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poem

two poems, I don’t know why

(x = space)

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Lost World

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Dumb means mute

Kids are small goats

Am I becoming

That old person?

A semicolon’s

Better than a comma splice

President of the United States

Is always capitalized

Unlike another mention

Of a president

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Defensive driving

Is a good thing

People should know

The lyrics of the first verse

Of the national anthem

And the lyrics to

One Christmas carol

(take your pick)

All is not lost in lost traditions,

I suppose;

I made that last one up

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No re-creating the world

In my image,

Thank the Lord

(thank you)

It took me a while

To learn “whom” from “who”

So I’m going to use it

But I don’t mind

If you don’t,

Which is mostly true

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The Lost World is a story first by Arthur Conan Doyle, then by Michael Crichton who used the title as a tribute and allusion, as I am using the title here.

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Supplicant

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Well, it’s early and I’m up

What shall you have for me,

Dear Lord?

What might I do for you?

Nothing, I think, that’s

Worthwhile

All right, that’s worthy

What do I have to contribute to a

God?

No gold, no blood-letting

(sorry)

Nothing awful

That might have been awesome

Only me and the wretched qualities

I have—

That grace has saved

For a wretch like me—

Can offer

Most of the time, I don’t know

What these are

Help me, Lord,

To understand

What I have that could ever

Please, if not

Satisfy

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“Amazing Grace,” a song by John Newton

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Photo by AJITH S on Unsplash

Rameswaram, Tamil Nadu, India

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C L Couch

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Civil Conspiracy

(x = space)

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Civil Conspiracy

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If everyone had what they want

Aberrance aside

I mean a place to live

That is secure and likable

Food

For need and a little more celebration

The chance to learn

Some might say we have those things now

We don’t

Water that’s safe and without fear

A measure of peace

In our days and nights

Would this be a better world?

Of course, it would be

How otherwise?

A job

That’s not a dream deferred

So that we rise

Oh, yes, we rise

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Join me a campaign, will you?

An open conspiracy

To find the smaller and the larger

Ways,

Practice them

To meet the needs of others

And ourselves

That’s it: no more profound than that

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C L Couch

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Extinction Rebellion September 2020 Protests for the Launch of the Climate and Ecological Emergency Bill (CEE Bill) across the City of London

Photo by Ehimetalor Akhere Unuabona on Unsplash

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Erev Yom Kippur

(x = space)

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Erev Yom Kippur

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Grant us mercy

When we cannot find it in ourselves

To give one another;

Show us kindness

When we’ve forgotten how to show it;

Forgive us

When we forget the value in forgiving

With the newness of life, after

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CLC

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for Christians, there is the sibling and the altar (Matthew 5:24)

and reconciliation in most other traditions, hopefully

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F/GURA PROJECT #1

Photo by Norbert Kowalczyk on Unsplash

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Gaze

(x = space)

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Gaze

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Give me a

Small piece of Earth

For a while

With dust swept in the corner

Without perfection

A hard floor

Some stones for walls

A ledge from which to look

While I can look

Out upon, well,

Everything you’ve made

And the uneasy alliance

You have with

Your creatures

Maybe all of them

Certainly the ones who

Made it out of Eden

Not unscathed

And how much we took with us

No one knows for now

And it’s been a while

And in this place

I’ll ponder you

And us

And our place with each other

In the grander scheme

Of things,

Which for now is

Still a guess

Though sometimes

We think we’re getting closer

But I won’t care about conclusions

Rather the sacraments

In each moment

Normal, mortal

Materials

Turned

Taken inside

To serve a spiritual purpose

However far

A thought of you

And us

Might take us

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C L Couch

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The Sacrament of the Present Moment by Jean-Pierre de Caussade

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Photo by Brigi Uhrin on Unsplash

Budapest, Budapest, Magyarország

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Thirty Means End of Story

(x = space)

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Thirty Means End of Story

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How will it end

We do not know

What happens next

We have great lore

And supposition

We have stories

Of returns

We should believe them

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C L Couch

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(not years—thirty is or used to be a sign in journalism)

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Photo by Rishabh Sharma on Unsplash

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holy and holy

(x = space)

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holy and holy

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one priest one day a year

I wonder if it were cleaned

maybe by the priest

how dusty would it get

without a cleaning

over time

would the priest walk through dust

to find the glorious container

in which was God

maybe a walk through dust

reminded the priest

of mortality

on the way to what is glory

and shall never change

such a day it might be

when splendid robes

are marred

walking through the dust

accumulated

by passing time

by mortality

by forbidding rules

with eternity beyond

how tempting it might be

to stay

not have to walk back

through the particles

of death

reminding everything unclean

but the assignment ends

other rules pull

back through earth

back to earth

changed

moving faith

for another year

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c l couch

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Photo by Andy Køgl on Unsplash

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spooky times

(x = space)

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spooky times

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have a good hallowe’en

be safe

no razor blades

did that ever happen

not to invoke a retry

of insanity

nothing to do

with trick-or-treat magic

costumes for the veil

that entertain

the fun kind of fear

civil ghosts

good witches who

spell out

in autumn

south in spring

in chocolate letters

marshmallow punctuation

masks

ephemeral disguise

‘til it’s time to treat

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c l couch

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Four pumpkins, individually carved for Halloween 2020. One with a COVID mask.

(detail)

photo by the blowup on Unsplash

London, UK

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Futurism

(x = space)

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Futurism

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Men retreat

Women advance

Children waiting

They play

An idea forms

A dream invented

All go toward

An interpretive horizon

Until the line and

Agenda are released

And all go home

With marbles

So many

You would not believe

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C L Couch

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Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

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We’re Often Told

(x = space)

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We’re Often Told

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I have no idea why

A nice song comes to mind

And then another

It’s not for beatific sleep

Or a sweet disposition

Wakened first thing

By the telephone

It’s not because of bristly

Wind outside,

Blowing what fall colors

We have known

Off slender branches

That could have been clothed

A while longer, should

Nature have consulted me

Tired, cranky

Thinking so-and-so by so-and-so

And I mean me

It should be a gray and spiny

Day by all accounts

Gray and apathy

Yet pleasant lyrics

With their high notes come

My way, though I did not

Ask them to

Serenaded by the mariachis

I have made up in

A mind that will not quit

Drugged by caffeine,

Scarred over

Not so pretty if I ever was

An inside and an outside

Needing shelves

And somehow from the files

Arising from the folders

Made of neurons

There is

Something to listen to

The kind that has no hearing

Seeing a singer

Who’s not there

On stage in costume

For a minimal production

Of a bittersweet play,

Which is what I get

Shortly after waking

On a late-fall day

In Pennsylvania of the USA

Wherever you might be

Might be the same

Company across telepathy

Made by

The chief of surgery

Who’s had the job

Since there were eons

Needing mending

With a song

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C L Couch

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“Somebody to Watch Over Me” by Ira Gershwin, George Gershwin

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Photo by Dmitriy K. on Unsplash

Kyiv, Украина

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