the question posed for funding
1
can
poetry matter
to
which
someone important wrote an essay
posing
responding to the question
and
because it does
verse writing
with the verse-thinking come before
and
in the process
is important
otherwise
we’re left with quadrupeds for horses and
also
without
the Pegasus in modern times
and
yet
there are prosaic aspects as well
the straightforward issues
dealt with
directly
‘cause
verse helps with that
even
a genre to it
and though
we’re not the monarchs of the metaphor
we are the stewards
in
the realm of work
with something of our syntax going
overall with grammar in the poem
to offer clarity
agreed
upon
if by a formlessness in art as well
2
maybe imagine wordless
songs
or nothing to impact a speech
with
such as
the surly bonds of Earth
and
so
poetry
serves
with power like jet planes’ announcements
by Mach bursts
that heard
pressing the sky as music invocations
in
the service as
they sounded with Cold War beats
back then
3
to say things without saying
and
to say again
even so a nation might be following
also changing
like seas
rhyme
meter
provide accompaniment
to all that’s
said
addressing the five senses
in
their import
plus all the added senses at which
poems might be
guessing
4
for all impulses
instincts
and
directions over and inside
our Earth
c l couch
“Can Poetry Matter?” is an essay later developed into a book by Dana Gioia
the quadruped for horse is argued in Hard Times by Charles Dickens
the parts "have slipped the surly bonds of Earth . . . to touch the face of God" are from “High Flight” by John Gillespie Magee, Junior--recited by the President during the Challenger memorial
photo is by Marcos Paulo Prado on Unsplash
Prayer in Search of a Liturgist
And if we pray
Should we find a service
Or something
A box
As it were
In which to keep it
Give it
A liturgical home
A formal place
To live
Like a tabernacle or
A reliquary
Or may our prayer
Rise to the trees
And that’s
Enough
Not even to find a nest
But leave the tree’s tendrils
To aim
Even for soaring
Blue then white
Then to the black of space
Or
Un-Claudius like
Might it be helpful
For a prayer
To descend
Into the ground
To talk with
Seeds
Or to the ocean floor
For octopi-like things or
Expulsive vents
Or to go down
To a kind of nothingness
That you are Lord of
Too
Directionful
Directionless
Might prayer go where it needs to be
Where it un-needs to be
For your approval
And
Somehow
For application
Even without much more
Than itself
By itself
To consider
By us
By tree
By space
By Earth
By depth
By you
C L Couch
Photo by Bogomil Mihaylov on Unsplash
(Claudius in Hamlet declares “My words fly up, my thoughts remain below;/Words without thoughts never to heaven go.”)
Unseeing
(for those who nearer wait and might get scared about it)
One of the invisible
Left
It seems
To deal with mortality
Alone
For who can understand
How close we are
And who is interested
To know
By being near
To hear
About it all
I believe
Help my unbelief
This prayer
Should be for children
But we own it for
Ourselves
With or without
Temerity
What really happens next
And why must we
Transition to it
With more
Than
An easy walking there
Why does it
Or might it
Hurt so much
Why is it so hard
Here
To come back
From being hurt in
Any way
Is it compensation
For younger
Sinful
Times
It is a kind of preparation
Rehearsing for the final hurt
When we let go
When time
As such
Lets go of us
And will it hurt
And will we sleep
And wake
To walk
Or will we fly
From where we are
And on landing
Will we have
Such a good time
There
So much we do not know
And maybe we aren’t
Listening
Or maybe we discount
What there is to
Hear
In the rush that drowns out everything
Spiritually
to apprehend
As in
What we may buy to own
What we may have
Or believe to have
And I’m sorry for those
Who do not go so far this
Side of things
Who must leave
Early
In our count of things
Without allowances for time
In satisfaction
But in
Something uncounted
Like
Explosions
Leave too soon
Sorry I don’t take you now
While I’m afraid
Trying to make a circle
Of attention
Out of one
And only one
Who feels
Has lost
The other points
To bend the line
To join only
With
A math of one
But could
Relent
In hope
To see
To sense
To know
To say
I am a part of this
Of many points
And
Part of this
And part of them
With me
The points
That is
Be people
Not of politics
(below)
But of a new
And brilliant circle
As we might sing
Of the unbroken kind
And so I could
And should
Join in
And let the others
All the others
Go with me
Any age
Any time
Or nearly any situation
If I might be
Allowed
Or anyone
To advocate
To join as
Us
With us
Who have
As all
(of all
of all of us)
Come from
And thus can and may
Go
To love
A circled
And
Forever kind
Of love
C L Couch
Mark 9
Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash
gospel according to Douglas
what is the loving thing
to do
what my evangelist friend
would say
as a good question
annoying question
sometimes
even daunting
when we
want
the unloving thing
to do
because we’re jealous
or frankly covetous
wanting something we have turned
into an object
(or an object)
or
(with regard to envy)
we want something
or else
in someone else
to go away
none of this
is loving
not even of
oneself
that does not need the plans
and then the consequences
of success
in those
an ersatz love
a bent love
to be honest
if honesty
be first casualty
in twisting
the better parts
in what we want
what is the loving thing
to do
not weighed
down
except in service
though there's rest
that is
the sleep
comes after
for the day
for the life
c l couch
(Douglas was an evangelist friend of mine who consistently said to ask, and act, on that as the first question or the one to which we might repentantly arrive, later)
photo by Melanie Lim on Unsplash
Food distribution in a pandemic.
published on December 28, 2020
Lisburn Road at night
wonder as a verb
to go out there
and look
with the senses that
we have
and think
with the synapse
that we have
about the looked
and also
the looking
to look through question marks
that is our punctuation
as a gift
of moving on
since
we tend to ask
and then go on
for answers
there is a hill outside of town
that I would take
pull over
then peer out at night
I got
to see
Halle-Bopp
that way
and also got
to stand
or lean against the car
too see both
darkness and the light
and then
go back inside
for warmth
against the night
the comfort of
artificial glow
that I could pretend that I made
and whatever cushiony
substance
made the seats
but if it weren’t
too cold
I’d stand
or lean
a while first
waiting for more
that what saw
and sometimes
I saw
with some sense of other
then
I’d write it down
on paper
I’d have
wonder as a noun
and
who knows
maybe keep
wondering as a gerund
something standing for an
ongoing thing
c l couch
photo by Tristen Lee on Unsplash
happy June
happy night skies
(x = space)
x
x
Talking and Walking
x
Now talk to God
At last
Waiting
With all respect
Withholding judgment
‘Til we’ve had a word
x
This is right
And this is wrong
And I guess
I knew that
Though not always
The particulars
x
Who can see
All consequences
x
And I have other questions
That I mean
Less rhetorical
x
How do I do it all
How do I bring it home
Really
How do I live free will
And obey things
All together
x
How do I think
And love
How do I formulate
A plan for life
Then wait for its
Dissolution
x
How do I say
This is good
And this is not
When complex understanding
Mixes everything
x
How do I live
In this old world
The human part
That has such hate
And hides its greed
Inside an
Annihilative plan
That is at work
So far from me
With those who have
Stolen the riches
Of the planet
And seek to dupe
All malleable
And thinking people
x
Where is the love
Inside the hate
And how do I live
With both
x
That is
How do I live with who I am
Who I was made
Like everyone
To be
And to be
Well
Me
x
How I live
Lord
I do not know
Too many exits
Or rest stops on the way
They are inviting
Too many paths
It seems
Narrow and wide
And in-between
x
Which way
x
The world is too complex
For the simplicity of love
And faith
Maybe of hope
As well
x
I clang my cymbal
Except I don’t
I live in quiet
Desperation
Sometimes
With the age
Also frustration
Remaking tiny parts
Of my world
To say
That’s better
There is hope for the rest
x
And is there
x
The world made by you
We are in your image
To look like
Dare I ask
To act like you
x
Are our actions
Part of our likeness
In your image
x
We make things
I guess
We destroy them
Too
And you have ordered things
Destroyed
x
Nothing lasts that we make
And is it practice
Then
As in
This all being a rehearsal
For the real show
That is
The real experience
To come
x
I should add question marks
For grammar
Though there are so many
Plus implied
And beyond me
And I think you know
Where are the pauses
Where I do take a breath
Before the next
Thing
That I wonder
You are patient
Except when you’re impatient
x
Well
Maybe love is complex
Too
Or maybe its simplicity
Weaves through the complex
Showing a tapestry
In wisdom
Or in time
Your time
For all to know
x
Who knows
While we live
And wait on Earth
What secrets
You might keep
Or is there a real truth
That you keep none
x
Love and faith and hope
There are precedents
And these might be lasting
One link into another
Through the ages
And tomorrow
And in next moments
After this
Amen
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
x
Call the Question
(probably poem-prose)
I’d like the Earth
To like us
I’d like to like us, too
Too much is hard
Around the world
Nature’s parts
The parts we’ve made
And otherwise have taken
I’m still dealing with
Burnt bread
The smell
I didn’t know the microwave
Could burn bread so well
The toaster, yes
Live and learn
That was a mistake
There are things more attributable
To will
Now I’m asking all of us
To think what we have done
And, more importantly, what we
Now might do
Family is trite to say of Earth
Or even us
But community is
Acceptable
The recluse doesn’t
Own the planet
Nor does the self-styled magnate
The deserts are inhabited
Like the city
Different sorts of crowded beings
Finding home
And feeling it
And if we own, then we
Must own,
Which means accountability
We all have a part in
That who can, who is able
How many pebbles, how many
Ponds and circles overlapping
We could make of
Family—I mean, community
Through the smallest things
Each of us might do
Examples?
A pandemic,
Who wears a mask?
Who made it?
I have two masks, both made
By friends
Found out my sister and my nephew
Have been making them
And sending them around
Even ones with designer features
For my niece in Colorado
(they’re in North Carolina
I’m in Pennsylvania)
Easy example, anymore
Factories turned ‘round to retool
Templates, provide resources,
Make more
So that front-liners might
Breathe more easily and think about
The great,
Too often grisly
Work, instead
I can’t sew
But I can cheer them on
Who can
Maybe that will be job,
Cheerleader
And your job is making sandwiches
Or raising money
Or finding stories,
Seeing that they’re shared
Tired of hearing about the disease?
Well, we’re living it
Too bad
And, sorry, not much of a question
No news there
Except to say (and it’s not news
or shouldn’t be) that
Breaks are good
We can have other things,
Of course, and should
Games and walks and making something
Bright
To break the tedium
Or because a lark
Is fine from time to time
as larks are fine to hear
The community needs them all
But being drunk
Or otherwise practicing addiction
Goes down hard
Don’t think of it
There is no excuse
In a viral time
(or any)
Or for hoarding, by the way
Aren’t you sick of it?
Well, hypocrisy is hard as well
I must admit
I have a couple of rolls
Put by
But not a wall-full
Wait, I always have a couple
Of rolls put by
Well, I am a mask
For something else, I’m sure
I’m sure
So where are we?
We’re on Earth
Together, and if together
Has a name, it can be outside
Or humanity
And there are things we need
We can make
And do them
There are patterns that many places
In the Earth (and us)
Can teach
We can learn
We have the chance
If only we can share around
The means
We can make
We can mend
How about it?
C L Couch
Photo by Mike Swigunski on Unsplash
Northern Lights outside of Reykjavik.
Masks
We talk a lot about that here
Which is good, I think—it must
Be an important theme
I’m not sure why I was talking
Yesterday with my brother
About Guy Fawkes
It’s a strange holiday from my
American look—you know,
“Remember the fifth of
November and such”—but
Then, I have “the eighteenth
Of April, in Seventy-five;/
Hardly a man is now alive”
(hardly)
Remembering, as we should,
That Revere had help from
Other riders, a man and a
Young woman
There—I’ve forgotten about
Masks, like the one on Guy
Fawkes (used in V is for
Vendetta), a definition of
Wry, sardonic looks broadcast
Throughout the realm
Carnivals (pick a nation) wear
Masks, as do some super-
Heroes and, well, bank
Robbers, too
Celebration (okay, maybe
Criminality), impression,
Second plastic skin, the
Need to turn away
But I think we mean the
Masks that hide our feelings,
Even our deeper thoughts—
Things that need concealment
And from which we fear
Exposure
Do you know who I am? a
Twenty-first century search
Finds sad response: a number
Of YouTubes (Do you know
Who I am? I’m entitled to
Road rage),
Well-known persons in the
Mind, at least, who have
Declared this in a gross
Way—and a book for women
(And, who knows, the book
Might be good)
But for the earnest question,
We don’t perceive the block,
Which is, we cannot ask
The question:
Masks inhibit the seeing of
Another and the hearing of
Oneself
It’s really a question that
Has beauty; now it needs
Strength
To ask and, on the way, taking
Down—relenting—of our
Masks, souls in disguise
clcouch123 
Recent Comments