I talk you talk we'll talk


September 2016

La Alhambra

La Alhambra


Space and light

In Arabian style

Arches keeping water


Against an unfolding

Desert view

A perspective that

Lasts for an age, even

As webs of dusted


Accumulate beneath


It persists, this

Gaze, in the mind

Of romance and an




With insights into all

The infinities we are

Our Many Faces

Our Many Faces


Aleppo, yes, I know


Sounds like a sixth

Marx brother from




But children die there

From what war takes


Which is all right

Since we don’t value

Children, anyway:


If we did, we’d see

They were not shot

And killed, they never

Suffered in want

Of food or a good



We’d value them like

Prizes won in the

Most precious bingo

Game or ski-ball


We’d sit with them,

We’d watch them eat,

See that they are

Clean inside and out


And have temerity

To ask for help when



We’d celebrate the

Family that we are

Part of, even if we’re

Not their parents


Because in the most

Worldly way we are


We’d say, it’s for the

Children; and we’d

Mean it


We’d change

Everything to have

Them safe and well

And jiggly playful at



We’d do the world

Right this time


C L Couch

When an Angel Calls

When an Angel Calls


Come with us


But we’re leaving now

I look back at my life

And all the ways that

Disappointment hurt me


But it’s what I know

Patterns, shapes, texture,

And designation


I hesitate too long, I think

I look back once more

Then look ahead

Wait! I’m coming to you


C L Couch




Two o’clock

I should be sleeping

Too often I awake


Pain drives, so does

Want and dream

And vision


I write I dream I

Play inside my heart


I hope for what is

Better than I have,

More than I



It’s how I dream,

I think


Wish and in a

Kindly boxed-in



(That often I

Don’t understand)


Forget what

Drove me from my





If I go anywhere

I will look down and say,

The raindrops puddle here

As well


I will breathe what I

Know to be the same

Air molecules from home

Earthy currents being

What they are


The same clarity exists

Even the smells,

And I will welcome expressions

That show the same face

I find in my

Immigrant land


UNICEF: Half of All Refugees Are Children

UNICEF: Half of All Refugees Are Children

(headline for news story of the fact)


E stands for emergency

F for fund


And the C—well, that’s

For the halves of us


Our own,

Who deserve innocence

In which to incubate


Play and siblings whole

On learning rolls


Harmed only through

Mischief cared for

In embracing arms


Rob these ones of life

When you die

They will inherit

And make a world

As hate-able

As they find


When we treat them


And on

the altars

of the world



UNICEF: Half of All Refugees Are Children

Autumnal Oracle

Autumnal Oracle


Eating soft candies,

Scary pre-season


These are, well, all

On sale too early


Shapes of ghosts

And bats, since

Hallowe’en creeps

In from weeks



I want rehearsal


Practice of time,

A witch-spell nearly

Ready to be cast


Haunting for a

Fool, the wise

Child’s knowing

Fear for shapes


Of story’s eyes in


Branches made of

Arms of spikes


That reach down

Toward me


I treat myself to

A bargain invocation,

Reviving the thrill


Of a house of wraiths

Night-dark on

A bright horizon

One One September

One One September


It’s September, soon enough becomes September eleven nine-One-One used in mockery of our emergency-numeral series one plane crashes in my state; I’ve been driving by the site as it’s reclaimed

Remember, remember, eleven September—maybe we’ll be Singing that someday; not yet for the hurt only begins in telling launched a war already waged elsewhere: rightly or wrongly, it’s mattered in a vital way since then—we know the cost of some complacency, and maybe one day we’ll move on toward waging peace that has been paid for in a cost of surprise and blood broken bone and steel, symbolic of a need to fix our raging planet

Inside Total Turmoil

Inside Total Turmoil


well, it’s closed


the school is closed

and will not reopen


another one dies,

so what


capitalism’s cost


risk in investment,

hoped-for profit

returned plus


much, much more


except currency

was learning and

has now been



fortunes expended


for the price of



were wrong

things misdirected

done? most likely—

but that is


nothing to do

with me or mine,


whose goodness

is now out of

pocket, too


I trust only from a

flattened place


learners will see

new direction:


fair winds, then, all

whose needs must



cool water on

another side, all

who thirst




(the school where I taught has closed—anyone knowing of a job for a used English teacher or

religious educator, well, maybe you could please let me know)

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