dearest friend
writing from a land-locked place
God
I turn to you for love
and I bring it
with me
not like yours except as a shell
with hopeful and stifling
stuff
inside
we could walk on the beach
early in the morning
while the same
seems most
shiny
and firm
and we could listen
we could
talk
we could listen
and would you hear me and appreciate
my hesitations
so that what is unsaid
could
finally be sent
and then the day would have to start
I guess
and we in it
though we could meet now
and then
even
on a bench to watch
the beach get
walked on
while
the shore erodes
then
night
and we could talk then
too
c l couch
photo by Ibrahim Rifath on Unsplash
celestial travel ecumenical
the journey crost
over
the bar
a star that guides
the journey each of us have to
take
hoping the water’s navigable
and the pilot
knows the way
and has firm grip upon
the wheel
and can command the crew
both technically and
kindly
then Tennyson has sailed this way
crost to the other side
and
we might do the same in variants of
faith
and transport but
to arrive
to disembark or simply step
from this life into
heaven
or
what you call it
how you get
there
that
we may study
talk about
while we pursue
c l couch
Crossing the Bar
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
after Tennyson composed the poem, he requested that it appear at the end of all published collections, and it did
photo by Gene Gallin on Unsplash
"Cherry Branch-Minnesott Beach Ferry, North Carolina, USA"
Confession on the Edge of Something
I want
To know you
Walk with you
I want
To hear you
Though I guess
I want
To hear you my way
In a gentle conversation
Though we could
Talk
Of anything
Not the stentorian
Some are sure you are
Your voice
Must be
Your posture in
The cosmos
Leaning over planets
You have made
Course-correcting
Comets
For the timing of foreboding
Forestalling barbarians
At the gate
Maybe for a time
And I
And mine
Only a step above
Because
Well
How many of us
Feared for Y2K
And should we listen
Should we read judiciously
Of nature
And the pages
Of our own
The stories that like pillows
We might stitch across
The centers
So to say
Here is something
Please hear it
We might understand
The tones of God
Of you
Early morning
By the heat of day
Or when it’s freezing
In the evening when
We celebrate
Or come to rest
And could hear
If we wanted
Still
Small voices
If like the peace
That has gone by understanding
Like the hare
We could catch up
With you
Not by racing
But by stopping
Now and then
An easy SVE
And have a thought or two
For where we are
To find out
We surpass the hare
Expenditure
Or tangled in something
It could not be free of
By the road
Distraction
I guess
Of many something shiny
So we win
The course
By persisting
Simply moving on
Then stopping
When we need to
To hear
To look
To touch
To smell
To taste
Trying the sense of time
As well
That the world waits
Not waiting
And how about
That spiritual sense
Of things
The thing inside
The presence
The thing outside
Another kind
Of presence
Bidding come inside
The invitation
Made
The knock is given
And shall we open
Shall I open
To have you come inside
To talk with me
In chairs
With drinks
And over time
To stay
So that I wonder whose is whose
And make mistakes through
Fear of that
While you wait
Wherever inside
I let you
Until you have free reign
(I wonder where that came from)
Over everything inside
Even through my senses
Even through my
Will
That seems to be the challenge
The big deal
Enough to have
Broke Eden
Enough to make me tussle with my own
The wrestling with desire
And the fear
Of desire
‘Til I might get that right with you
By you
As well
And all be well
(dear Julian
with cat)
Though there’s that peace
That goes ahead
Of all the understanding
All the limits by
Mortal conveyance
Lest we sit with you
And listen
Also speak
Of truth
And also love
So many things to get right
Even in
A final hour
Thank you for responding
To my invitation
Poor for time and talking space
Only my own
And rudely certainly
Against worldly or heavenly
Refinement
That you know
But we could
If we may
If rather shapelessly
In words
And plans
Get things started
For good faith
And living
Anyway
C L Couch
Photo by Christina @ wocintechchat.com on Unsplash
To a New Friend
You asked me
how I am,
and I didn’t tell you.
I didn’t know
how to be succinct
or how much you’d like to know,
though I have no reason to
doubt your sincerity
in asking
except I haven’t been that well:
I’ve been tired and rather ill.
And the doctors mention,
if only to mention,
the timeline for a transplant
and that I’m not getting any younger,
as we say.
And I’m concerned:
I worry
while living through the day,
awake at night,
half-awake the next day.
Maybe you have insight;
or maybe I would simply like—who
am I kidding—cherish
your responses that so far have been
both sympathetic
and intelligent
as an impressive combination,
though there won’t be anything unless
I say something.
C L Couch
Photo by Mel Poole on Unsplash
the holey week
so this is
Holy Week
except for holes
we have
in planning
certain days
but come by the church
we will be open
all the time
you may kneel in darkness
or in daylight
whatever is the atmosphere
for God and you
to chat
for God will not mind
your mood
or what you have to say
if need be
God will listen
though profanity
though maybe
keep that
‘twixt yourselves
and God will answer in
a away
that most likely
will not satisfy
though there are
instant precedents
they are
in stories
mostly
though
we’ll leave
without resolve
unrecommended
maybe unbelieving
in the silence
that was shared
for God
works in God’s timing
and waiting much
is called for
or not
or something else
kairos
and a gift
we don’t know
how to ask for
and receive
in time
more than we could
ever ask
and ain’t that something
this translucent
faith business
that ain’t a business
but a gift store
without prices
where everything’s available
though we have to wait
to have it chosen
for us
what we need
in time
and we could call it
holy time
in a
holy week
c l couch
photo by Josh Eckstein on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
first poem led to the second
x
x
staging
x
orange-pink
next to the tree
in the distance
deep blue sky
mostly
with the morning star
small and white
looking far-off
nova-like
in the waveless sea
predawn
it’s dawning now
only started
when I looked through
the blinds
hearing nearly nothing
on the street
in the tree
the usual outside
the window
absent
muffled
however everything prepares
so early
for the normal noise to come
x
x
Open Range
x
God
I wondered
If you ever might
Be surprised
Like us
Because you are in part
Like us
I mean
It goes that way as well
Made in your image
Aren’t we then
Like you
And if it’s on the inside
Then emotions
And sensations
Might be attributed
To you
Pleasure
Perhaps
And passion
Love
Even the fragile feeling
And do you feel sad
x
We say you’re angry
(it’s in
our books)
It was the impetus that
Forbearance
Allowed enough
The ark
With some people on it
To survive
The keel-less journey
x
Some say Gilgamesh
As well
While some and others
See and hear
Your anger in extremities
Of nature
(outside nature)
In the storms
Lightning fires
And eruptions
Even in
Quakes
That certify your condemnation
Or our use of land
x
Or that you stretch
Because you do
Your might because it is
Inside the
Cosmos
And must have its say
In addition to
The munificence of creation
x
So if
Everything’s available
Every aspect
Then you might mourn
And be taken
Unaware
Be satisfied
And disappointed
Have a plan
And have it moved
Knowing both parts
Are approved
x
And there’s the qualifier
Maybe
Whatever happens
Happens
In your sight
And your hearing
The smell
The touch
The taste
Of your omniscience
So that
Fragility is held by strength
Options are
More or less contained
And unaware
Might be for fun
Except for earnestness
Part of the plan
Somehow
You feel it
And you know it
Then move on
So you could say
With justice
That you knew it all along
x
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by César Couto on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Three Months
x
I miss my brother
I have no one to talk about
Old movies with
I learned from him
But mainly it was the treat
In discussing
The subject
The people mostly black and white
The fictive stories they presented
The real stories
That they were
x
Older brothers seem to come with
Mysteries
Blank spots in life that stay
That way
Stories within stories
Ways of thinking
That I’ll never know
But we had the sure thing
Of old movies
For discussion
x
And now I miss that
As part of missing him
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Denise Jans on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Starts with a Story
x
On a hazy
Saturday,
We talk about
The past
Long past
How the human genius
And the genius of creation
All ancient
Partnerships
Ask better of us
x
Look at the red curve
In Altimira
I think
An arch that goes much further
Than a count
A quota
Even for life
The lives of
Ancient companions
x
Red and black
Lines
So much more than
Counting
That have ancient majesty
A thinking of high places
x
Pointed Notre-Dame
Or round Saint Paul’s
May rise in tandem with
Ancient siblinghood
Reasons for the hunt
For the migration
After meals
For living
x
For living
x
C L Couch
x
x
The Dawn of Everything by David Graeber, David Wengrow
x
Bison in the cave of Altamira.
(image) By Daniel Villafruela. – Own work, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22778033
x
(x = space)
x
x
Desert Talk
x
A breeze
Does much good
A wind
Is too much
Nothing so severe
x
A breeze
Under the arch
Encourages
Either rest or conversation
Encouragement to think
Or talk
To troubles
x
Or of the wisdom of God
Known through
The prophets
And perhaps
Revelation
In the breeze
Under the arch,
In our talk
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Dim Gunger on Unsplash
x
clcouch123 
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