Twilight Narrative

(x = space)

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Twilight Narrative

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Long dream this morning

The kind when I wake

Then fall asleep again

About Bill

We took a trip together

Which we had never done

Some kind of blazing thing

A celebration of

The Midwest

Though we knew each other

In school

In the East

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I got mad

And sad

Because I wanted to talk

With Bill about something

Happening to me

That I didn’t like my life

In Harrisburg

Wanting to say so

Wanting encouragement

Even advice

And he’d said nothing

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I challenged him on that

A while later

(long dream)

And we got nowhere with it

We could perform

But we could not talk

Not for real

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I woke up, realizing that

Bill would not go on another

Trip with me

And that was doubly frustrating

Mad

And sad

And then I remembered

That Bill

Had died

A brief while ago

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My college roommate gone

With earthly friendship

Following

And I am sad

And sad

And sad

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C L Couch

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Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

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Bill liked root beer, Dad’s; root beer is brown and dreams are wavy

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Pointers

(x = space)

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(x = space)

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Pointers

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What shall we say

That life goes on?

It does

Life goes on

As we say a lot

Without the import

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Better over there

That is the promise

There are hints over here

Should we see them

Should we not

Or choose not

They are there, anyway

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Funny thing

About the faith

Almost in anything—

Nothing is presumed

By our believing

If it’s big

And good

If it’s small

And good

It is there, anyway

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Our choice does not affect

Its existence

Or its offering

Nature still spirals everywhere

And persists

In mysteries of hexagons

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Nature does not predicate

Or faith in that

From that

Or anything

Or ask for

Our predication,

Either

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C L Couch

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Photo by Kevin Bergen on Unsplash

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Five in Five

(x = space)

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Five in Five

(memoriam)

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Out, out, brief candle! but

A candle isn’t brief

That’s on us for

A metaphor

Sometimes a real one, I guess

Sometimes the candles

In the church

Are pretty short

And thus available

For show

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But the candle length

Is years,

I guess we know

Three score and ten

In made-up inches

Or in centimeters

Or real ones

(as in church)

To illustrate

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You see, they are ubiquitous

Both real and imagined

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The length may vary

By abstraction

Fate

I guess

And relativity

Macbeth’s flame is undone

Too soon by happy counting,

Not as an end

To tyranny,

His tragedy of making

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But this is not a nation

Or a clan

Though Scots be in it,

Great text

Or a metaphor

(sorry to mention

then dismantle)

Simply a life

As it was

And as it’s gone

Always

Every hour I think on it

Too soon

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C L Couch

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Photo by Rob Wicks on Unsplash

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The Mystery of Richard Bruce

(x = space)

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The Mystery of Richard Bruce

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I think it’s Saturday

The twenty-eighth

I’m

I don’t

Really have to know

The sun is bright

Through filmy

(rented)

Windows

And on the dusty

Hardwood floor

(I can take

care of that)

And, well, he’s gone

Meeting God so closely

In ways we only

Imagine

And how much we do imagine

Is in the books

How much we want

To know

He was suffering

That’s over

I’m glad for that

Though catharsis should not be

The main reward

They know what to do

The professionals

My sister says

They’re really good people

Plus they know their jobs

The government

Has funded a good deal

Of everything that’s happened

Our tax dollars working

Is there one administration

Or another

To approve?

The family,

We talk with each other

And our friends

There won’t be a service

He made that clear

He approved a wake

An experience of drinking

And appreciation

Since we tend to be

Micks and Scots

And even if we weren’t

This gathering appeals

My sister

And her crew

(my brother-in-law and

nephew)

Had done so much already

The burden for

Being there

I guess I can relate

There was a lease

Apartment filled with furniture

A car

All the bureaucracy

That places our lives

In containment

Then the boxes must be emptied

When it’s time

There should be more

There must be more

There is

There is an end to pain

And remembrance

That’s on us

I’m trying to recall

His sense of humor

It will return

His last days might have

Been sullen

Save for staff

And asserting to my sister

He did not want

To be there

Though there was too much

To do

To allow for decent care

Anywhere else

Too much immobility

Too much medication

There are degrees

I understand

I made such decisions years ago

And do not like it

When there should be more

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We’re down

To four now

In the immediacy

Of things

The math is weird

The hole

It feels substantial

Holes should have no feelings

Gaps are an absence,

After all

My feelings are dry and sad

Like edging on a desert

Upon waking

Or simply turning around

I want to feel grown-up

And I do

It is the wake that follows

A wave anticipated

Always a surprise

She’ll have the family in

One more burden

Though I think everyone

Will try to behave

(not a pub, you

know,

though even there)

We’ll ponder mysteries

Though I doubt

We’ll talk about them

Memories might be easier

We’ll look for something positive

Or funny

Or strange

He took off once

And I have no idea

What transpired

I was a child

I guess I wasn’t allowed

To know

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C L Couch

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My older brother Rick died on Thursday night. He died as if he were asleep, and I suppose he was. His last insistances were not to have a service and to have his ashes scattered (not held onto). A wake was approved.

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Photo by Kamil Feczko on Unsplash

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News for the Nichols Family

(x = space)

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News for the Nichols Family

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The attorney is speaking on TV

And no doubt on line

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Programmers await

The bodycam

How shall this be gauged?

How shall the length

Be moderated?

I can go

Back to the local news

While I decide

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We are happy with

The D.A.’s office

(paraphrasing)

And this becomes our cause

Expedient justice

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I doubt that Tyre cares

Though his family might be bound:

If I found a lost someone

In my life

To cop violence

What should I do

Inside and outside?

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This could happen

It’s happening

We shoot each other

Stab each other

Throw other things with edges

Use our vehicles

And we have the officers

Who work out

Whatever working out

With different kinds

Of crimes,

Misdemeanors on

To felonies

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Our felonious society

There is justice there

There is safety

But in an unjust way

They have become selective

While most of us

Have to hope

Either side

Will not crash into

Our lives

To hurt too much

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And this might be the best

Not to get hurt so much

And to bear the scars

That might be

A science, too,

Into lives we only hope

Mostly unscathed

Day by day

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Then there’s color

That could be a signal

For delight

But totems pain and shame

Instead

Is there an answer?

Bring us in

Bring it in

All of us

Every one

Bury our dead as if

Each one were a victim

In a campaign

Like a war

Wait for the war to end

And fight unweaponed

Save by principle

And rhetoric,

The discourse and the common

Sense

To have it right

To have the land and air and water

Right

For life

In praise of sentience

And of consciousness

Let freedom ring

We sing

(we wing)

Let each one live

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C L Couch

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This is the noon hour on the day after charges were announced against officers allegedly involved in the death of (Ty-REE) Tyre Nichols in Memphis, Tennessee (USA).

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Photo by Mr Cup / Fabien Barral on Unsplash

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What Become Our Favorites

(x = space)

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What Become Our Favorites

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We shall turn the page

To Thursday

Inside the good book

Of our lives

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One book

Or many books?

I am unsure

Yes

No

Sure there is a book

And there are books

There is a book

Of wisdom and delight

We each part

Or we each have our own

I like to think we have our own

And there becomes a library—imagine!

Such a thing

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The new page

For each one

Or more

On Thursday

Might be written over

Or unmarked

Waiting for experience

And then a recipe

For those who share

These pages,

After

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Or finding birds upon the page

In the medieval way

We’ll scare up the ingredients

To try ourselves

Each one

Each with an assist:

Success in old

Meaning

In what’s gone before

And also

Maybe only

Thursday new

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C L Couch

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[sorry for the English-only, and I don’t know what’s being made]

Photo by James Lee on Unsplash

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Hour of the Gun

(x = space)

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Hour of the Gun

(I don’t like writing this)

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I don’t know

Maybe killing with a gun

Is just close enough

And far away

To feel wretched accomplishment

And to objectify

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There is blood

Do we know that?

Do we anticipate

A little

Or a lot?

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The organs that will stop

Inside the perpetration

The time of life

That’s ended

Before time

Allowed

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The evil that may celebrate

While there’s scurrying

To get away with it

Or another resignation

Takes over

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As I say,

I do not get it

But I don’t have a gun

Though I have been driven

And I’ve known

That things

Overwhelm

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C L Couch

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1 killed and 7 injured in shooting in Oakland, California

https://www.cnn.com/2023/01/24/us/oakland-shooting-california/index.html

. . .

Just hours earlier about 40 miles southwest of Oakland, seven people were killed and one was critically wounded in shootings at two locations in Half Moon Bay, officials said. A 67-year-old suspect is in custody.

And in Southern California, 11 people were killed in a mass shooting Saturday night in Monterey Park.

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add Idaho and everywhere else

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Photo by Luis Domínguez on Unsplash

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Tent Revival

(x = space)

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Tent Revival

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God of my thoughts,

You guide me

As I’m open

You fill the vessel

Pour it right

Not that there aren’t miracles

There are

You guide me

When I refuse to guide myself

It is the other side of faith

The pledge we made

A while ago

You can guide the pain that’s there,

Which is good when I am

Overwhelmed

Help me, Lord

I’m tired

I don’t know what I am doing

What a good time

For an angel to intrude

There is pain

You can use it

With the rest of me

All yours

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C L Couch

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Photo by Should Wang on Unsplash

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bunny hop

(x = space)

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bunny hop

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it is new year

for those who follow moons

for time

and these keepers are many

and in asia

and in places of diaspora, they remember

rabbit

now,

swift and camouflaged

yet hunted down

with or without impunity

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each animal in

the zodiac

is vulnerable

yet each has qualities

to remember

and apply

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the rabbit is

all harmonious muscle

on the outside

and inside

and on the outside and the inside

it can hear

and smell

and learn much through its whiskers

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bless the rabbits

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yes, they can overrun—the

stuff of a horror movie;

rabbit kill

(term for an event)

like deer

might be decided

so that everything

humans design for

a post-eden balance could

be done

(achieved

kill, design, and balance)

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happy new year, rabbits

and to the dragons

that will bear you

in asia

the pacific rim

new york and san francisco

and so many, many places

all within your range

because you

are magic

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you dwell

inside the earth,

taking care of beasts;

bring one creature

out

each year,

this year we know

the rabbit

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bless the rabbits

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c l couch

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notes (3)

yesterday began the time and the celebration of the lunar new year

there is a horror movie from the 1970s called night of the lepus

the bunny hop is, well, it’s something; you may look it up

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photo by nick fewings on unsplash

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