people

Join

(x = space)

Join

The way a building

Comes together

With everything that fastens

Nails

Glue

Screws and bolts

Certain guns and drills

That drive

The music

And a harmony

Until

Complete

I don’t mean

Cathedrals built

To music

Who knows about that

I mean the real noises

We provide

The voices of machines

With our own

Collaborations

Metaphor

Or three-

Dimensional

The houses goes up

The people

Or some others

If it’s a shelter for

Some animals

Live

Inside

There is a game

With fingers playing nicely

That emblemize

A steeple

When inside the church

The people

Join

In building

All good ways

To shelter

All creation

Needing cover

C L Couch

Photo by John Salvino on Unsplash

June 3, 2023 0

Shut the Door

(x = space)

Shut the Door

My neighbors slam their doors

Almost as matters

Of style

I don’t know why these

Concussions

Are the people frustrated?

(¿)They want to send a message

To me

Or to each other

Or the world

That won’t hear or be

Impressed and

Certainly

Won’t

Change?

This is why

I slam the door

(one of these)

Though it’s not my style when

I’m better

Or when maybe

The world hasn’t hit me first

I don’t know

People are weird

I am weird

We so easily turn people in

Our heads into

Things

As if we could transmogrify

In the academy

For turning people into things

And even objects might

Deserve

Some consideration:

Not be burned

For instance

When there’s value

In the form

Or the condition

Or liking

Or an interest in preserving;

But objects by and large

No longer matter

When they used to be

People

And now that we’ve changed them

And now we’ve changed them

We might

And honestly,

Sadly

Certainly will

Use them disposably

Surrender life to

Look the other way

And only

See a thing

Only fit for burning,

Burning

A heat

To match our own

And I have made

So much

From a door slam

(all right,

many slams),

Though I think you know—peer

Person and

Ersatz (peer) magician—what

I mean

C L Couch

Photo by Oumaima Ben Chebtit on Unsplash

May 9, 2023 1

Processionals

(x = space)

take away the confessional and informative emendations and there’s one poem here with endings like certain music selections

Processionals

I think

Often of David

Of a picture

I have seen

Or made up

It’s when the ark

Is brought into

Jerusalem

And it’s a triumph

A kind of victory

And I think of David

Young

(and was he young)

Dancing

Before the ark

Not wearing much

But he’s king

And he arranged all this

And so

The instruments

Let play

And maybe favorites

Follow suit

I see light colors

As if this were a desert scene

Done as a picture

With pastels

You know

I think I figure the hair

On David

From the statue by

Michelangelo

Processions are important

He and they

Had to have one

Because the ark

Would have a home

Forever

Well

At least for generations

(I should

look this up

it might be before

Absalom)

But what do we know

Today is forever

And the

Ark is here

And Jesus came

Into Jerusalem

And a procession

Was needed

And so it was

Arranged

In humility

And somehow awesome

Awful majesty

C L Couch

I worked on this scene before as a draft; I have in mind I didn’t finish it, and this time I did; but if the other work appeared and I forgot, then I apologize for the repetition—CLC

and a bit more (for free)

a coda

David was a shepherd

He was a king

He was loved by God

As either

So are you

Loved by God

For either

Any

Way

Photo by Alberico Bartoccini on Unsplash

(and here’s the lesson should you need one

coda 2

that was D. S.

this is D. C.)

Jesus came

Into Jerusalem

Like the ark

Meaning a triumph

Victory

For a home people

Battling

To keep a promise

And like the ark

Is lost

Defeat

And sacrifice

Through lack of faith

(bad kings—you may

look it up)

And so sacrilege

And a new needed

Promise

Follows

(read the prophets)

For restoration

Of the people

Turns out

It’s Israel

And all of us

Redeemed

Through this

Second coming

Triumph

Then sacrifice

This time as well

And

Cosmically speaking

Greater

All the world

And how far out

On the edge

With destruction

Turned to joy

With all our flaws intact

Until a final resurrection

That will keep

Us and the world

Intact

And better

And forever

Stone not only

Rolled away

But smashed

Here endeth

And look

And listen

Smell

And taste

And touch

This is the start

And we might think we do

But we don’t know

What’s next

April 2, 2023 1

The Givers

(x = space)

The Givers

I need to speak better

With the Lord

And of the Lord

And of a maker’s love

Of nature

And more so

The people

Living in all mysteries

People and mysteries

Of how to number them

In and if

Any propriety

How to count

And within the will acceptable

Of all of us

(three entities)

For us

Receivers of all words

Too much is un-understood

The glass is dark

The ideal

Is on the other side

As are the mysteries

Resolved

But there is the need

The compulsion

To move, anyway

While

We are here

Somehow to invest

In invisible interaction

That is real

In the sense we cannot count

Or measure

Yet bears salvation

A book of hours

Indicates

Yet cannot reveal

As much as, say,

Look or hear into the gentle candle

While we pray

Our rites are fine

Many are elegant

With an aim

Toward dignity

Mixed with an agenda of

Information

Clarity

Through what is revealed

Finally vague

And believed

(by me for one)

Vague evidence for faith

As manifested,

Which is to say

As is

More elegant

(as well)

Is the spirit

In the sky at night

With its own stillness

And its risks

The careful and the wild

Embodied

And presented

In unmoving blue

Maybe with high clouds

That haunt

Or in the storm

That

Threatens

Or attempts to ravage

When released

Land and sea

And us between

The hours we have

Altogether

Organized

Unkempt

The lives we have

With all the unsolved parts

Priests

Religious

(liturgy composers)

Poets

Room for unbelievers

All work

In both realms

Created

Sub-created

And must own

Not in harmony

But harmony

The music of the spheres

We say

With all the mysteries

Set down to solve

And leave or let

Untouched

Unsolved

C L Couch

Photo by Ali Choubin on Unsplash

April 1, 2023 0

Don’t Listen

(x = space)

Don’t Listen

I’m sad is all

And maybe I may say

Who wouldn’t be

It’s raining

There are feet of snow

Out west

And that’s dangerous

In the south

There were tornados in the night

Can you imagine?

Too many don’t have to

You wouldn’t see it

You hear the train

If you can hear

The sounds of what you know

Changed into splinters

Horrifying

You might go dark

Deeper in, that is

Or might be missed

(tornados leap this way)

Or under things

That fell

But living

Needing to be found

And a factory nearby

Exploded of all things

Also last night

And people inside

Sorry

Some were killed

Others hurt

And people missing

While searchers search

Press conferences are held

Because

They have to be

Another factory

Not so far off

Went this way

Some days ago

I don’t think

It’s a conspiracy

But these destructive

And frightening

Severities

Must be taken seriously

Last night’s inferno

Costing

Families

The ones torn up

For good

And those in the community

Losing, too

You see,

The people in this factory

Made candy

Of all things

In fact for decades

And should have been

With all the chocolate offerings

Just in time for Easter

Now associations

Snow-driven winter

Romantic Southern nights

Anticipation of confections

Well,

The fears will have to go somewhere

Coping mechanisms

Mechanized

(as in ready to go)

Let hope

Like grace doctrinally

Abound

So I’m sad

Maybe I don’t know how

To take it in

To breathe vicarious

In addition to my

Own intake

For, well,

My own

Somewhat depressed

I deal in this

And have had counseling

And medication

The day’s been gray

With rain

Not life-threatening here

Persistent

Cold and dull

Is all

And enervating

I thought about errands

And such

Then thought better

Thinking it better

Or maybe better would have been

To go out

Get wet

Do something

C L Couch

Photo by Peter Jan Rijpkema on Unsplash

March 25, 2023 2

On the First Day

(x = space)

On the First Day

Ash Wednesday

Let’s have ash

Upon our foreheads

Crosses that will smudge

And that’s all right

Throughout

The day into

The evening

For the season

We say it’s for remembrance

Of death

And our mortality

But our foreheads are warm

There’s temperature beneath

And all the little crosses

Bearing small,

Smudged,

And living

Testimony

Everywhere

Not bad for evangelism

Contraindicated for a show

Rather a story of

Black, loving humility

C L Couch

Photo by Taylor Flowe on Unsplash

February 21, 2023 6

A Kindness

(x = space)

A Kindness

(Rosa Parks)

Because she was tired

And had enough

Of being tired

And the bus was not a charter

It was public transportation

She paid her money

Not a special fee

There was a seat

And she was tired

And had had enough

Of being tired

The kind of pain

Inside and out

And all she wants to do

It have it

Live it

Normally

The way

Anyone might bear

The pain

Of living

Though especially

The colored people

Colored brown

And paying for it

Without payment

In a place they did not sail to

Like Europeans

Who told the stories

Of their difficulties

Forgetting

(looking away)

About the holds beneath

In which the colored people

Had been pushed

And chained

And many of them

Died

On a journey of abduction

Can you imagine

Starting out this way?

This is their legacy

So let her have the vinyl seat

That she had rented

For a while

Let her have the whole bus

A fleet of buses

Let the people ride for free

And charge admission

For the lighter folk,

Which might began

To pay her back

And all her people

Who had the worse luck

Like the Indians

Already living here

Everyone with un-pale skin

Who met the Europeans

Not me

I wasn’t there

The rejoinder

Fair enough

But you’re here now

We’re here

We’re all here

Now

With small choices

And enormous ones

For how to live a country

Filled with all the colors

Hearts

And minds

And souls

You know,

Sometimes we stand

To let the lady sit

Or someone older

Someone bearing burdens

Or simply to be kind

Call it

Chivalry aside,

We can live this way

Kindly and civilly

Again

And for the first time

Might bring peace

(yes, there will be disgruntled)

On the bus

At the doorways

Going in

And going out

C L Couch

Photo by Peter Orsel on Unsplash

Intersection in the Middle of the Desert

February 4, 2023 4

dispersed

(x = space)

dispersed

(from the beginning of the book of James)

we were together, Mom and Dad

(physical or meaningful)

now we are spread far

we can always say

the Romans did this

but there is our own

polemics

stranding us

separated

in a world driven by

its own prince

that drove Jesus

in the wilderness

from one arid part to another

I’m sorry we are no longer

together

though we have letters

we are the legacy of David, still

we are a people

and, as always,

we are family

I hope you are well where you are

I hope that work and food

come easily

I fear, because I know

such things are never certain

we came away with what we had

some maybe had accounts

and interests along the Mediterranean,

generally

we live today

and in the Messianic time

and must take hope in that

God will return

God also waits for us

like the shepherd by the

clear stream,

both to beckon

and God is with us, now

with love

with love,

this note from your child

we all are children now

again

c l couch

James is a brief letter in the Christian New Testament; the pastor preached on James this morning at Covenant Evangelical Presbyterian Church in West Lafayette, Indiana (USA)

photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

January 15, 2023 0

2 poems about ecumenicity

(x = space)

2 poems about ecumenicity

Many Things to Make

(nothing like a rant but a ramble)

And there are other great traditions, too,

About which I know next

To nothing

Remembering the Gulf War when

Some of us felt ecumenical

And took part in gatherings of Christians,

Jews, and Muslims

Where I got to hear the testimonies

Of the followers of each

And who they were as persons

And believers

There was a young woman

Of Islam

Who articulately smoothly,

Even beautifully

That who knew her better than her parents

With regard for her

And so who better to arrange

A marriage for her?

And I was convinced

And I disagree

And there was beauty in the

Disagreement, too

Doubting that we changed much

Of anything—there

Was still a war, and our young

People left to fight—but

In the moments

Of these hours

There were the points of light

The President then

Had been asking for

Inside the nation

There is so much more

To learn

About my neighbors

In the nation

And the world:

Who are the believers?

What do they believe?

What is the story of their faith?

Might they respect

The disagreements, too,

So that our world

Has a chance

To survive

To prosper

To believe

So that with integrity

We might reach for another world,

Too?

Pray the world lasts

Until we meet upon Megiddo

Not to fight

But have a meal,

Exchange apocalypse in faithful terms

And human

For a conclave

And a celebration

Of each other

Reasonably

Most of us believe

And there are those who don’t

Though binary’s not enough

There must be more

Than defining one thing

By its opposite

Humanists

Secularists

Unitarians

People of the Renaissance

Who gave science a category

Near faith

Without faith

Objectivists

Phenomenologists

People of reason

Rationality

Naturalism

Modernism

Fitter for post-modernism

Than the rest of us

Who could lead the way, in fact,

In appreciating

Difference

And diversity,

The creative celebration

Of the mind

And the experiment

Sorry I must

Define these as an

Other

But they must be

Welcome at the table

They could welcome us

We could invite each other

coda

Yes, which is not to say

Believers are irrational

Some are

Some want to be

And there are those who keep

Their faith as

Something in the wild

Those who lost at Whitby

But kept the Celtic

Style and ritual

Below

And now in daylight

Seek in celebration

Understanding for the rest of us

But faith has reason;

Might we say

That reason is creation

By creator?

Say no

Say yes

But allow for some very smart people

To believe

No one has to change

Except in violent intent

It should be an instinct to

Understand oneself

When understanding others

Keeping in mind

With hopefulness

That the one requested

Will in turn

Turn toward you to say

And what is your story?

Delightfully,

Be ready

C L Couch

I was writing before dawn and thinking about the seasons that are upon us now, wonderful times—and that in the spirit of this or that we might serve each other not only better but also for the first time, the stakes being, well, everything

now it’s dawn

by M. Garlick/University of Warwick/ESO – http://www.eso.org/public/images/eso1627a/, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=99645426

December 19, 2022 2