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
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
clcouch123 
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