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The Gifter

(x = space)

x

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The Gifter

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Something brief and fragile

Like the low candle

Ready to touch the plate,

Run out of life

Of thread and wax to burn

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Who says “brief candle,”

Hamlet or Macbeth?

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Both ready for an end,

Relinquished from the missions

Set upon by ghosts and witches

Daggers and blood

And other apparitions

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That like the dagger

Blood on hands

In fact, all apparitions

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Might be of the mind,

Modern interpretation

Of medieval magic

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A gift of time in time

The gifter having only one

For whom the limitations

Of one time can

Never, never, never, never, never

Be enough

x

C L Couch

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And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more.

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Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5

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x

red light

Photo by Maeghan Smulders on Unsplash

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Half a Building Gone

(x = space)

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Half a Building Gone

(Surfside, Florida)

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Half a building gone

It seems,

Unreal

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I mean, how do we

Take it in?

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High-rise exposure—the

Condos look

Like cells,

Like empty egg cartons

Many stories high

x

The back that stands

Looks brown;

The open part looks

Silver,

Though I imagine

The effect is the light

Of day

And camera resolution

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How many died?

How many live?

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Already a pack appears

Around a microphone,

Mouthing

Not enough details

Although with

Many assurances

x

Maybe that’s good

x

Maybe it symbolizes

There should not

Be panic

But that the best advice

Is to sit

Or stand around

x

While the recues

Work on,

Heroes

x

When the experts

Do their jobs

That they do well

x

Stand by

For more information,

More assurances

x

C L Couch

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Photo by Dan Russo on Unsplash

Florida, United States

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Provision

(x = space)

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Provision

(from Psalm 23)

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Still waters

But not stagnant

There is movement

Of the Earth

And provision by

Earth’s Spirit

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The saints

And other essences

Provide gentle

And fulfilling currents

And sponsor peace

Beneath, above

Where water moves

And air

And all good things

For that we might rest

Beside the water

And sometimes go in

For cleanliness

Or fun

x

C L Couch

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Photo by Mathias P.R. Reding on Unsplash

France

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Anything We Give Each Other

(x = space)

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Anything We Give Each Other

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What shall I give of

Myself today?

Many skin cells,

Loose strands of hair,

Carbon dioxide

Naturally

x

Thoughts as I write

Or should I talk

With anyone;

Or will a few drop down

Onto the page

Made of cells

And electrons

From me

Or the machine?

x

And we will each give

Of each one

Exchange

Like inhale for exhale,

As close as

Sharing across

The boundaries

Allows inside the rings

Of a mortally fixed

Universe

x

C L Couch

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x

Photo by Pavel Neznanov on Unsplash

Saratov, Russia

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Solstice Properties

(x = space)

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Solstice Properties

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Stonehenge is a solstice

Property,

As is Newgrange,

Machu Pichu,

And anywhere there is

A sacred pointer for

The movement

Of the sun

x

Earth will now start

To tip the other way,

Technically; we enter

The winter-half

Of the year

While officially (as we are

official to ourselves),

Summertime has only

Begun

x

I guess I’ve

Thought about this

Quandary for a while

And wondered about

Other people’s

Calendars—after all,

Shouldn’t this be the

Halfway point of

Summer?  And do we not

In certain ways and places

Call these days

Midsummer?  The mix

Of math and culture in me

Doesn’t understand

x

But it’s official,

And I hope this is a

Pleasant season for you;

We certainly need one

And the next season

Could be pleasant,

Too, for all our weariness,

For those who have

Persevered

x

C L Couch

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x

Photo by Adrien Aletti on Unsplash

Ottawa, ON, Canada

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If All Were a Leg

(x = space)

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x

If All Were a Leg

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The pain is rising from

My foot and

Shooting through my leg,

Because my leg is trying

To replace my ankle

While

Doing its own job

x

Not working out so well

I think my ankle’s

Bored, and my leg doesn’t

Need a second job

So

Here’s hoping everything

Will have its own back

Soon,

Because healing has the overarching

Task of taking chaos due to injury:

x

To signal a

Rearranging necessary

For the moment, which is

Fragile,

Toward a time when the body will be

Less

Sore and

More sensible for managing

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C L Couch

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17 If the whole body were an eye, how would you hear? Or if your whole body were an ear, how would you smell anything? . . . 20 Yes, there are many parts, but only one body. 21 The eye can never say to the hand, “I don’t need you.” The head can’t say to the feet, “I don’t need you.”

1 Corinthians 12:17, 20-21

New Living Translation

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Photo by Guilherme Stecanella on Unsplash

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Sunday Best

(x = space)

x

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Sunday Best

(for Juneteenth)

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I celebrate from a distance,

Thinking of church

As an invitation

I received

Several years ago

In a Black church in Louisville,

Kentucky

x

I was there for meetings

And on

Sunday morning

We went to a church

Some of us

Had known about

x

Arms rose into the air

For hours, and the choir

Never seemed

To stop

x

And, I’m sorry,

I don’t remember the

Preaching

But remember the music

And the dancing in the air

Of arms and words

Carried up

By song

x

And if the Spirit could be

Smoke, we

We wouldn’t breathe

But as it’s air

We breathed in life

And exhaled

New visions

x

And we were welcomed,

Such was love

In the airy cloud

That prismed every color

With invitation

Courtesy

And movement

For outsiders

x

We were there for hours

Without knowing

This was Sunday best

At its best

I’ll be a part of it again

Someday

x

For there

There was freedom in the

Spirit

As there should be a day for it

Then every day

Every day a work

And play

For freedom

Numinous

And real

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C L Couch

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Spirituality

Photo by Thiago Barletta on Unsplash

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2

3 poems about room

(x = space)

x

x

3 poems about room

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Waiting Room

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Lately, I’ve been angry in my dreams

I’m not sure what that means

I’ve argued with my mother

I’ve argued with former coworkers

Then I’ve left each encounter

To find a peaceful place, all my own

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x

Wanting Room

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I’ve not argued with God

In my dreams

I’ve not argued with God

When awake

I don’t argue with God

x

Though I imagine

There was a time

When I must have argued,

When

Hurts were all

Too awful in the bearing

Of them,

And I didn’t want

To bear them

x

Wanting relief, instead

Or at least a reason—

No, a reason

Wouldn’t be enough

x

I wanted relief

From God

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Room

x

I want room from the landlord*

Who makes me live

With paper-peeling walls

And ceiling and says he can do

Nothing

x

I want room from doctors who

Don’t respond

To their own tests,

To tell me how to deal with

Possibly a broken bone

And certainly with broken flesh

x

I want room

From people who don’t recognize

Me anyway

Because they don’t recognize

Anyone, anyway

x

Each is in a world of one

While the rest of us are landscape

Statues in performance,

Performing when invoked

With snapping fingers or something

x

I’ll take room

From that

From those,

Thank you

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C L Couch

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Photo by Holy Maria Lala on Unsplash

Palmerston North, New Zealand

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*(room, landlord = pun, sorry)

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1

Prognostic Thursday

(x = space)

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Prognostic Thursday

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Sprained or splintered,

I wait to hear

What the x-rays tell

Some kind of brace

To wear for a while

Nothing stronger

Than Tylenol

For the pain (sigh)

It’s not the worst pain

Bearable except for walking

Of standing

Or sitting down

All right, well,

It’s frustrating

There’s not much else

To do for a while

But to stay still

Very contemplative, I’m sure

Except for finding

The quiet, ecstatic joy

The mystics found

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C L Couch

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Photo by Vismay Krishna on Unsplash

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