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poem

Qwerty

(x = space)

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Qwerty

(minus w, minus t)

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What do you want of me,

God?

Maybe the next hour

Or tomorrow

Or the moment

That is the only thing

I know for sure

There is

And now the next one

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What is your will

And should I ask?

Maybe I don’t need to

Maybe knowing is for

Greater ones

Than I

The ones for histories

Who rated visions

The certainly

Of steps to take

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I muddle

And you, reading,

Muddle like me

If you’re like me

Maybe it’s easy

There is an easy need

For something

And we move

We save considerations

For contemplation

Conversations

That may never happen

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If a bomb

Should crash this wall

If should be in bed

Because of illness

Then all there is to think about

If thought is clear

Is to survive the time

Allowed

Against sadnesses

Even the world’s evil

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Hunger

Should affect me thus

Or thirst for something safe

Or doubt for faith

Should that be the exchange

For everything vile

That may come upon me

Come upon us

x

Since, actually,

I might be moved with

Greater intensity

Should it happen to you

x

I shall believe

And ask

Even as confidence fades

That I shall ever know

That you shall ever tell me

What would please you

What would serve you

Not in an epic

But small verses

That could

Make

At least delineate

A life

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C L Couch

while I’m typing

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Photo by Denny Müller on Unsplash

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two poems for July

(x = space)

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two poems for July

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Watch Your Dogs

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Dogs don’t like fireworks

Many veterans don’t

All kinds of people

Be with them

Sit with them

Support K-9 programs

Support people

Not everyone likes fireworks

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Photo by Yuki Dog on Unsplash

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Hello, July

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Hello, July

It’s hot and humid here

Not much more to say

But, well

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There’s a lot of green

And other colors, too

Not like fall

But everything that lives

Does fly and otherwise

Visit us a season

As if

Forever’s come to call on

Bees and butterflies

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The fireflies

Still have a season

Though, like strawberries,

They flourish in June

Around here

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Storms appear and fall

Blow things around

Hot and wet fronts bumping

Around

Generally, we say

We need the water

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Flavor of Hibiscus

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Flavor of Hibiscus

Photo by Michael Dziedzic on Unsplash

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C L Couch

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End of June

(x = space)

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End of June

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Six-thirty on six-thirty

June is ending

In the north it’s bright

There might be

Evening cool

And somewhere nightingales

Calling to the larks of dawn

July rising

Count the days

June hath thirty

The next month one day more

The summer count of days

(south it’s winter)

Continues

So green in places

Not yet time to think

Of turning into autumn

A peak of season’s glory

In our minds,

Trying to soften

Angles and edges

Of a hardened world

While green means life

And some might say retreat

Shade is good

And breezes, too

Moments for gratitude

And summer supplication

x

C L Couch

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Photo by Karl Hedin on Unsplash

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Sorry, Uncle

(x = space)

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Sorry, Uncle

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I haven’t

Liked

A thing

All day

Not the rest

That was

Too brief

Not the clothes

That are too worn

Well, in need

Of cleaning

Not the food or drink

That was too sweet

And filled me up

So that

What’s inside and

The rest of me

Are getting along awkwardly

At best

x

Not the words I’ve set down

Drawn lines

Through

Made spaces

Tried to write again

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What to do on such a day?

Maybe nothing

I can take a break

Some might want me to

For one reason

Out of

Many reasons

I can pray

Prayer is an attitude

Telling me

I don’t have to write

To give, to send

Outside of me

Today

x

It’s late

I breathe

The breathing’s warm

My body’s warm

It’s June

How much more

Revelation

Do I need?

x

Oh,

I’m not angry

Parentally to say

I’m only

Disappointed

Twist the blade

Why don’t I?

x

Well, I’ll pause

And look

Here there are

Words

And sorry for conceits

x

I understand the beasts

In La Brea

Never got out

On their own

I’ll be with you

Tomorrow

Unsucked

From tar

Unstucked

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The bones of writing down

Enfleshed again

And on the move

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C L Couch

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Smilodon at the Page Museum at the La Brea Tar Pits

(image) by Dallas Krentzel – Smilodon at the Page Museum at the La Brea Tar PitsUploaded by FunkMonk, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18649097

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An Angel Drops the Mic

(x = space)

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An Angel Drops the Mic

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Show’s over

Time for applause

Be impressed with me

The talent

And the portent

The agency

I am

And represent

x

This was fun

Next time you see and hear me

The show will be the last

And best

And afterward

Maybe a revue in

Our new place

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C L Couch

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Photo by BRUNO EMMANUELLE on Unsplash

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Leaf-Taking

(x = space)

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Leaf-Taking

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Leaves change

As time changes

As time changes

Green becomes memory

Until green times

Return

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Leaves of pages

Change

As time changes

As time changes

The memory of reading

Reading now

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C L Couch

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Photo by Chinnu Indrakumar on Unsplash

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Photo by Roman Trifonov on Unsplash

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Before We Leave

(x = space)

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Before We Leave

(or stay at home)

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Keep us

Safe at home

Safe far away

Safe in a crowd

Safe on our own

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Fed

Watered

Like valued plants

We also sometimes

Talk to

Sheltered from

All evils

All extremes

That cruelly stretch

Reason out shape

For decent use

x

Help us to use

Our senses

As we have them

To expand

And justify

And celebrate

Your placing us

On Earth

Inside the cosmos

Our greater purpose

Serving you

Two great

Commandments

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C L Couch

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Photo by Kyle Glenn on Unsplash

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An Odd Prayer to Share

(x = space)

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An Odd Prayer to Share

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God, help us

As we must know you

Something besides us

For people fail

They go away

Often for normal reasons

We are inside

And something should be known

Outside the skin

Of each of us

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We breathe

And that’s good

What is breathing for

And other pleasures?

And when it hurts

And they

What then?

Where is the reason

Who’s the reason?

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Nature is good

We can humanize

When we’re not exploiting

Its indifference

With our indifference

We can worship it

It will not specifically respond

We can destroy it

But then

We can destroy each other

Too

(not recommended)

x

There is something

That is not us

Someone

Who is not us

We are talking to you

Unless we’re sure there’s nothing

And we’re only talking

To ourselves

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Either way, something more

Is needed

Not that each of us is bad

Or useless

Not that self-destruction is a choice

And we’re committed

(or we’re careless)

In which case

There is no talking

To oneself or anything

And we choose that way

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Or talk us out of it

(and here is a conceit

if not a cheat,

for this is a collective prayer)

Set us on paths

Toward light

Toward life

Toward righteousness

Not the indignant kind

Not ego-driven

But has illumination

As a cause

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Beyond self

There are so many things

So many people

There is much within us, too

Even the storm

And we are enough

For that

For them

For us

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C L Couch

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a prayer to say together, on behalf, or one by one

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Photo by Erika Giraud on Unsplash

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For a Sad Time

(x = space)

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For a Sad Time

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God gives

We say

God takes away

It’s true

Especially

If we accept Job

As a template

Loss for what seems is

No good reason

If reason

Loss arrives

What shall we do

But keep

The good we know

The hope we have

Say

In other stories

Our own

That we compose

As best we may

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C L Couch

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Photo by Jules Marvin Eguilos on Unsplash

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