Westmarch
sometimes I wish
I were a
well-to-do hobbit
except for
the living
in the ground
even a comfort-home
in there
would aggravate
most likely
claustrophobia
as being carried by
an eagle
would invoke
the other
unreasoned fear I have
but still
to have a day
to write a book
of my adventures
having had
adventures
first
and to have tea
close at hand
with cakes
and at a table
by the window
with my pens
(all right
computer)
and paper
at my side
and on which
I write
(well
type)
and maybe to have
friends
who come to call
for friendly reasons
only
I hear their stories
while
I also think
on dragons
Dwarves
and Elves
and wistfully
believe
I should be somewhere else
with them
c l couch
photo by Andrew Seaman on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
or does it hurt to ask
x
I wrote a lot this morning
was it worth it
all of it
should I ask
it was something
something to choose from
or I’ll have to write some more
something timely
and to share
we’ll see
I shouldn’t ask
but rather keep going
using up electrons
paying for energy
electrically
and bodily
electric bodily
x
c l couch
x
x
photo by taner ardalı on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
As It Is on Earth
x
I don’t know what I have
If I have
Anything
For me
And then for you
x
You might be first
But something about me must
Be satisfied
Or nothing travels
x
Something that could sound
Like a song
But must have sound
Regardless
In a shape that serves
And something of the world
Inside
The world and the inside
Where we live
x
Forgive me
Then
The lateness in the hour
Or anything that’s late
In getting to you
Though we have no schedule
I know
We know
And do our best
To post in blogs
Like bags of mail for ponies
Or task the runner
As at Marathon
x
We send
Receive
Respond
Then send again
It’s all a process
It’s a circle
Sacred
Called by some
And why not
Our gods as known
Believed
Walking like the
Lord
Or maybe
Gasp
Tash
Arrived
x
And in the interaction
All of us
In equal space
If not location
And for accountability
Well
Something holy happens
That is human
Set aside
As well as visitors
To take part
And approve
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Willian Justen de Vasconcellos on Unsplash
x
The Last Battle by C. S. Lewis is referenced.
x
(x = space)
x
I know this is odd (well, odder), but I got hungry
x
x
Portrait of the Artist as a Hungry Person
x
Tired and hungry
Thirsty
Maybe that’s all there is
For now
x
I sit here and write
Distraction
Is a sea behind me
What in the hour
Should I do
x
How shall I let go
To find something
For the cup
On the plate
In my hand
Excused from this
x
To dine
To talk with someone
To play a game
Before returning
To this game
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Juan Manuel Núñez Méndez on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
haiku
x
1
twenty pages in
the need to gaze and breathe out
outside for elsewhere
x
2
city-wise black trees
darkened too the sky-wept street
nature go with tears
x
3
after rain is haze
exhale into clarity
newly gifts of night
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Emil Widlund on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Machine Libation
x
All the things released
On the page,
Admittedly a page of electrons
And in this
There is a soupcon of fright
Over outages
And lack of a printer
And greater thankfulness
Over an awful
Writer’s cramp
That only bends (now)
The typing hand
Now and then
x
There are notebooks, too,
When away
Maybe simply outside
Sometimes they are remembered
With the pens
And releases in our minds
To work another way
While in the nothingness
Of expectation
x
Keep writing, children
(painting
or reworking
the clay of Earth
or off our feet
or work in something else),
We hear her say
And all the sibling muses
With the gods of creativity
From other places
Other realms
Inside the moving circles
When they meet
And maybe grind
Like rims of
Metal upon metal
x
These vie
For inspiration
When we are worth it
x
Thank goodness,
We are worth it
x
And for the media
The usefulness of anything
The service of technology
And pens and pencils
(paints, clay
things we find)
Crayons, when we have them,
With some paper
x
What we keep
What we discard
Ashes in safety
Or simply as a metaphor
For muses
Or spirits from
Other places
Or, say,
Only the mind
x
Thanks, any part
Or anyone
And everyone
Everything
Anything
That serves
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Jahz Gonzalez on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
courage
(compash)
x
the brave leaves
are in fact
leaving;
the wind has done its work
there is inescapability
in the season passing
if I wrote useless things
upon electronic leaves
perhaps my season
will be passing, too
x
it is a pledge, I guess
the old word tontine
a formal offering
to work
to put down
to express
to depict
to make my painting here,
unfit for a museum
maybe for local work
the verses in the subway
a slogan on a placard
should I reach
and arrive so far
x
like glory in the sky
parochial sky
parochial of one
should I hear myself
out there
constructively
x
c l couch
x
x
photo by jeremy bishop on unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Cell Block
x
I don’t know that I’ve written
Anything
I like
Not that I have to like it
x
You have to like it,
That is, with textual
Appreciation
x
Or at least give me a break
To read
And then to have
Whatever frank reaction
If good to tell me,
If bad to keep it to yourself
Kidding!
(mostly)
x
I’ve been sitting by myself
Too long
Writing whatever
Looking up pretty pictures, too
x
I need to nap
Or go out to buy more coffee filters
One task then the other,
Recommending order
x
Later
Rested, filtered
Enjoy a tea time
(coffee time)
Then write some more
Or not
It’s not as if
There’s a contract
Yet
Except with myself, my own
Eccentric terms
x
I’m sure you understand
Defining, realizing
Your own discipline
As well
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by loli Clement on Unsplash
my sister’s coffee
x
(x = space)
x
x
Sorry, Uncle
x
I haven’t
Liked
A thing
All day
Not the rest
That was
Too brief
Not the clothes
That are too worn
Well, in need
Of cleaning
Not the food or drink
That was too sweet
And filled me up
So that
What’s inside and
The rest of me
Are getting along awkwardly
At best
x
Not the words I’ve set down
Drawn lines
Through
Made spaces
Tried to write again
x
What to do on such a day?
Maybe nothing
I can take a break
Some might want me to
For one reason
Out of
Many reasons
I can pray
Prayer is an attitude
Telling me
I don’t have to write
To give, to send
Outside of me
Today
x
It’s late
I breathe
The breathing’s warm
My body’s warm
It’s June
How much more
Revelation
Do I need?
x
Oh,
I’m not angry
Parentally to say
I’m only
Disappointed
Twist the blade
Why don’t I?
x
Well, I’ll pause
And look
Here there are
Words
And sorry for conceits
x
I understand the beasts
In La Brea
Never got out
On their own
I’ll be with you
Tomorrow
Unsucked
From tar
Unstucked
x
The bones of writing down
Enfleshed again
And on the move
x
C L Couch
x
x
Smilodon at the Page Museum at the La Brea Tar Pits
(image) by Dallas Krentzel – Smilodon at the Page Museum at the La Brea Tar PitsUploaded by FunkMonk, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18649097
x
clcouch123 
Recent Comments