Where Are You?
A single bird sings to the rest
I’m here
I’m here
I’m here
Come to me
I’m lonely
And I’m hungry
I’m here
I’m here
I’m here
I have this nest, you see
I’m here
I’m here
I’m here
And I must stay
Until they’re here
And then
We’re here
We’re here
We’re here
C L Couch
in part inspired by Leaf and Twig, https://leafandtwig.wordpress.com/, and the declaration of what birds sing
I heard a single bird, which was also inspiration
Photo by Wengang Zhai on Unsplash
Turn Around
This is sweeter than
I’d thought
(what I’m eating)
The day is still and white
But, look, the branches move
The movie is better
Than remembered
When leaning back,
The pillow touches the right place
From where
It had fallen
A surprise
Many small surprises
In this day
The day itself
A gift
From no one in particular
That is the disguise
Faith in costume
Grace behind a mask
It seems
We can’t have it any other way
C L Couch
United Nations COVID-19 Response
(Unsplash)
Physical distancing. Image created by Samuel Rodriguez. Submitted for United Nations Global Call Out to Creatives – help stop the spread of COVID-19.
Wilderness for Real
(before the angels or the promised land)
So what happens
In the wilderness?
We think more about its passing
Forty days in the wilderness
Forty years wandering
The desert
How were they led
Without any leading?
There was no direction but
Not to find the way
One day in a wilderness
Without means except
What might fall out of the sky
Stone into bread
Water from rocks, that is
And are we to live by miracle
For many days?
The holes inside of desert walls
Holes within holes
Drive in a couple pegs
To make a shelf
This life was considered wisdom?
There must have been
The company of food
If not of people bringing it
Water must have gotten there
Somehow,
Meaning wisdom must be patronized
Sponsors for each hermit
If not a dining hall
Is a hermitage allowed community?
Is there companionship
Inside the wilderness?
Who would be alone
To hear only the heart
Wait for nerve flashes
To shine behind the eye,
This is loneliness enough
The creator hasn’t left
Each one is not a pocket watch
Inside a deist vest
There is loneliness in wilderness
Underneath there is companionship
Something we feel
Less than God
But more than ego-censorship
Affords in crowds
Magnets are not good for us
They draw us without thinking
When we can get away
Or accept it, anyway
Because it happens
Something in us owns
The time, the chance
To say, this feels like home for now
I’ll stay here while I can
Even as a long-withheld surprise
I’ll learn
Employ some craft
Commune
It shouldn’t last forever
Then I get to return
Maybe encounter you
Before returning,
All changed
C L Couch
Photo by Arto Marttinen on Unsplash
Following
I have to get rid of things
So many books in boxes
Don’t worry, I’ve got some
Hundreds still, around
If they should take in mold
And mildew, well, they will
Though I’ve taken to
Dry atmospheres as well
Too many than I’ll read
They’ll live in piles, waiting
For the ones who will come
After—eager or indifferent
C L Couch
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
Cold Morning Jazz
1
It’s a cold and rainy day
I’m grateful
It’s been too hot
Maybe the neighbors turned
Up their heat
We’re all connected, you see
Like scratches on an antique plate
Like fog inside the city
Like rain
2
I’m not sure what to say
That hasn’t been said better
By someone else
But I’ll keep at it
Not for the sake of being fresh
But because there is a forum,
Here
In which we should all take part
I heard some truth yesterday
That I have heard before
How fossils added to
With imaginary flesh
Made way for the chimera
All combined animals of myth
She spoke her truth as if it were new
But I first heard it long ago
You see, each generation needs
To own its own
Not plagiarism
(plagiarism’s willful)
But new ownership
The sphinx is beautiful
Its paws upon the desert floor
Whose head is that
We think we know
Whose body
Name the lion, please
There’s work for you
3
I’m glad I’m not a city mouse
Somewhere there are mice
Plaster mice
We painted long ago
My brother made the city mouse
Many colors, elegant
Creative
My country mouse was simple
In blue, not much else
Than blue
We painted these at camp
Then they were put away
To look at, every now and then
Mine has a chip upon the ear
He can negotiate the city
I do okay,
When I have to
He is the -politan
I try to be the cosmo-
He is so good at what he does
And for my place I guess
I’m glad I am a country mouse
Who lives on Drury Lane
I should return his mouse
Next time I have the chance
C L Couch
Photo by Sash Margrie Hunt on Unsplash
The Martians
I feel a mechanical breeze
And I’m thankful
There’s real light in here
And from the lamps
Thank goodness for invention
As for my invention,
I’m not sure what to write about
A kind of hazy, light-colored day
Or the gift of light,
Colors on the rest
I think were I on Mars
I’d see there were a tint
Or some kind of curtain lowered
Over everything
Maybe eventually
I’d see the ochre tones as normal
That this is color for a Martian
My transitory home
‘Til there be oxygen in the sky
To breathe
And then what of the color?
Maybe it would look like Earth
A baby blue on everything
Though ancient Martians
If only microbe denizens
Could no longer
Look on home
C L Couch
The Hours
It is a quiet day so far
The only noise I hear is mine
Short steps here and there
The creaking microwave
(yes, it creaks when working
sometimes me, too)
Soft murmurs from the television
The illusion that we’re
Interacting
It shouldn’t have to be
The start of a campaign
A march for quiet times for
For writing or whatever
I’m grown: I should have it
When I need it
Raise some noise
When I want to
Otherwise, the timing of a cenobite
Who wishes only to be left alone
In prayer
A world of prayer
In which the supplicant, petitioner
Enjoys a pure way filled with silent atoms
Paving the way
For all the calls, complaints,
Requests to God
Sometimes too much, I think
The hermit should get out more
If at all
There is a world
The one prayed for
We should know it better
Before closing off
To help it
A fortress of solitude?
Is that why the heroes need one?
Shut oneself off
To better understand
The causes that we fight for
Extract ingredients from the bowl
Before they’re mixed again
Before we fly back to Metropolis
To take it all on
Again
C L Couch
Photo by Keenan Constance on Unsplash
This Magic Moment
I don’t want anything right now
Except to breathe
And that’s conceit
I’m sure there all kinds of things I want
To feel a breeze (there,
I’ve adjusted the fan)
To have sleeves to push up my arms
(I have those)
Enough vision to see what I am writing
Enough sound to believe
There’s interaction
In reality
In reality, I’m writing free,
Which is not so bad
I bought this moment
And I own it
Now no one else can take it back
Like some, small precious thing
You know the kind I mean
Kept somewhere
A moment of your company
Is something more
I can only ask
C L Couch
Photo by Museums Victoria on Unsplash
HMAS Australia, Rotary Photographic Series, ‘The Only Girl I Ever Loved’, 1914 -1918
Ending of the Week
(through the sickness)
It’s a special day
A day in Ramadan
Sabbath time will start for Jews
Christians may anticipate
A sabbath, too
For those who don’t believe,
It’s Friday
And it’s now
There is no better time
For breathing and for other
Action
Speaking of breathing,
The Buddhists can teach
The rest
Something about that
And they do
As far as I know, we are between
Times for special Hindu
Celebrations
But fauna call for
Remembrance all the time
We all should respect nature
So well
And this is what I know
Not so much, really
So many stories to see,
To hear
I won’t receive them all
But I want to
For those without a weekend,
It is different
I can feel for you,
If you don’t mind
I used to have my weekends
In the week
But for the front-liners
Standing, acting against disease
With everything that
Conflagrates
I don’t know what to say except
You rank me
And thank you
C L Couch
Photo by Gift Habeshaw on Unsplash
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