suburban childhood
Saturday morning
cereal
doughnuts
cartoons on TV
trying to forget there might be chores
(we had
done a week of school
after all)
Sunday would be church
and then who knows
the rest of homework
fretting
over Monday
c l couch
photo by Pawel Kadysz on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
Something Borrowed
x
Something swashbuckling
Is on TV
Something with Burt Lancaster
Leaping
Like the lords at Christmastime
I turned to this
When what was on
Intentionally
Blacked out
Indicating maybe that
The TV is getting old
Like me
Sometimes I lose
My signals, too
The synapse breaks
I must
Turn to something else
x
C L Couch
x
x
The Flame and the Arrow (1950)
x
A ball of energy with electricity beaming all over the place.
Photo by Hal Gatewood on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Precipitous Evolution
x
We have atomic bombs
In silos, ready to launch
There is a pandemic
We’re trying to ignore
Despite the rise in cases
Second wave, extension of
The first
We’ve heated up the Earth
So that volcanos and
Windstorms, forest fires
Are all readier
Their unleashing is worse
Could nature ever be
Our friend again?
But we are consumed with
Human ratings on TV and in
Our other media:
They must exist, they must
Be good or something’s
Terribly wrong with us
Though there are better
Judges than celebrities
What shall we say,
We’re living on the edge?
Not of adventure
But of living
Plainly if at all
Yes, I know it’s preachy
But I want you tomorrow,
People and the Earth
Everything that lives and breathes
And maybe changes
Under a too-tolerant God
x
C L Couch
x
x
x
Episodic
A Christmas show
Is on TV
I’m not sure how I found it
Usually, TV is background noise
For my tinnitus
So I may concentrate
On something else
Christmas at the start of June
Well, why not
There is no pressure,
Certainly
No shopping list or
Finding ways to keep up decorations
Six more months
Plenty of time
To forget there is a list
Or lights or fasteners
Once, I heard advice
From a priest
Who in his preaching said
Leave something up from Christmas
One thing
It will drive your neighbors crazy
Well, it’s not Christmas
I have nothing up or under
This is this accident of broadcasting
For an hour,
Then everything resumes
Sixty minutes, red and green
In my culture
You might have Père Noël
Or Father C
Or Sinterklaas
Or a name with a persona
I have yet to learn
I’d better say Merry Christmas now
The episode is ending
I said it
I hope you heard
C L Couch
Photo by Andy Holmes on Unsplash
Paean
I don’t know what time it is
I mean, it’s mid-morning
Not in an hour of
Dramatic dark or anything
The sky outside’s a wash, in fact
Enough light for movement,
Nothing added
But I have slept, at last
And feel the thankful fullness
That comes and lives inside
For a while,
When the right kind of unconsciousness
Has happened over hours
There are images of nature on TV
Some kind of early-winter story
In March, I can afford
To let it be romantic
All the layers
That they wear
And that nature provides
(later on I look;
it’s ten fifty-nine)
C L Couch
Photo by Jaanus Jagomägi on Unsplash
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