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Dear Next Page

(x = space)

x

x

Dear Next Page

x

This isn’t a diary

Dear Poem

Or what have you

Diaries are for

Confessions

Apologies in the old-fashioned way

As in explanations

Defensive explanations

And wishes

Wishes maybe

For the world to change

x

I keep a journal,

Which in the definitive way

Is dull

Why do I think the way I do? is

Taken on

And why is there breath

Or anything

But here’s the thing,

There I often write about

The way I feel

Not asking why I feel this way,

Simply saying

x

Maybe it is a diary, after all,

In the tradition of

A lock and key

x

I have a password

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Drahomír Posteby-Mach on Unsplash

Trollenäs 104, 241 92 Eslöv, Sweden, Trollenäs

x

2

Treasure

(small x by itself = space)

x

x

Treasure

x

A tower in a forest

I’ve never come upon one

The tower

Maybe not a forest

There are woods around

But old-growth trees,

Wide trunks

Branches that go the distance

Tangling with sunshine?

It’s old magic, really

That I’m looking for

Maybe in a crystal cave

That better have tall windows

Or on a ship

Over a rounded sea

The only way to get

To the X island

x

There can be new magic

Bright and shiny

But sometimes burnished gold

Has all the answers

With a reason

For discovery

The old informs the new

And we are reminded why

The treasure hunt’s important

Everyone should seek something

With an impulse,

Suspended between

Heart and brain

On strings that play of life

And invitation

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Nathan Anderson on Unsplash

Silverthorne, United States

x

4

The Nightmare Merchant

(x = space–and the expletive thought I have for the new WP editor)

x

x

The Nightmare Merchant

x

I don’t like yelling

At people in my sleep

I wake up

Remembering

Feel the anger

And the uselessness

Wanting to fix things

By the light of day

I’m working out things,

I guess

Letting my subconscious

Wander freely, too freely

Maybe

I wake up with a headache

Worse than usual

With no revelation,

Either

Wondering why revel

Is in revelation

There certainly had been no party

While I slept

And dreamed bad dreams

The last dream to remember

While I’m awake today

Between the sub- and the con-,

I’ll be working on it

Still

Half-part wanting to repair

Everything,

Half-part wishing that,

Like Bartleby,

I’d really rather not

Or like Bartleby

Deal in nightmares

x

C L Couch

x

x

Imagine my surprise, nay, my consternation, when without moving from his privacy, Bartleby in a singularly mild, firm voice, replied, “I would prefer not to.”

https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/11231/pg11231-images.html

x

Photo by Timothy Muza on Unsplash

Iceland

x

3

Novitiate

(x = space)

x

x

Novitiate

x

I should say something

It’s what I do

What I’ve done

For a thousand days

I’d call it discipline

Except it doesn’t feel that way

I’d call it delight

Except I rarely feel anything

Like giddy

Anymore, it’s simply

What I do

It’s ritualized, a secular

Devotion

No orthodoxy yet,

Which tends to mean oppression

This was

Established out of freedom

As a means for physical recovery

I guess it’s working

I’m still here

Now so are you

x

C L Couch

x

x

bougie dans la neige

Photo by Siora Photography on Unsplash

x

2

Deadline-ism

(x = space between lines or parts–really feeling annoyed with the new editor)

x

x

Deadline-ism

x

I am behind

Not in traffic

But with you

I’m sorry

I’m trying to catch up

So easily tiring, these days

Even though mostly

I’m inside

As you might be

Or otherwise, somehow

Safe

Be that way, please

I’m getting there

I’d like to see you

When this is finished

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

Made with Canon 5d Mark III and loved analog lens, Leica Summilux-R 1.4 50mm (Year: 1983)

I’m not sure if the figure is asking for help or offering it

x

2

The Rabbi Walked Out

The Rabbi Walked Out

 

I want to call it Thursday

Penultimate weekday

Some extra breathing

Room for action

‘Til the weekend mind take over

 

Issues realized

The work week

The weekend

Take the children from the factory

It’s taken ages,

And we still have a ways to go

For these

With older evils—slavery,

Sex work

The companies that say

You do not matter

We will use you ‘til you’re done

And then some more

Then forget you were ever here

 

We’re civilized, we say

But it’s a rounded apex

On a shifting base

Where evils

Slide like scorpions

Ancient riddles

We have left unanswered

While those of us who could

Have climbed

Set flags

And hope that they will stand

Until we’re gone

 

For the rest who stay

One generation to the other

Today should be the day

We stay for freedom

Fight

Start a resistance

Ask for help

Steal the technology for reaching

Count the cost

Each one has value

Lose until we’ve won

 

C L Couch

 

 

(the Rabbi mystery series by Harry Kemelman)

 

Photo by Marie Bellando-Mitjans on Unsplash

Jewish Museum, Berlin, Germany

 

https://www.jmberlin.de/en/shalekhet-fallen-leaves

 

4

Riddle Me

Riddle Me

 

I look (don’t stare)

At the empty page

I don’t have to worry

If it’s crap, I’ll throw it out

Well, the electronic version

I suppose once something’s

Done in here

It’s never gone for good

Should that be daunting?

I don’t know

Mostly, I don’t care

Let the devil have electrons

God is with me here

And there

 

Words on the page now

Black tracks of gospel birds

The solution to

A medieval riddle

And a gospel message

The bird (the quill)

That walks across the page

Bringing new life to vellum

That was dead, the skin of animals

Stretched out

What passed for stationery

Then

 

A monk moving the quill

One of a literate minority

Leaving  a message first to dry

Then to be read

Wondrously illustrated

Presented at midday

The sun to bless

The effort of the monastery

 

And then, for effect,

A library

Maybe thirty books

For rank to show what

Can be bought, in fact, for show

And with tutors’ help

To read

And then, perhaps,

To change the world

 

C L Couch

 

 

a thousand years ago, riddles were fun

 

Photo by Tim Bish on Unsplash

Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library, New Haven, United States

This is a 9 RAW photo composite. This library is lit through 1 1/2 inch marble walls by natural sunlight.

 

3

Unchained

Unchained

 

I should say something spiritual

Because I always should

You should, too

Not because we’re prophets

Or Plato’s philosopher-monarchs

But because the world of “ness”

Ideals

(chairness, truthness)

Is far beyond us

While we’re looking in the cave

And through dark glass

 

So anyone might speak

And everyone should have a turn

Not for the ego, no

Not for hidden revelation

Revealed for a profit (that’s the

money and the ego-kind)

But because everyone gets a turn

And another

In each round

That’s how we talk

And carry on with each other

And with God

 

Each one matters

In spite of what we do

Angels as the agents

Will keep tabs

Keep count

Make sure we get it right

Or pay for it later

No, it’s not a matter of punishment

It’s an issue of being fair

Though for each one lost

There will be a reckoning

(sorry)

So give each one a chance

Or maybe lose it later

 

And this is spiritual?

Well, not everything is gospel

As in good news

Sometimes the news is hard

Maybe the bookkeeper takes a lead

From our own media,

Which certainly must tell us

What we value

No?

Then change it

Change everything, if need be

If you can follow the rule of love

To do it

 

Bring your new army to the door

And don’t release a rock

From a sling

Or fire a shot

But win the day because

The gates of hell will not prevail

Against us

 

C L Couch

 

 

photo by Jason Blackeye on Unsplash

Greece

padlocked fence

 

3

Unkept Doctrine

Unkept Doctrine

(and unkempt)

 

I’ve been meaning to

Write about grace

The kind that is

Free

That no one can hold onto

That has no rules except

To help ‘til heroes return

 

Like crumpling a butterfly

In a human hand,

It doesn’t

Mean so much if you try

To clutch it

Or claim at all it’s yours

It isn’t yours

And can’t be claimed by anyone

Don’t try

 

Enjoy the benefit

In a sunshine of surprise

Don’t polish it

Or ever, every try

To keep it on a shelf

It has no rules that we’re aware of

Someone, yes,

Not us

To those who want to market it,

You’ll learn, if you have to

Then be forgotten

It’s as if grace has a contract

Somewhere,

Chaotically enforced

When someone tries

To own it

 

The rest of us

Will bask, when we never thought

We’d have the chance

To breathe at all

Again

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Luke Stackpoole on Unsplash

New York, United States

Steam venting in Manhattan.

 

3

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