from time to time
and this is what I write
when it’s only me
beside
the solitary act
I mean
it’s only me in thought and typing and for
no special benefit
I think
though in it
something good or
clear
and both
perhaps
from time to time
and
sometimes
(to
confess
that)
things make sense
after
the verse
somehow
and is this why we write
and
it isn’t but what
happens
by surprise
on that occasion
and as the server says
these parts
awhile
c l couch
photo by Csabi Elter on Unsplash
The Warmth of Light
(light about light)
Am I done
I mean for now and
Not
Tomorrow
The brilliant light behind
Me
Through the window
Keeps on shining
Making
Dust-exposed squares upon
The floor
Which is fine
Against
A social expectation
Light is yellow
It is gold
It is precious as we say
Of gold
Against the grayness of
The winter
And too many days
That do not shine
At all
Until
Maybe toward sunset
When sunlight shall slide beneath
The line of clouds
Before
The night
To make a light-prized
If late
Day of it
More usual
Winter’s day
Rather today and
In
These parts
We have a gift
In part
Because the buildings
Aren’t so tall
And
Well
Because I’m looking at it
Even warmed a bit
By a ray
And you might be looking
And be warmed
Should the winter-light ironic
Be good
In your
Current situation
Otherwise if
Far
Far
South
(not
so-far polar south)
Seek a/c
While some might think
Too
Light on light
To write about
Though
Maybe the proof is in
To read
About
And
I don’t know
Maybe feel all right
After
C L Couch
Photo by Nadine Marfurt on Unsplash
St. Gallen, Switzerland
We Do This
I’m not really satisfied
Are you
I mean
I sit here
In an illusion of
Muscles
And health
And time and safety
To do this
And you are where you are
By
All that you have
And we express
Or try to
We make many drafts
Call them rough
Then save
Them for another time
Or we
Discard
And it’s not only writing
But
A wish for peace
Beyond the writing
Yes
Success
Even a wishing
Or a dreaming
Of prosperity
With support
The encouragement
Of others
We respect
Even
Who give over all the time
And space
For us
Or we keep writing
Anyway
(regardless)
We keep saying
We keep corresponding
And so
Change the world
While
No one else is watching
C L Couch
Photo by Lindsey Elsey on Unsplash
Practice over Years
(makes imperfect)
Silly
Practice
Silly
Bear
Silly
And old
Bear
Retired on honey
To the house of Mister
Sanders
(second S
backward like
Z
or zed for
England)
And could I live there
With all the honey
And all
The company
I am
(after all)
Silly
And old
And have configured
Me
To be
A bear of very
Little brain
Which is
In
No way
The way that I was named
My mother being
Very smart
And who liked the stories
And so named me for
The keeper
So to say
Of
The bear
Rabbit
The owl
And without doubt
The Piglet
Silly
One
By one
No doubt
But we shall all have tea
And that
(without doubt)
Is smart
C(hristopher) L(eo, could be Robin) Couch
Photo by Luke Galloway on Unsplash
Francis and Me
(not unlike/not really like Ben and Me, book by Robert Lawson, film by Disney)
I’m too tired
Got up because
I was up
Got coffee for the ritual
And pleasure
From
The ritual
I’m writing
Though it’s gunk-like
Like old oil
That hasn’t yet been cleaned away
Nearly
Enough
From the machine
Replace the batteries
As well
Or something like
For charge
Get into it
But it’s a push
Against the hours I have lost
Again
Against pre-morning
Early-light
Fractal illumination
I ask
Of myself
As audience
While illumination
Of all kinds
Tries
To creep in
Over the factual sill
And the one
To
The mind
Over the parts
That sense
And I happen
Out of nerd-like interest (maybe)
Or a patriot’s dream
To think
About
Pre-dawn
Near a fort
On a ship
Neither so far away
(to ask)
How soon did he
How soon
Did Francis spy
The flag
Then write while on the ship
After uncertainty except
The fact of
(not a doorframe but)
A battle
Overnight
C L Couch
(starting at 4:30)
“The Fact of a Doorframe” is a poem by Adrienne Rich (title of book, too, “Selected Poems”)
Photo by Jamie Morrison on Unsplash
Poeming Also
A poem on
Anything
Not so difficult
Say
A listing of ingredients
Gives rise
As an epic
Choose
Something else
You know
Something like a star
Track the wording
How shall the phrases
Speak
To one thing
Or how many
Craft
Revise
Get it out
Not
Done ‘til we do that
C L Couch
Photo by CHUTTERSNAP on Unsplash
[next one should begin "poeming also/really difficult"]
The Exchange
A gray day
A featureless sky
No help there
For interest
Or advice
So what shall I say to you
You know
I ask this
On most days
And sometimes
Write into an answer
Or write
Many things
And one thing turns out
Acceptably
I know the first
Judge
Of things
Is me
And I could be sorry
For that
But this is what I have
I have (or have) to write
You read
You respond
If only to react
And there you are
Writing
Photographing
Painting
All the colors at your beck
(for the words
as well)
And you’ll share something
And I’ll
Read
Or look
And if I’m smart
I’ll
Listen
As we listen
And be changed
Life in the blogosphere
Though actually
Life in art
And honestly
In business
Too
We have to find
Something attractive
To buy in
And there are laws of
I understand
Attraction
So there is exchange
And a go-around
Of growth
And opportunity
Back to art
Well
All of it is art
The theory and the vision
Adding the science of
Application
To expression
(expression
crossing
any boundaries between
the schools)
And I guess the part about business
Is a way of saying
The abstract
Is practical
While where
It seems not
It is necessary
As in vital
As in vita
That is life
C L Couch
Photo by Caryn Sandoval on Unsplash
Manic Monday
(and don’t panic)
God sang
The song into creation
The lion did as much
And our holy words
In works
Imply
We are created
We are that song
Or its interpretation
In darkness
And in light
And the bestowal
Of a garden
With the first object lesson
For the teachers
That the garden
Stands
For something we
No longer have
While we must work
In labor
And in labor
For
What we got
Each era is a lesson
We could say
And maybe they progress
The human ages
Which is why
We say
They’re ages
(we get older)
We grow
Some
We adapt
Physically
Some
Though not as much
As one might think
For as long as we’ve
Been here
And this might not be
So much by us
As by
The touch of God
God knowing
We’ll need adaptive parts
As we go on
(grow on)
What do I know
It’s Monday
And I’m feeling existential
With the blues on electric pages
Making less sense
To me
(than could it be
our music style)
Than paper
With its white
And off-white
Receiving of
Our pen strokes
Painting
With black ink
C L Couch
[note to me and now to us
so what’s this poem about?—it’s about thinking and writing, yes, really about both]
I am having trouble with the blue lights on computers. Or the part of the lights that are blue. Or maybe feeling blue. I think it’s both.
The result is that I’m even more recalcitrant in using this thing. This vital thing. I’ve had to use it for a while then rest my eyes. Rest my eyes upon the rest of the world.
So if I’m worse about responding than is typical (and typically it can be pretty bad), then I’m sorry. But as the emperor said quite uselessly, there it is.
--Christopher
Photo by Marija Zaric on Unsplash
Nous existons. Vraiment.
Sigh the Old Machine
(one or the other)
I exhale
Without anything to share
Not really
Not a single thing
(so to say)
But a confession
This is the land I walk in
Today
A land of shapeless
Lack of opportunity
Without orientation
I could walk
This land for days
And come across nothing
Usefully
Defined
And so keep wandering
‘Til shapes arise
Small to left and right
Then something large
Like a statue
In a city
Or a fountain
And I must walk around
Taking in what detail
Might appear
Ask myself
About the sculptor
And the occasion
For such a thing
To rise
And on the other side
After a while
There it is
The tower stands
The phallic thing
To knock down
Then to go around
The ruins
No longer keeping me
From the pleasant
Fecund valley
Just beyond
And
Look
There’s sun
And moon
And opportunity
With many things
Like words
C L Couch
Photo by Gian Gomez on Unsplash
clcouch123 
Recent Comments