Bona
I hope you’ve had a good
Day
And I hope tomorrow is good
For you
Too
You’ve been deserving of this kind
Of time
I don’t know
If
It will be easy
You
Might have to work
And work is hard
You might
Have relationships attending
You might be inspired
Or
Reinforced
By
Spiritual truth
Maybe a presence
But for all the mights
I hope it is
And will
Be
Without doubt
A good
Day for you
I don’t think I’ve said this for a while
If not
Please pardon
Me
S’il vous plaît
C L Couch
Photo by Àlex Rodriguez on Unsplash
“Nice Game”
Fontcoberta
(Esperanto)
have or have not
yesterday we have
in pieces
today is a whole thing
from now to now
confusion
when we’re tired
or bemused
notwithstanding
leaving the partial thing
like yesterday
tomorrow
also
in pieces of
guesswork
and expectation
well
the wind outside
is blowing thoroughly
on the branches
and I’m pretty sure
it’s cold
from the time
and the narrative
of
the season
what we have
is what we have
and what we know
we know
and I’m thinking that
control
profit
agendas
that are hidden
really don’t help this moment
that we have
and to expect
though it’s honestly a mystery regarding
next
but mysteries
have joys
if we allow
and maybe disallow
the heavy things
that
keep the letting go
down
and
down
as if
to Goblin-Town
or worse
only shadowy things for real
we think
we have to own
and wield
to own
c l couch
title swiped from Hemingway—an homage of, I mean—who might have swiped it—been inspired—from Ecclesiastes, Donne, or a sociologist
[sociology about the haves and have-nots]
yesterday’s image was of a bridge at or in New Orleans, picked because of the city and the recent tragedy occurring there (plus bridge as a metaphor)
photo by Jakub Żerdzicki on Unsplash
“Hand holding keys to a new house. Real estate residential.”
(x = space)
x
x
Tune in Tomorrow
x
I’m not smart;
I don’t have a smart phone
Or a smart house
Or a smart life
x
I use the ticking of a clock,
Not an association,
Other wind-up ways
And, yes, electron ways
To note
Time passing
As it does
In society
x
My books do not have faces
(not meaning the clock)
Though they do have bindings
For clarity
In anticipation
x
They have tropes and memes,
I’m sure
x
This will be changing
Naturally,
Technologically, enough
x
My cars have had computers
For a while
And I still like the lure
Of robots’ walking service
And companionship,
Of a jetpack set upon my back
So I may fly over
Land and water
And through clouds
Of other worlds
x
Childhood’s end,
Mister Clarke,
And childhood’s dreaming
With all the songs
I used to listen to
That would resonate
With or without volume
Later on
x
Things change
x
Some things fall apart,
Sometimes the center:
The poem and
The novel know this,
Through our
Participation
x
Some remains
(some remains)
On the edge
Like samples in a centrifuge
Or in the washer after
Machinic wringing
As a body might wring something
Autonomically
(or for the therapist to say)
x
Memories,
Some items
Metaphors
And totems
x
Worn wires
And connectors
Old, most likely small
Machines
x
Storied threads
Kept in shadowed places
Until the knob is turned,
The door opened
x
The wires, threads, and all
Intertwine
In our own alchemy
Into today
With new things,
Many things
Applied
x
All mix
Then when done
Can sough and sigh
Into the future
x
Terms and
Formal understandings
Are better for tomorrow;
Today is for the
Result of threading
Into compromise,
Often astounding,
Of things good,
Some bad
Things tested,
Some waiting to be tried in
The world
Or safe at home
x
I’ll tell you things
And will you tell me, please?
That will be star-stuff
Mister Sagan,
Ms Druyan
x
On Earth
More locally for now
A charm, token, song today, tomorrow–
Story-stuff
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Alberto Bobbera on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Native American Heritage Day
(26 November 2021)
x
Hundreds of years
And last year
Too late
And, no, first families
Weren’t always good
With each other
We’re not celebrating
Perfection
We’re hedging against
Annihilation
So much more is needed
Against the situation
Mostly
Whites have caused
x
Is there hope
On reservations,
The better land having been
Cheated away?
I don’t know—do you?
Real homes for real people
Real lives
Real race
To stand alone
Or add into the melting pot—that’s
Self-determination
x
Give us a day
But we’ll need tomorrow, too
x
C L Couch
x
x
Six panel high resolution mosaic of the Cygnus region from the Butterfly nebula to the Crescent nebula. 3 hours of integration for each panel from a dark sky location in Spain. Zoom in for details in the various regions.
Photo by Aldebaran S on Unsplash
x
A Game
There is a game
To play now and then
It’s called the future
Something blank is all that’s needed
Not even paper
An open book
Or tabletop will do
But keep it empty
Then place a thought inside
And then another
You will lose your way, and that’s all right
You’ve won by then!
Maybe play again
Or realize
Tomorrow
C L Couch
Photo by Wolfgang Rottmann on Unsplash
Reading the Next Day
Going back to reading what
Was written
Sometimes there’s little sense
Like looking back on doodles
Or freewriting
Looking back on other things
That’s harder
Talking with fewer people in old age
Means less chance for faux pas
Or maybe it’s reclusion
Only
I don’t need a bigger pile
Piling in the in-box
Who does?
I go back to what I read
Having picked it up in the middle of the night
Because I wasn’t sleeping yet
And a story called
(I’m not sure who was more at fault)
When I return
Will I be welcome?
Will I be welcomed again?
I mean, yes, I bought the thing
But there’s more
An invitation
Riding like the girl who
Delivered most of the news
From Paul Revere
The book is here:
Will I take the message?
Will I accept responsibility for
Interpretation, then dissemination
Throughout the land?
You see, clearly there are questions
And there’s pressure
A lady or a tiger
Re-reading yesterday’s
New pages
In new hours
And then there’s what I’ve written
C L Couch
Photo by Prasanna Kumar on Unsplash
Besant nagar beach, Chennai, India
Books, most loyal friends.
If true, Ludington’s story puts Revere’s to shame, writes Valerie DeBenedette for Mental Floss. She “rode twice as far as Revere did, by herself, over bad roads and in an area roamed by outlaws, to raise Patriot troops to fight in the Battle of Danbury and the Battle of Ridgefield in Connecticut,” DeBenedette writes. “And did we mention it was raining?”
https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smithsonianmag/was-there-really-teenage-female-paul-revere-180962993/
haiku
(stand alone or maybe work together)
Today is what I
Have. Tomorrow is far off.
The wind will take me.
I’d rather have the
Cool breeze and warm air to take
Me to tomorrow
Will you join me in
Tomorrow? We’ll need each other’s
Company today.
C L Couch
Dirk Ingo Franke – Own work, CC BY-SA 2.0 de, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2355854
Buller, Erin (11 July 2008). “Capturing the Wind”. Uinta County Herald. Archived from the original on 31 July 2008. Retrieved 4 December 2008. “The animals don’t care at all. We find cows and antelope napping in the shade of the turbines.” – Mike Cadieux, site manager, Wyoming Wind Farm
Something for Tomorrow
Some things are pithy
Some things are brazen
Some things are refined
Some wisdom is succinct
(though philosophy is not)
Don’t cry into your beer
Unless you want the taste;
Spitting into the wind
(as Croce advises)
Has the same problem with
A taste of something awry
(and maybe disgusting)
Love as if it were tomorrow
A gift set on your step today;
Find the joy,
If any joy be had
Endurance, if that’s all there is to have
Time is a possibility
(and love always a reminder)
C L Couch
https://pxhere.com/en/photo/789929
CC Public Domain
Before the Formal Feeling
When there’s pain,
Everything enwrapped that might be good
‘Til sight is pushed down toward the ground
And placing arms around
Takes nothing but
Dust and air
And ashes that rise to sting the face
And render bitter tasting in the mouth
What then is left
That’s hale or promising
The hope of life for
Tomorrow or even in time that remains today
I think I’ll have the drink that bites
And chew on some bread that’s burnt:
Salt and ashes
Herbs that sting,
Spells of ordinary stuff
Quotidian magic
The miracle in the day might be a breeze;
Some of the dust of flesh
Cobwebs
Might rise off the nightmare,
Lets gazing up to see some yellow light
Falling on new leaves
Caught in early spring
First breaths upon the earth
C L Couch
clcouch123 
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