well wishing
(tossing coins)
I hope it is a good night
for you
if a dark night of the soul
a time with turmoil from confusion
or from fear
or from confusion’s fear
more hopefully
or maybe a time of easy rest through
the dark that could go
peacefully
to dawn
or whatever hour
serves
for rising as a new day
for you
however night goes
God is with you
with you
anyway
if
to think on our own failing
actions fixable
(they
are)
and sometimes lovable
from
endearing flaws
we are these wonderful mixtures
after all
are
we not
oh
and if working third shift
then I hope it’s
good rest for you by day
to have the hours
as
impulsive night
and night for all
its goodness
and its call to rest
to you
c l couch
photo by Luo JunHao on Unsplash
when I searched “sleep” and “night” and such for images, the searches came back with so many photos of cats—more than people, more than dogs—which says something about us, I imagine
On a Cold Easy December Day
By the way
I’m this brave
Before
The winter storms should come
Like in the moderating days
Of warmth
From spring to summer
I am appreciating
Even the end of fall
When
All pretty much
Has fallen
Covering
What is preparing to go deep
In hibernation
Soon
And now
Maybe in the midst of winter
With whatever’s fallen
Then
I can be brave as well
Even inside
White banks
Long columns of ice
Along the street
As I try to get by
And don’t
We all
In extreme heat
By correspondent measures
Opposite
The frozen time that should begin
Well
Any moment
Now
C L Couch
Photo by Will Turner on Unsplash
Hidden Ice
Hooker Lake, New Zealand
gray time
it’s late
it’s fall
winter’s rise
a month away
the bears
have eaten salmon
I saw the camera’s highlights
of
bear
red flesh
and moving stream
taking
what is red
away
so now
the bears are done
(the
salmon gone)
and time for the
sleep
of a season
in the impulse of the bear
and the gray comes
earlier
should clouds
impede
a brilliance for a sunset
either way
and then
is
black-paned night
maybe
rest
regardless
after
hours
the next
the new day
c l couch
photo by Val Vesa on Unsplash
Sunset in Cluj, Romania
poppies for soldiers
fields of poppies
fields of gravestones
all traditions
and maybe
nonbelief
should leave a blank stone
with name and
service
on an even shape
I wish that poppies were
non-soporific
although
I guess the sleep effect
is good
in what the poppies mean
for
those who sleep beneath
the flowers
and the stones
and those who sleep elsewhere
for the same reason
after service
after sacrifice
should sleep
each
should sleep
until the final call
that would be
a gentle and firm word to say
wake now
you’re well
and all
now
shall be well
c l couch
photo by Laura M Goodsell on Unsplash
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
(from) “In Flanders Fields” by John McCrae
(x = space)
x
x
monday protest
x
get up
listen to the noise
and go
and this is how it starts
x
a day
in the modern world
x
no,
thank you
iI’ll stay here
in the drab place
and time
x
of dark and cold
of sleep
and safety
well
x
i won’t grow up
not i
x
if you must leave
i’ll stay
x
c l couch
x
photo by eduardo mallmann on unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
The God of Sleep
x
Morpheus?
No, that’s for dreams
I’ll have to look it up
How about the Sandman
For the present?
x
Sandwoman
Sandperson
Spell-check doesn’t like these
But whoever
Might come to call
For some obeisance
And a following
Whatever ritual
(save sacrifice of something
other than me)
To make
To have the next several hours
Gone
To Elysia
Or Parnassus
Where I could learn to draft
With poets
Or anywhere that keeps me quiet
Unaware
In the world
Of you and me
x
C L Couch
x
x
Hypnos—I looked it up—is the Greek god of sleep
x
Photo by Brina Blum on Unsplash
Sleeping French Bulldog in the Sun
x
(x = space)
x
x
Dream Team
x
I haven’t slept
I’m waiting
Any moment now
I’ve closed my eyes
Lain still
Got as comfortable
As I could
Not enough
Morpheus is for dreams
I can’t recall who is
For sleep
Do the muses visit?
How about someone
From another
Group,
Egyptian or
A Mayan?
I’m more than willing
To negotiate
For obeisance
In exchange for
Some hours
Of nothing more
x
C L Couch
x
x
Wilhelm von Gloeden (1856–1931), Hypnos. The title (“Sleep” in Greek) comes from the fact that the boy holds two flowers of Brugmansia (a.k.a. “datura”), having a hypnotic effect.
x
(x = space)
x
x
Taproot
x
The brown blade sinks
And feeds the seed
That was a part
x
Seeds that sleep through
Cold time
Far enough
North or south
x
Something new and all the same
For being new
Will rise in spring
x
C L Couch
x
x
The Colors of Nature Caught on a Hike
Photo by Don Raridon on Unsplash
x
(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
x
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