Lisburn Road at night
wonder as a verb
to go out there
and look
with the senses that
we have
and think
with the synapse
that we have
about the looked
and also
the looking
to look through question marks
that is our punctuation
as a gift
of moving on
since
we tend to ask
and then go on
for answers
there is a hill outside of town
that I would take
pull over
then peer out at night
I got
to see
Halle-Bopp
that way
and also got
to stand
or lean against the car
too see both
darkness and the light
and then
go back inside
for warmth
against the night
the comfort of
artificial glow
that I could pretend that I made
and whatever cushiony
substance
made the seats
but if it weren’t
too cold
I’d stand
or lean
a while first
waiting for more
that what saw
and sometimes
I saw
with some sense of other
then
I’d write it down
on paper
I’d have
wonder as a noun
and
who knows
maybe keep
wondering as a gerund
something standing for an
ongoing thing
c l couch
photo by Tristen Lee on Unsplash
happy June
happy night skies
Transcontinental Railroad
In a slow place, I wonder
I know, places are for walking
Wonder with an a, to wander, then
But the movement on the inside is
What seems to matter
The value in introspection, of hiking the
Mind on another side
Thoreauvian travel, as it were
I was told he walked to Concord often
From the pond, a matter of some
Miles
Not many
And this defined great travel to Thoreau
Because of how he trod
Through the
Interior
Pathways and passageways
That were of value to him
Through illumination
Pegging a lantern of discovery from
One part of a dark way (now lit)
Into the next
It’s like an empty railway
The bed and ballast, maybe ties
And
Will a set of rails
Then a train course over
Or course through
A plain, a valley, and
A tunnel
Maybe new passageways
Unvehicled
Lacking mechanism
Discipline
No timetable needed
Or requested
Ambling through the corridors instead
And hollows about discovery
‘Til a slide or lack of entryway
Makes us
Go ‘round another
Corner, a bend
Take an unmeasured angle or,
Who knows,
Set up another platform
We go
Out of order,
Unprepared
Or maybe all aligned
To find
Anew
The course
Or, yes, the track
Of inner life
Less taken, maybe
Maybe difficult but
Brave to try
Take it
Like the flyer (Dixie or
Overland) upon the rails
You
Be the kind
That must stop to rest,
Out of respect
For human crossings,
Not to freeze up at
The borders
‘Cause
Neither they nor you
Have to
C L Couch
Railway tracks in the sunset. Taken at Frankfurt Central Station.
Life Goes On
The name of a television
Show, I think,
As well as an old saying
And it does—
Life does go on, that is
Like one, unending sentence
Written and read
Throughout the years
An Edgar Poe-like sentence;
He could write a sentence
That would take up a page
And be no less fascinating
For the length and, what
Turned out, the breadth
A single-sentence life,
Broken up with punctuation
A question mark when
There is doubt, an
Exclamation point when
And where
Something needs affirming
Say, a celebration
A period when things must
Stop for a while, tragedy
Or wonder of accomplishment
Today is a comma
A pause
O is for Ocarina
I played one once
In school
I liked the sound it made
More than the flutophone
And then I saw the
Oscar Mayer truck
And it all jumbled in
My brain
Ocarina on wheels is what
The hot-dog-mobile
Looked like
Well, as long I don’t add
Mustard to the instrument
Whose true child-sound
I enjoy and wonder where
It got to
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