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Folding Expectations

(x = space)

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Folding Expectations

(thanks to Meg and Madeleine L’Engle)

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There’s a physics

In the characters

Who wake up late

And join each other

In the kitchen

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Eating liverwurst-and-onion

Sandwiches

And discussing tesseract,

Other functions and ideas,

The day,

The world,

And each other

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I can’t pardon their menu

But I applaud the way

They spend secret,

Winking time

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Wrinkling it,

To say,

Slipping a dynamo

Inside hours that pass

Most of us as

Static

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I long to sit

At Meg’s table

Then join her

Sometimes with siblings

On the seeing rock

Out back

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C L Couch

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photo by Vinicius “amnx” Amano on Unsplash

gym ceiling in sao paulo, brasil

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Writing Us

(x = space)

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Writing Us

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I suppose

We have to talk about ourselves

Each utterance an unwilling

Biography

I want to hear your story

And in the electron universe I do,

And I am thankful

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I hope that you are well

I hope that God protects you

Via angels

Or the arrival of a cathartic,

Gentler day

Then when inner wind’s inhaled

Back to the fray

That is the rest of today

Into tomorrow

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So I might hear,

Inshallah,

And you tell me

Tell us all

So we might breathe

For sharing

And consider this community

With certain anonymities

Withstanding

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Talk to me

I can talk back

Unless listening

In the quiet space between us

Is better

For the call

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C L Couch

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x

Photo by Ricardo Gomez Angel on Unsplash

Drops

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at the specialist’s

(x = space)

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at the specialist’s

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hot in here

in here

in here

in here

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room

wool

brain

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I wait

it’s not been long

I met two of them already

this is the quiet part

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quiet waiting room

the specialist’s

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c l couch

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Photo by billow926 on Unsplash

坑口地铁站, 广州市, 中国

Instagram：billow926 business e-mail ：billow926@yeah.net

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2

White Light

(x = space)

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White Light

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It’s all right

I wish it had more yellow

As it is,

It glares

But since I got some sleep

It doesn’t hurt to look at

Maybe the blue and yellow

Are muted in

Winter’s last gasp

The white light a tribute

To what was

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What was

A mild winter, more or less,

With snowstorms

Every now and then

That pounded elsewhere

Worse than what

We got,

Which I’m sorry

Selfishly was fine

White snow on the ground

White light in the sky

Too much

Too much for a claustrophobe

Too much for me

Maybe too much for you

If you live at all

Like me

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C L Couch

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Photo by Caleb George on Unsplash

Deer Herd on a Winter’s Day

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love we do

(x = space)

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love we do

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love needs air

it needs oxygen

it needs to breathe

not love in space, perhaps

but love here

on Earth

where nature

loves the animals

where people might

love each other

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the one

the two

the many

who is

who are

the oxygen

better than the atmosphere

(though we need

the molecules),

giving air through

the heart

the brain

the stomach

even the liver and the kidneys

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giving life

and taking life

but less than giving

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c l couch

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“Love Me Do,” Lennon-McCartney

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Photo by David Clode on Unsplash

Birdworld Kuranda, Rob Veivers Drive, Kuranda QLD, Australia

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Diagnostics

(x = space)

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Because heart disease and the pandemic aren’t enough, I’ve been diagnosed with something more.  Not the worst, certainly not the best.  More medicine and alternatives to try.

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Diagnostics

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I’m tired

And I’m sorry

And I didn’t get

A good diagnosis

Not that the pandemic

Cares

It’s not awake

It doesn’t vote

It’s doesn’t laugh

In the irony

Of being sick from something else

This is my day, I guess,

To deal

To move around precautions

While I take them

Looking for

I don’t know

New ways, new things

To try

To live new life

Mollified, uncoddled

Looking from inside

As if the world

For good or ill

Is new

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C L Couch

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x

Photo by Kai Dahms on Unsplash

Blood

cell

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6

Flying, Creeping Things

(x = space)

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Flying, Creeping Things

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I liken the bird

To the Holy Spirit

That flies with grace,

Usually

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Often arrives

As a surprise

That on good

Days knows the wind

And all the stirrings

Of the Earth,

That often arrives

As shadow,

Serving

As prophecy

Anticipated

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The Bible kind

Nothing marketed

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We can aim

And shoot

And tear the metaphor

Apart

Or we can listen

Glossolalia

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A song announcing

God is alive

In fragile revelation

For our sakes

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Closely attend

An irony of notice,

Trampling the uncertainty

Doctrine or fear

Demand

With the way in

We’ve always wanted

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C L Couch

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Leviticus 11:21-22

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Photo by Agustin Fernandez on Unsplash

Punta Alta, Buenos Aires, Argentina

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1

Remembering WCW (MD)

(x = space)

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Remembering WCW (MD)

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The light of dusk

Against the tree

Light blue behind branches

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Across the street,

Part of a red-brick building

Bricks shining orange

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There is no wind

No noise

This is life, still

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Maybe it’s true

That so much depends upon his

Scene in twilight

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C L Couch

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XXII

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so much depends

upon

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a red wheel

barrow

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glazed with rain

water

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beside the white

chickens

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Williams, William Carlos, “XXII,” Spring and All (New York: Contact Editions / Dijon: Maurice Darantière, 1923).

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Red_Wheelbarrow

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used to drive my students crazy

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Photo by Namroud Gorguis on Unsplash

Red brick wall of an old barn.

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Slowdown Season

(x = space)

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Slowdown Season

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Lent could mean

Anticipation,

If we would allow for that

In the midst of conversations

About sacrifice

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Having given up

On chocolate, we need

Something to talk about

How about why?

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Sacrifice for its own sake

Being good,

Don’t get me wrong

Though we can

Say more

About the season

About church

About reading

About us

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Lent means getting ready

Or it might

Lest we forget

Why we gave up the chocolate

Or the coffee

Or, I don’t know,

What do people give up

Nowadays?

(maybe screen time)

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It seems we give up

Something somewhat bad

Somewhat good

Maybe it’s the excess

We surrender,

Which a good ancient Greek

Will say

Is always good

A lifestyle to adopt

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Well, we’re not here

To parse

We’re here, in fact, because

We’re unified

We want one thing

Even if delivery

Is holiday disarray

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We want a happy Easter

With rabbits

And eggs

(rabbits who lay eggs)

And back to chocolate

Like a former friend

Now reconciled

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There is more

But it’s not mine to say

You must, must not

It is yours to say

To own a resurrection

Shown in nature

Told as story

A question and an answer

Of belief

It’s yours to say

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C L Couch

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Photo by Vidar Nordli-Mathisen on Unsplash

Walk the Line

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