it a wonder
That, if we relent a little,
Death will not have to break through the door
Or turn over everything that’s good
Inside
It will happen nonetheless
And regardless
Our rituals might help
And family life
Give it some time, if there’s time
Comfort each other
Talk about good times
But not cowering on the other sides of walls
Walls at best
Are not for that
Not for shouting down an enemy
On the other side
Do good fences make good neighbors?
When privacy is called for, without doubt
But not for death
Death is not unusual
It does not have to separate
It can bring us over barriers
Home in better ways
C L Couch
Stone Fence
Taken in Harpswell, Maine.
Neighborly
My neighbors have the touch
I don’t
College plate on the car
Bumper stickers back of the van:
Honor students ride here
Gymnast and ball player
Two girls I know
Boys, too
Existential crises don’t rate
Stickers (until maybe they do—
Do you brake for existential crises?)
My place rests in piles
They don’t match
Books have melding themes
No organic particles (the
food stays in the fridge)
But nothing else set right
Aesthetes inattentive
To theory or approach
To dissertation on the better handling
Of things
They do it with unconscious serenity
Of their own way, my
My friends who live original rites
Realized
Small-town perfection
East Main Street
C L Couch
East of Eden
Earthquakes split (6.4,
7.4), volcanoes feared
In a paradisal land that
Has such virtue in
Nature and humanity
Anger of nature, the
Patron’s rightful wrath
For it has been a place
Of crushing empire, too
Or is it in imitations of
The west, of surrendering
Ancient code, ritual, and
Ceremony to impose
New rule of the
Incorporated world
Residents sleeping inside
Comb-shaped cells like
Unfeeling bee-keeping
Perilous excesses in
Manufacturing and energy
Production, making Japan
Truly like the rest
In the wake of nature’s
Lightning crevassing the
Land in whatever form
Is invoked, attitudes
And disposition are not
Enough to take on
Now
Our neighbors need
And though we might
Cry that we’re not able
Or we are too far
No excuse is enough
Our neighbors need
(drafted before an officer was shot
many times in Philadelphia, the
shooter claiming the cause was Islam)
Muslim Tribulation
We live to follow God,
to know the will of God
and continuously prepare
our lives so that we might
follow that sacred purpose
and intent.
There are religious
destroyers everywhere
in every tradition. But those of
us in unreasoned extremes—
these are sadly, specially alight
in the world just now.
We want peace. We believe
most do.
We want to be neighbors and
to welcome those into our
homes. But our hospitality is
challenged now of its
authenticity.
Do you want to be defined by
The remnant cause of woe?
Certainly, you don’t.
And neither do we.
We want our lives of faith
to delight our friends and
all those near us. Please
remember this.
We want to think
and believe
the best as well.
The Dessert that Never Was
a response to a Jacki K prompt
I think my favorite Thanksgiving dessert—and I believe my siblings will concur—is the dessert that never happened. While growing up in Pittsburgh, we had the annual Thanksgiving feast, of course. We also invited over the two women, mother and daughter, who lived next door. They were delightful company (all year), and for Thanksgiving always offered to bring the pumpkin pie.
One year they were late. Late enough to make me wonder if something had happened to the mother who, naturally enough, was on in years. But they both showed up, chagrined and with a story to tell. They had baked the pie, as they had each year, with everything whipped up by them and typically starting in the morning. As the day progressed and with that the pie in the oven, something smelled not right to them. And when they pulled out the pie and looked around their kitchen, they discovered what they forgot to put in the pie.
The pumpkin part.
So they baked another pie and brought it over late. So embarrassed were they, they only brought the good pie over. But I guess we made them feel at ease enough about making a mistake that anybody could make (well, not anybody) that they brought us over later to view a pumpkin pie without the pumpkin. As I recall, it was a round brown mess, sunken into the pie plate.
None of us is in that neighborhood now, and we are scattered some. But in our respective homes we tend to tell that story every year. And, while all of us were at one home and our neighbors continued coming over, we’d tell that story and laugh—together—every shared Thanksgiving day.
(Cue image of empty pie plate.)
C L Couch
for the image, http://www.wanelo.com (from Google Images)
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