When the Lord Must Be Angry
And how does a loving God
Do this
Even
Separate us
From itself
(while the wrong people
hear this
heed the warning)
The anger of the Lord
So far as
Saul
In Endor
Is extreme
Saved for despots
Those who try to re-invent the world
Starting
With
Perspective
That is
Having left reality
A golden ball for acquisition
With
So many things upon it
We can move with
Impunity
To own
It isn’t real
None of it is real
And judgment will catch up
Before the end
Placing
Where
Even waiting
To get better might no longer be
Allowed
(I do not know
I’m not an agent
of
afterlife-
contracting)
As the surrender
Of humanity
Is understood
Here
And beyond the gates
With too much evidence
To miss
While
The rest leave
Dictatorship alone
In gross choices
We eschew
For the sake
(we must)
Of
Our own souls
So that
What is left
In the despotic head
(new
storied clothes over
the rest)
Is only at
Last
A devilish kind of loneliness
With a push
From the ghosts of futures
Into a dark and emptied place
Filled
Only with
The company
By the regretting
Perfect magistrate
Of
Condemnation
C L Couch
Photo by Dmitry Bukhantsov on Unsplash
cool be cool
and it’s a lovely day
(to
love)
an irony
of gray
though we can remember blue
while we enjoy the cool
the low dewpoint
mid-August
while we’ve been keeping
record heat
until
today
and thank you
to
the God of gray
(to
love)
who brings
the clouds
and maybe spritzes of rain
to shine the leaves
that have
been looking up
and out
with us
for some relief
(to
love)
from all reliance
on machines
for cool
now
let’s
be cool
(to
love)
c l couch
photo by Fons Heijnsbroek on Unsplash
A Little Monday-Morning Catechism
(from having the History Channel on)
warming up—
Did God make the rock?
Yes
Is God the rock?
No
now the heart of it—
Is the Bible real?
Yes
Is the Bible true?
Yes
Is the Bible story?
Is it myth?
Yes and Yes
Did the things in it happen
(ark and ark and such)?
Why, yes
Is the Bible also metaphor?
You bet
And fable (fabula), allegory,
song, and liturgy
It’s all these things
and more
It’s also real and true
a storybook
a manual for life
by first prescribing faith
Mostly, the Bible is
a story about God and us
How God moved
How everything was made
(and was good
work)
The morally static
cosmos
and then us
and then the sabbath
When God rested
showing us
that we should do the same
It is a special book
A series of books
A book of life
Truth or consequences
A book not without humor
too
(ask Balaam’s ass)
A book that saves
though
like most books
only through engagement
Meaning
read the thing
hear it
try to own it
even with all of its absurdities
that one might think
a holy book
should not have
but this one does
As it is
a book of faith
and love
C L Couch
Photo by Daniel Morton on Unsplash
Squatter’s Right
Sometimes
I am tired
Of being inside me
And I wish
I could be inside
Someone else
Which is a wish
I guess
In fact
To be
Someone else
Someone with fewer troubles
Or another set
At least
For interest
And maybe with resources
Inner and outer
Better to deal
From
Both places
Someone who’s with others
More
Who doesn’t have a solitary
Occupation
At least
Not so much
Who’s maybe traveled some
Beyond the Thoreauvian way
Who’s maybe
Been to Spain
Or the Bahamas
Maybe
To Ireland
I don’t know
And there are continents
Besides
Someone
Who’s much more comfortable
With the world
Than I’ve ever been
Who’s
Comfortable with clothes
And cars
And such
Who doesn’t mind technology
And doesn’t question everything
And there it is
The rub
The prick
The thing that brings up conscience
With the issue of
Allowance
Shucks
Back to where I am
Go through the eyeholes
Back inside
Deal with whatever
Through whatever senses
For
I cannot
Take the place of another
(theirs is due)
And I have to ask into
Everything I’ve listed
For a better life
And at what cost
Than what
I’ve had
Sigh
And there we are
And I am here
C L Couch
Photo by Alex Perez on Unsplash
Gospel according to for good or ill ourselves
a summer’s day
what is there for us
now
it is too hot
the rain too helter-skelter
flood or famine
for the ground
the seeds
the shoots
the corn that reaches
in both ways
we are
uncomfortable
the heat
too much
the night whose only solace
is the dark
but not cool temperatures
that are not
happening
hottest on record
set the year before
the year
before
and thank goodness
there’s no climate change
and that it has
(thereby)
nothing to do with us
we’ll keep
burning things
beyond what is
suitable
for Earth
sending ersatz smoke into the sky
and the chemical equivalents
dump in water
chemicals aren’t evil
as we know
they have no moral value
as we know
we do this on our own
discover poison
then we use it
to make products
to make money
for the products
and the jobs
that making all the poison
does provide
we need the jobs
we know this
we could
do something else
I mean both
searchers and
providers
we could
do something else
for Earth
and on our way to other worlds
we could launch
in all directions
a fleet of possibilities
against the poison
in favor or
the sanctity of everything
organic
and how about
ourselves
bless the Earth
and pray for it
we humans can
and ask the help of heaven
should that be
our wont
and bless each other
too
as far as humans may
without the sponsorship
indeed the surrogacy
from the Lord
who blesses first
and blest
and should bless or curse
our efforts
as they are
and
(Quijote)
as they should be
it isn’t hard
and it’s hard
goodness
we know it’s hard
to change a world
and severer
in a subatomic way
to change ourselves
the knights are out
(they’re Artemis
and Ares)
while corsairs with full sails
assail the edge of us
while we are sieged
from monsters in the hall
that came
from deeper parts
the deepest parts
of us
yet deeper still
there are solutions
like a treasure
to unearth
and bring to the Earth
starting with the skin
of us
and all our will beneath
new will
(if we will)
not
to recall the knights
but let them quest beyond
to share
their discoveries
there
while we hobbit-heroes
have our work
to do
and bless the work
in turn
O Earth
and Earth’s lord
that has been waiting for us
blessing only in small ways
while waiting for
the rise
of each of us
our families
and the world of us
quietly
yet firmly to say
we know at last
whose house this is
and whom
to serve
which is
the layers of creation
so serve the core
the mantle
and the surface
all the water
all the land
all the creeping
and the soaring things
that we may use
(with water
land
and air)
with apology
(both kinds)
in order to explain
excuse
and also
to define
and thrive
the Earth
is not one
and doesn’t have to be
so many parts
to allow
expressed
yet from the outside
(and the inside
on occasion)
see compressed
as of a jewel
in and of
the cosmos
joining with other lights
both
light and dark
that make the sky
and give us all we need
to dance
beneath
c l couch
photo by Man from Forest on Unsplash
Birch Grove on a Summer Day
gospel according to excess
the White Queen
cried
what is this waste
that was
the Christmas
celebration
reminding me of
Fezziwig
and the few pounds it
took to make
a merry Christmas
for so many
people
and
Christmas is fine
and sad without it
but the point
is the excess
I guess
and all there it about it
what a waste
this Christmas is
and all
that is about it
and
do you keep the wrapping
paper pristine
or
relish
in the tearing of it
into useless parts
and then
with the trash bag
to go ‘round the tree
after
all the opening
is done
and it has been
a merry Christmas
so far
or a happy
birthday
or a Hanukkah
an Eid
or other celebration
of the wonder
in the living
and
if this is
waste
well
waste on
we need such
excesses
for tearing up the lines
the margins for our crayons
time to time
so
merry
anytime
and feel free to rip apart
(with some
small civility
perhaps)
bright paper
even the bag
it all
came in
c l couch
(English teacher notes)
The Chronicles of Narnia, "A Christmas Carol"
sweet-dreaming
why don’t we want
to sleep at
night
why do we ask instead
for one more story
one more sip of water
even a longer prayer
a bit of
conversation
with a grown-up
before
the lights are out
and we invest ourselves
inside
a blanket
and the sheet beneath
but here’s a wish
good night
good night
good night
clc
photo by Anton Darius on Unsplash
(like a metal lion on the door, freed of its metal ring)
the pursuit of (someone’s) happiness
how shall we
album all our finds
as in
what are the pages made of
nowadays
there’s something like the NFT
(as in
“choose something
like a star”
or an “obscurity
of cloud”)
somehow owning
electrons
in a pleasing form
worth paying for
there are or were
the pages made of paper
though we should remember trees
before what remains
is in memoriam
only
we could try metal
though we’d have to make that
too
from the finite things
of Earth
even though
it seems
we don’t mind making metal
anyway
I remember learning
(being shown)
headlines made by water
for a newspaper
a daily
meaning that
I guess
we change the water
with the stories
making
(as well)
the water a fair metaphor
for the transitory nature
of what means
something to us
for the day
also the nature of the substance
to take
the shape of its container
like the audience who
once bought
newspapers
but it is
a finite planet
its molecules
like its days
(to say)
are numbered
I guess the easy answer
is we need more
and so we mine the moon
(mere
rocks were not
enough)
then reach out
toward Ares
maybe taking Demos
and Phobos
with us
on the way
on the way
of exploitation
that is
we mean
exploration
then there are asteroids
of which
the heavens can afford
to lose a few
there being
so many
(how many)
after all
c l couch
an exploration coda
I think we are allowed
to use this
stuff
the stuff of Earth
and as we find what rings
within
the bands beyond
but there are rules
and there should
be rules
and they should tie us
there
to here
by radio
and ethics
both worked into
the speed
of light
and light
clc
photo by NASA Hubble Space Telescope on Unsplash
Frost
the tree
the tree of knowledge
was left there
in Eden
behind the angel
with the sword
now
does all this
seem fair
for what we paid
and all the consequences
promises
of pain
by the way
should we have access
to the tree
or given a seed
to take
to plant between the rivers
where we had to
grow the other things
to live
maybe we could have learned
more
with more servings
or at least
one more bite
if that’s all there was
(and if so
such punishments
for such a single
bite
two bites between our
mother
and our father)
does the tree
with Eden
stand there
still
is it like
the one we’ll meet
in
New Jerusalem
if here
it would be
the first and final
treasure
maybe a good thing
sigh
that as with the garden
in entirety
we don’t know what happened
where it
is
how we might have it
maybe enjoy it
later on
c l couch
Genesis 2:17
photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash
a few poems for Sunday that for some—well, many—is a longer day not by the count of hours (minus seconds adding up toward Leap Year Day) but the clock that reckons with the strings of heart and mind and even metal, also pendula inside
A Monk Still in the Suburbs
Were there bells
I would not know when
They first struck
An hour
So ignorant am I of
The schedule of
A Book of Hours
Matins
Vespers
The in-betweens
And all-arounds
I have books
I can consult
But I don’t have the instinct
Bred by a lifetime
Even a part
Of a lifetime of devotion
I pray
But it’s my words
I read the Bible
When it suits
When I’m needing to find something
Or researching generally
Out of admittedly
A long life of following
And interest
But I can’t leave my cot
Lift up an over-
Robe (a cowl?) to don it
Over me
Place the hood on the right side
Of my head
So I may see
Then scoot myself in
Silence once again
Toward the chapel where we assemble
(peers and I) for
The first readings
The first rhythms of the day
Much worse
Were I a hermit
With accountability
Beyond a bedside clock
Perhaps
Next to which
A psalter gathers dust
But not the novels
Let’s face it
An anchorite I’m not
Nor a peer
For any monastery
I am brother me
At best
And sister me
As well
And if I have a robe
It’s for the shower
Or I might find for fun
Something Jedi=like
You know
For Hallowe’en
But I believe
And I reflect
I study and I read
(with eyes I have)
And pray nearly
All day long
In dialogue
Simply not according to
The holy schedule
Time Amok
And have we
(have I
yes
though sometimes
I tire of I
maybe you understand)
Thought so much
Of the world
Today
A water main has broken
In the town
And we (locally)
Must worry over
Boiling advisories as well as
Promises
Of timetables
And yet in Gaza
A place was hit
A school turned to a shelter
And some sixty people
Inside
Perished
And there’s a push at the border
Of Ukraine and Russia
With no doubt
A pushing back
While Iran wants to attack
Israel
Over the death of one
Of its own
While Israel
Closes in on itself
While keeping allies somewhere
Too
And in how many parts
Of the planet
‘Sides our own
Is there great flooding
With the consequences
And quake
And fire
Enough inside our cycles
Should we add them up
We could compose
New lists
Of plagues
For letting people go
Which is to say
It’s quite a world we live in
A planet we live on
And we have technology
To follow
More than ever
Better
(stronger
faster
Colonel Austin)
And
Hey
The Olympics close up soon
With all the claims for bragging rights
Displayed
And soon the second set
Will start
Impressive
Being second
(they try harder
as I think
Hertz or Avis
used to do)
Goodness
All the filaments
To make a globe into a lightbulb
Illuminating
All that may be seen
Unobfuscated
By agendas that go hiding
Certainly
I mean more than eyes
And also ears to hear
Or counting each one
All our limbs
For those for whom the count
Uniquely
Goes
(as these next Olympic exercises
show)
With what we have
And haven’t
Se may sense
And we may suss
Adding all we might receive
And so
Abstractly make
A world
To fill in with all the physical we know
And thus have
(from inside out)
What in school is called
A worldview
Our sense
(using sense)
Of how things are
And are perceived
And how we are
With these
Weather
Conflict permitting
Maybe we should each
Take a walk
A little ways
Today
To think
To feel
To probe on this
Like sonar
Radar
Laser
Microwaves
To find the Earth
That’s ours
Where we left it
Or where we pick it up
Anew
As if
Regardless of our age
But trying
Anyway
For the first
Time
Speaking for Joel Chandler Harris and Well Me
I don’t know how correct
Br’er Rabbit is
I mean
I read the Wren’s Nest
And I see the photographs
More so
I want to get
The colors right
That Uncle Remus lay
With Mister Harris
Behind
But it’s
You see
A memory
On records
(those flat black round things
we used to play
that have come back)
And we would hear for hours
About Br’er Bear
Br’er Fox
Br’er Rabbit
And also of the Tar Baby
Black
But what do you want for tar
Which is to say
I want someone more
Expedient and also longer than I am
To tell me
What’s all right
Down South
And in the Yankee land
To keep ol’ Remus in my head
Which by the way
He won’t be leaving
Anyway
Though I’ll hush up about it
If I should
C L Couch
Photo by Hans Eiskonen on Unsplash
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