here’s a chapbooklet for later on Thanksgiving Day or next should such things be saved—happy day, please be safe (irregardless of the world), maybe don’t deep-fry anything
A Day in the Life
It’s a strange world
Uncivil people live above me
By default
Encouraging me
To be the same
It’s a chilly town
In fact
Socially speaking
We bare say hello when we pass
And most often
Say nothing
Nothing
Through eye contact
Either
I suppose there are safe
Encapsulations
Maybe where
The profit’s highest
Too
Little havens
Barricaded from the rest
From us plain folk
Who want
A relatively easy life for interactions
Not to deal with the wanton noise
That simply proves
We’re here
Against and by
Indifferent suffering
Or prejudicial machinations
A happy holiday
Why don’t we
Tried
I’m tired
And maybe tired
Is good for now
I can’t do much
But so what
The world doesn’t
Turn by me
Or any
Rather
It’s a twirling gift
From God
And maybe if don’t clean
Enough
That only
Causes me to suffer
That’s all right
God loves me
Still
Both ways
As God loves you
Parade Monologue
(Thanksgiving day)
It was okay
I guess
Which is an awful thing to say
I’m sure
All the millions
Of hours
And
Yes
All the money
Too
In hope of celebration
For good ratings
I’m sorry
But it’s an electronic masquerade
Anymore
Pretty enough
Though there are mistakes
Mostly let go
(mostly)
Which seems odd to me
When the agenda
Is perfection
Yet
We can’t pull it off
In
Well
Anything
Pretty enough
I suppose
But it could be less perfect
Less tall
Save for the floats
As in
The high balloons
That seem to have a life
For movement
And
I guess
They do
Though where was Underdog
(supposing it’s too much
to look for
the Sinclair dragon
anymore)
The marching
Playing
Twirling bands
Are good
And should get more time
All the celebrities
We could use less
Of the ones
I do not know
And mostly will not see again
Which
I suppose
Is my problem
In cultural ignorance
But
God bless the Rockettes
And Santa Claus
(pulled by a cool
truck
this year)
Whose appearance
Mom would say
Means the official
(family)
Start
Of the Christmas holiday
Season
And I suppose
For Hannukah as well
And
Is it allowable
To wish for less
I wonder
In what begins
Our seasons of wonder
Thanksgiving Daytime
(in October by Canadians)
Water
One coffee
Then another
Yogurt
Time
I’m thankful
I could use less for thanks
Less noise
Less penury
But we have what we have
The days
Are existential building blocks
To make a tower
Of a life
Maybe a giant
Maybe a forest
Maybe a cover
And a framing for
A story about
Noise
A tower
With a giant
In a forest
I could be thankful for that
Too
And for imagination
Yours and mine
That could come up
With such things
Momaw Again
It is Momaw’s birthday
Most likely
You did not know Momaw
From Tennessee
Life in the Depression
A widow
Then the grandfather I knew
And comforts for
The rest of her life
In the nineties
And I’m glad and thankful
For her
Life on Earth
Thanksgiving for One
(how sorry should I feel)
I have a frozen entrée with
You know
The seasonal things
Inside
And a can of
Cranberry sauce
Whole not jellied
(sorry
Joe)
And
Sorry
Loneliness for a table
On my bed typing
In fact
And here I shall dinner
I presume
With noisy people
Up above
And a wish
For angel intervention
Maybe being tired
Is good for
Tolerance
Not isolation
That
Frankly
Today
Is not good for much of anything
An Approach in A-Grammar
(like a-nathema)
I made a lifetime out of
Getting the grammar
Right
And yet
Choose to use no punctuation here
Less and less
In fact
I guess I think
Line spacing helps
And as a reader
You may decide the pauses
Location and
Degree
As well
And maybe read through twice
Before deciding
How the thing should sound
Which could be an agenda
On my part
And thank you
For not smoking
(except metaphorical)
More so
For reading
Thank you
And thank you
Ms Lamott
Scripted
(rom-com)
1
Hug your mom
Why don’t you
It’s time
And regardless of the script
You should
Hug your mom
In this even-fictive moment
2
Two hands in the popcorn
Like
Lady and the Tramp
With spaghetti
More hygienic
This way
More noncommittal
Too
C L Couch
Photo by Odiseo Castrejon on Unsplash
For Edwin
Evidently
It’s
Hubble’s birthday
Happy Birthday
Your gift
To us
Rendering so many things
More clearly
Maybe our gift
To you
Our continued faith
In the sky
World Children’s Day
Today
As well
If we remember taking boxes ‘round
With
Trick or Treat for UNICEF
Collecting quarters
Then millions of quarters for
The cause
The cause of
Children
Need we say it
Though we forget
We adults
Forget
Leaving children inside schools
Or not counting them at all
(beyond
certain
grids)
Until they’re grown up
Into rivals
For our power
For our love
In the mean time
They are forgotten fodder
Uncounted
In the strategies for
War
Women and children
We still say
Which
Didn’t work
On liners
Any more than battlefields
Inside
And in back of
Loss
Hunger
And
Disease
And worse on them
Than on
The older us
Which we older ones might not
Want
To believe
Even though
The wretched things attack
Hope
In the young
As well as young awareness
Okay
We’ll say
And even mean
They are precious
And
They are our future
And they are precious
And
They are our
Present
Last Work of the Day
I think
Not of life
But
To move on a little
Unzip the sweater
Change
The shoes
And leave the make-believe
Awhile
How about
As is supposed to happen
We take the feeling of the sweater
The softer shoes
And
Made-up imagination
With us
Then meet
With feathered insights
Muscled inspiration
On
As has been said
The morrow
C L Couch
Photo by Lawrence Chismorie on Unsplash
Alexander Calder, the sculptor/mobilist whose work is featured here (in Switzerland), constructed a mobile for the children of Pittsburgh, which floated near the entrance to the Carnegie Museum—a favorite thing for me, when a child, to behold
Pittsburgh references to Mister Rogers, too
2 poems about thoughts and feelings post-election
About Electing Lies
Well
I am disappointed
So I guess
If I’m convicted of
Many crimes
And I’ve committed fraud
And broken promises
In marriage
And other relationships
So that
In fact
I break faith with everyone
And if I do not pay my bills
And if I want
To accuse people I’m afraid of
Of everything that isn’t
True
If I make a style
In fact
Of lying
And don’t pay my bills
And
By the way
I take everything that’s wrong with me
And say it is another’s
And not me
Though
It is
All I have to do
To get away with
All of it
Is to run for President
And get billionaires
To buy my way
For
Their own
Agendas
The same folk who
By the way
Won’t welcome
Me at
Table
Otherwise
It’s 17 June 1972
Another
Day the music died
And what we learned but that
We cannot
Trust the government
And should stay away from
All such things
And have
So much easier living
Through
Indifference
The Topsy-Turvy that Has No Playfulness in Topsy-Turvy
There are those
Who learn about the Holocaust
And take notes from
The evil side
So that the lie might be acknowledged
That some good things
Happened
Then
In Germany
Not
To say we can’t be academic
Though the filter must be moral
Or we are pursuing nothing
Human
Or has a place
On righteous Earth
We should be
Rhetorical
Understanding something of
Our honest discourse
With each other
And
We should study flaws in that
Tradition
You know
Straw people
Post hoc propter hoc
Gilding the lily
Though
Again
The point is not
To strategize to use the flaws
To dupe each other
Though
Some will
It’s
Sad to know
And one more thing
That should be
And that isn’t
Is that
Politics
Means good government
You know
The pursuit of by the people
And yet
Like taking notes
From the wrong side
And
Going for the
Discourse flaws
Not
To mention
Spewing accusations
In
A puerile attempt
To escape one’s
Own
The codes we could live by
Like good governance
And topsy-
Turvy
Fun on Ferris wheels
But good and evil upside-
Down to try
For ways to live
Simply act against
The deeper
And the shallower things we
Really know
Those presuming leadership who
Act against all virtue
And all wisdom
Though
Might
Try hollowly
Merely to use the worlds
Invite the citizenries
And
Congregations
To subscribe to indifference
To endure
C L Couch
(sorry should there be any ranting parts but not sorry for any easier-living-wisdom parts)
Photo by Mika Baumeister on Unsplash
Long Exhale Now and Then
Exhale
And then a little more
Get it out
Whatever it
Might
Be
More than
A pulmonary test
Or getting the bad air out
As
In a cartoon
Getting into meditation
Only if
There is
The time
Otherwise
Breathe out
As
You would have to do
Anyway
You know to
Keep on living
But let it out
A little more
Not as an exercise
As much
As to
Let a little more
Of the bad air
Out
The promise also
Taking of
A little more
Of the good air
In
By God
In a kind of sponsorship
And also of companionship
Two promises
Not if
But as
They happen
Irascible
Indelible
Perfection in divine reality
As well as perfection
In the offing for the rest of us
Maybe
Beneath the angels
(the war in heaven notwithstanding)
For the mortal
Rest of us
C L Couch
Photo by Laura Ohlman on Unsplash
(haiku for fall, starting in a grumpy mood, I guess)
(1)
well that’s enough of
haiku play and fancy with
no work proof for pay
(2)
the hour is done now
leaves have fallen into water
growing into green
(3)
old and new worlds tilt
leaning could be tree-delight
as dancing solstice
(4)
water purify
as on our other planets
with true air command
c l couch
photo by Mathias Reding on Unsplash
I don’t know, a sentimental Friday? Cats and new seasons—well, please enjoy!
The Cats of Reykjavik
They wander
Like the wanderer
Singly
Sometimes together
They are sheltered
And presented at
The cat café
In town
There are thousands
They are welcome
All around
Like elves
And horses
And like these
Protected
Through acceptance
Also magic
And folklore
For there is a Christmas Cat
That urges you to
Shop for clothing in
The season
Otherwise be caught with old
And should the Christmas
Cat
Encounter you
Will eat you
(I’m thinking
worse than
Krampus)
(reacting to a souvenir and a little looking into it, into them, having Facebook and Instagram pages, by the way)
Come Fall Come Spring
As the new seasons
Approach
Fall in the north
Spring to the south
I hope you appreciate
The change
The opportunity
Encouraged
To think a little differently
Should it be time for
A different thought
A different way
Of thinking
Maybe
Allow yourself the chance
As might
Sweeten many things
Like autumn apples in the north
And full flowers to
The south
In the offing
Are new things
For new-ish people
Approach with care and yet
Approach
There are new colors
And new flowers
For you
C L Couch
Photo by Manny Moreno on Unsplash
(a cat of Reykjavik)
2 poems about the will of God
Last Will and Testament
My will
Then yours
I mess things up
Then turn to you
It’s a formula
I guess
Like knowing what I want Scripture to say
Then going to it
Shaking the Magic 8-Ball
Many times
Until it says
What I want it
To say
Doesn’t make much of a God of you
Which is a really stupid way
To think and act
Before a God
But you withhold
It seems
Act in return
With anger that is intimate
And telling
In that way
Though sometimes in the actual storm
That no one saw coming
As a penalty
And sign
Remembering at Last
I’m tired
I want
To write some
More
Without a thing to say
Meaning I want
To write
And have nothing
To say
That God is good
And loves you so much
That God is true
In being real
And being faithful
Perfectly
For you
Well
Out of nothing
That is a great deal
And the great deal about the Lord
Is simply to believe
And that is all
Something called grace
Free and easy
(always free
sometimes not easy)
Does the rest
And we shall meet
Where love has made a place for us
Just outside of Eden
With the angel
This time
Setting down the sword
Letting the fire go
To let us in
C L Couch
Photo by andrew solok on Unsplash
2 poems about the day
Fish Fry
(check the shape of stanza'd, ichthus undulation)
Friday
Fry day
Fish fry day
At the Catholic church
For penance
I suppose
Though the is
So much
One can’t complain
Of abstemious devotion
And the money
Should go somewhere
Good
And we Protestants
Can enjoy that
Too
Should we think on it
While crunching into fish with
Whatever else
Is
Provided
Yay
Catholics
Thank you for
This weekend treat
You all
Have
A great weekend
Too
After all the cooking
(the worry over getting
burned
while frying)
And all the cleaning
That frankly
We did not
Have to do
Though when it’s our turn with
A rummage sale
We’ll clean up
Afterward
For you
Thirteen O’Phobia
Today is Friday
A thirteenth
Sorry to
Triskaidekaphobes
Watch out
Black cats
They’ll be avoiding you
Which now I think it
Might be the quite suitable
Arrangement
And ladders
Mirrors
Sidewalk
Cracks
Salt containers
All the things that make
This day less
Amenable
And it’s the number
Generally
As well
The lack of such in buildings
Even
Now
And what was it
Crucifixion on a Friday
Or the barbaric
Gory dissolution of the Templars
On a Friday
Thirteenth
Early in the fourteenth century
(1307
look
another thirteen)
And Judas killed himself
Maybe on that
Friday
Being the thirteenth disciple
(once removed)
In some lore
But for me
And maybe I should apologize
I often
Find
The day goes very well
Which might be
Determination
Or
Luck
Half-Irish luck
For my mother’s family
While on my father’s
Side
There are the English
Who most likely
Do not care
About the day and
Date
As long as the flag is flying
Somewhere in a
Time zone
Over Earth
C L Couch
(9/13/2024)
Photo by Zoltan Tasi on Unsplash
Matthias, Paul, Judas—who is the thirteenth disciple/Apostle? (Rhetorical question--depends on whose tradition's answering.)
2 patriot verses
Patriot Dreams
I love my country
Though sometimes
It’s hard
To recognize
For violence
Yes
Also disorder
In the halls of politics
And justice
It seems that we all
Lean
Maybe time
To say so
And admit we can do better
Be larger
Than one interest
So to legislate
Even to judge
I am this
And I am that
My group is this
But I can care
Bigger than
That
And must
To make intact
And keep intact
The nation
From the privilege of chaos
And the run of evil
Ripping through
Any sense
Of unity
Faltered
Flawed
We can do better
Larger
Though the irony must be
That patriot feeling
And intent
Be shown in smaller
Ways
The things of families
And of neighborhoods
Leave me alone
Should not be our working words
Not since
We thought
To work out something
‘Gainst an empire
Knowing that
Solitary items matter
As matter
Individuals
Remember
Though
That birthing seems
Separate
But by necessities
Is actually conjoined
That dying
For some choices might be
Shared as well
That we are in our skins
And inside
Our interests
But we do better
Not for
Groupthink
But when we work it
Healthily
Together
By “patriot dream”
(ethereally good)
We may try
(waking
hale)
Vision
Turned like
Named and unnamed blocks
Into
Democratic strategy
And our
Republic’s practice
God save America
All Americas
And both hemispheres
A planet
Nation
For with reason
Any people
In
The world
May
Build this
Choices in smaller things
The easy things
Be easy
While we also have the larger
And complex
Thus
Vote for
Service
For security
Love of nation
Love of home
Families reconstructed
In any number
Blood
And also water
Both safely
Required
We share
The nation’s business
While invested
In
Our own
The larger one
Be ours
Indifferently approached
Perhaps
(check voting
statistics
far as well as near)
But we live on the promise that
We make this
(large
and small)
Our own
Sustaining it in
Quotidian
As well as come-November ways
C L Couch
Photo by Sardar Faizan on Unsplash
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