The Shape of Day
(especially for anyone who’s disabled)
God keep
Us
This day of
Blue-white moderation
A day for
Breathing well
Unlike the closeness
In the hours
Of a heatwave
I drove
I walked
My limitations easier
For a while
I got some farmer’s food
Came back town
Right-angled through
The traffic grid
Not knowing
Any other mindset
Over the wheel
Set aside
Behind
And all the walkers
On an official summer’s day
Though this day was good
Breathy
Flavorful
Easy on robotic work inside
If in a fancy
Over the life of batteries
I have a year or so
Until
Sources must
Be switched out
But for now
I have today
Before we’re told
The next heatwave
Should arrive
By
Thursday
Sigh
C L Couch
Photo by Matt Artz on Unsplash
The Ascent
Creation
Foundation
Re-creation
What remains the same
What changes
We cycle through
We break the cycles
Or they’re broken
For us
Inventions all around
Adaptations
Also what is newly made
With materials of Earth
Sometimes of us
The controversy
What might we interject
Though we haven’t changed a generation
On our own
Except in that
We have more things
Sometimes for more time
And then fill the time with
Pursuits
Playful
Progressive
Or vainglorious
Are we stages
Phases
Headed toward a final place
A seeing place
A hearing place
A place to touch
And on
Which could be battlefield
Or a launching platform
To meet divinity’s wider hand
As we are
Able
Having chosen virtues
Carefully
And as a better planet’s people
A world
That we made better
Also
Maybe first
In
And of ourselves
C L Couch
Photo by Michael Dziedzic on Unsplash
2 poems about presence
Quantum Theory
God
You are around
Visiting nuclei
Somehow
Also gliding with
The quanta
Inside
Colliders
In the air
Presentable
In earth and sea
All the igneous
Layers
Of creation
Riding the rings
And showing where they meet
Between
Well
Galaxies
Connected by comets
As Hermes runners
With
You know
Cosmic messages
We’re still
Trying
To interpret
So that one day
We might message back
Words that Rise
I am alive
So are you
You might be reading on my shoulder
Waiting for the final words
To calculate
And then
More importantly
Go outside to play
Then later on
More words
Inexorable
For you
Inexorable
A readership
A friend
A nemesis
When
Necessary in revision
Or keep it
To yourself
And we’ll discuss
The other things
Inside
Or outside
Should it be
A fall day
Accommodating
Certain kinds
Of ease
Enough
Between us
C L Couch
Photo by NASA on Unsplash
Jupiter as Seen from the Hubble Space Telescope
Love’s Labors
I rock
While cross-legged
On the bed
I think it helps
To stretch out small parts
Of my lower back
I think
I breathe
Like thinking
I am quiet
Letting the world go around me
While I think about
The very thing
The world
All its troubles
All the better possibilities
With
Faith
Hope
And love
Sorry if that’s trite
As I should sound cleverer
Uniquer
In a poem
But these are the answers
Have been for two thousand years
Reflecting older teaching
And the laws
From Deuteronomy
That now
You don’t have to read
Though it wouldn’t hurt you
(much)
To know that love has come from God
And was the goodness in creation
And the reason
For first promises
Even for provisions when
We were cast out of Eden
Though the sweat of labor
For the man
And the real sweat of labor
For the woman
Wasn’t fun
And maybe still within the garden
We’d have worked
We’d have birthed
Without all the sweat
And all the pain
That we’ve learned to make
Philosophy
And a marketplace
To say that sweat and pain are actually
Good things
And you should buy our
Reasoning
Along with our products
And our memberships
But then
As far as relegation
Goes
Why not accept
And make the most of things
We must work
We must bear children
As we do
And while the process hurts
The product of pay
Is all right
And certainly
What comes with woman’s labor
Is a source
For joy
Delight in the present
While remarkable has happened
Toward the future
And maybe God and angels
Sweat and even
Hurt with us
Through everything
And there are
Times
When it’s hard
When I imagine we don’t care about
Divine sponsorship
Maybe after
Maybe not
Though we could thank the Lord
And the angels
When the job goes well
When a child is born
And for the mother
We work under a curse in all endeavors
Which sounds terrible
But that’s
You know
The way things are
‘Til dawning
Of the new age
When all pain is tabulated
Health restored
Hurt dismissed
And then
All the apologies in heaven
Divine
With what was mortal
May begin
C L Couch
Photo by eze cmf on Unsplash
Relegation
O God
Which is an invocation
We’re asking
You
Here and now
And are we aware
Of what we’re asking
No
Liturgically
Demanding
In
Your showing up
You’re God
And if so
The maker
And the real mover
Of
Well
Reality
All-knowing
So we say
And all powerful
Though
It’s easier
Secular
To believe invisible
And far away
That clockmaker
Having
Made and maybe
Set the clock
So long ago
Then left us to
Construct our own
Devices
Maybe
In our skill
Or lack thereof
To negotiate
Someday
To melt that primal clock
As
A Dali-like
Face-making
That is
Poured over parts
Of a parched Earth
But really
As we do things
(except
for invocation)
We could use you
Far away
And so keep our
Maybe fearing you
Also
Distant
And untested
In fact
Also
With cheek
Keeping your name
Inside our word-hoards
Available
For cursing
Or for sex
(is it
to bless the sex)
So
Such is irony
Such are
The ironies
And this is
Such
Strange wondering
As if to place you in a box
Maybe officially
To relegate you there
Until we need you
For
A ceremony
For
A clean and distanced blessing
Now and then
To complement in
Name
(whatever name)
Whatever ritual
We’ve made
Or
Somehow adapted from
The beginning
Words
So whom
Do we invoke
Just now
Whom do we ask
To call
And through our calling
Bring you here
In everything you are
And then
Even
To sing
To benedict
You
Away
Very God
Or distant God
Preeminent
Out of the way
Again
Then maybe
For an hour
Of the clock
Next
Time
Or maybe less
Then dare
We say
Amen
C L Couch
Photo by Visual Karsa on Unsplash
Spirit Love
Have I said
Something spiritual
Today
Like remembering
“I love you”
To a mate
God makes everything
Sustains
To say the least
The bigger parts
And out of love
That everything
Might be
Saved at last
To everything
Within a land
Where all matters
Matter
And could we return the love
A little
Through a word
Some words
Even
A substitutionary action
Unto one of these
Who are like God
To do this for
And by the way
(unforgetting
in the moment)
To be saved
We are small
The stakes are high
They are
Shall we leave unhinged
The gates of reason
And of love
Or shall we leave together
All the spirit
To connect us
And to bind us
Still
With room to breathe
To view through ourselves
To another
To the world
Screwed up by us
Or Satan
Yet made for good
In fact
Made good
The process
And our process
Reflect
The making
If we will
And if we raise each other
To the task
C L Couch
Photo by Artem Sapegin on Unsplash
One of the Least
I’m sorry
But
I feel badly for
The goats
Though I suppose
We should
Think of them
Like the Dwarfs in Narnia
In the last
Battle
Which is not
To think of them
At all
For their will
Leaves them behind
While we run on
To real
After-judgment
Narnia
But what if we
Had fed
The goats
Clothed them
Visited them
In prison
And was that all for naught
Nothing worthwhile
Investing
For their intransigence
Regarding
Faith
Beyond what was the walls
They knew
I don’t know
Presuming
We who do the asking
Are all sheep
As well
And are we saved
So securely
Well
Yes
We are
Which is not the issue
Being that
Of superiority
Of calling
And of giving
In that
We can’t guarantee
A thing
For an outcome
And
Don’t bother trying
Keep giving
With the basic things
Maybe the abstract
Sometimes
Should the goats
Want
A conversation
I don’t know
Poor goats
I’m sorry
Poor sheep
Too
I guess
For knowing
And for loving
A goat
Or abstractly
All the goats
Matthew 25:31-41
C L Couch
Photo by Devon Wilson on Unsplash
so I wrote about all sorts of serious stuff, then encountered an advertisement with these cats who were presented with the stuff of perfect pleasure, then found myself writing about them and that, and then wrote of dogs as well for ecumenicity’s sake—enjoy (please)
cosmic cats
(dramatic dogs)
1
nice cats
noisy
cats
could be siblings
certainly assuaged by
special cat food
mom has used the last
for them
and they are happy
for the moment
thankfully
dad is at the store
getting more
good food
longer-happy cats
what more
could
pet parents want
2
cats
have a k
and comic sound
while
dogs
is softer
and adorable
both were wild once
and even
now
we should take
care
for impulse
becomes instinct
upon
how they’re treated
so
treat them like home
and they will live with you
and guard you
love you
in their trained
and wild
ways
3
there are allergies
also pills
and sprays
and shots
I was allergic
to my cat
which I found out
ten years into having her
so guess who stayed
she said I could
as well
we keep our pets
and they
keep us
and so the ordered
more chaotic
world
is kept a little better
for a while
longer
c l couch
(our pets, of course, include more kinds of creatures)
photo by Callum Shaw on Unsplash
some poems for Easter, if you will
Easter where It’s Easy
I put things
In small baskets
Left them at
The neighbor’s doors
Came back upstairs
Let oxygen return
To my limbs
(heart disease
not being
good
for nimbleness)
There
That’s Easter done
In some months
No doubt
The Great Pumpkin
Shall return
Oh
Yeah
There’s the part
Where Christ arose
From the grave
Defeating death
Securing life
For everyone
Believing
There’s that
For Easter
Too
Beyond suburbanites
Like me
You know
I could have left things
Only for
The neighbors
Whom I like
Or those
I know at all
But then
I’m uncertain how
That might undermine
The meaning
In a holiday
And then
Christ
Well
That was for everyone
And maybe the whole Earth
And other parts
Unknown
(to us)
I think without
Favorites
Or an agnostic tally
So by comparison
And not so much
Considering
Degree
It might be that
My bits of color and
Artificial grass
Upon which is chocolate
And some crayons
Might be
For everyone
I do not know
As well
And like
The little angel
A small and silly gift
Unto
The Lord
Who lives
So we might live
This Easter
And
Always
Abashed
Evangelism
And how’s that
For perspective
But
I come around
At last
And now quiet
For blue consideration
Of the coffeemaker
And
An hour for
A strange-thinking
Fool
Day One
(for Easter)
And who shall
Shoot whom today
Where shall
A missile
Go
Who shall be dispossessed
Of home
And anything
Of safety
While working toward that
Anyway
For family
The causes should be
Bad enough
Old age
Or diseases
Even
Accidents
That happen
But the cruelty
Of human will
At play
Rendering
And rending
Oh
So much
Of us
And Earth
As if we needed reasons
For our mourning
And Christ comes down
From the cross
To weep with us
To say
Please
I have done this for you
Can you not live
Can you not like life
Enough
To act
So much more
Than bullets
Blades
And missiles
His arms out wide
Again
Over a scorched
And parching Earth
Where the graves
Know prosperity
And some
Human
Secret
Coffers
He brings them down
To embrace again
With all
The Marys there
To help
And the
Beloved
Of disciples
The art of love
Nestled now
In quiet museums
But take it outside
Please
Is his
Command
Though it sound like pleas
Spoken through blood
Toward a forsaking
God
Who never left
Who left a story
And now leaves the truth
In resurrection
For
We could all do better
We could all
Do life
And more
Would come from heaven
Toward the end
Though without guarantee
In worldly terms
(so much of Spirit
and of doctrine
frankly
invisible)
To do this
Anyway
Unwarranted
Without a warranty
Nothing like safety
Like a trophy
On a shelf
The shelf come down
Eventually
Within the ambition of
Another generation
Which means
Our reasons might
Be unseen
Too
To do them
Anyway
Do life
Do love
There
I should be at church
But I slept in
Which is itself
A kind of miracle
At least
A gift
Besides
I don’t know a church
And my hair’s too short
And I’m still
Too tired
My coffee’s warm
I need some
More
The blue light calls
As if I were
At K-Mart
There
My distractions call
And I know it’s Easter
Sunday
And that’s something
Not enough
For God
I guess
And any
Who might miss me
There
Though by my experience
There
It might seem that absence
For discretion
Rather than outright scorn
Regrets all around
Might be
Valor’s better
Way
Which is to say
That I don’t like it there
So much
They don’t like
Me
And so it’s safer here
With blue light
And more coffee
And I could
Turn on something
For a church
On Easter morn
First Family
And what happened
By that morning
When the Marys
John
Arrived
By then
There had been moments
First and only
When the Earth’s guards fell away
The stone fell
From its post
And
Inside
Well
Inside
Where we had thought
Had desert rot might happen
And instead
The area inside
Must have broke apart
For miracle
And cleanliness
(for our
suburbanite
concerns)
Was there a flash
A hidden rumble
While hell fell apart
So great
Was the escape
Were there explosions
Through the night
Of grace
And miracle
Surprise
Even
That so much should happen
Well
After three days before
When all was terrible
In loss
Of death
And cause
And hope
How did heaven and Earth
Play
In that place
That spot
Of resurrection
Of the spirit
And the body
So that the body
Left
Leaving graveclothes
Leaving everything
Of death
Behind
And gone
No death
No need for herbs
Though love had brought them there
And as it
Turns out
Witnesses
Instead
To absences
And then some words
Surprising
And portentous
To all human ears
For history
How love
Abounded
How round
And I imagine
They could play
Around the empty grave
On that first day
In the morning
When all woes
Were overtaken
By surprise
And is
Prophecy worked out
Always
A surprise
A minute
Of an hour
Of joy
And then
The world
Must know
And ready for
Rise and fall
Of faith
By evidence
Of testimony
Then appearance
More meals
Together
Then a risen Lord
For good
‘Til everything
That’s good
Returns
C L Couch
Photo by Peter Herrmann on Unsplash
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