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Category

Liturgies

The Bridge to Thursday

(x = space)

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The Bridge to Thursday

(Holy Week)

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It is the middle of Holy Week

Who’s noticing

Who cares

Those huddled in churches

Mouthing with the pastor

Liturgies and litanies

All the holy words

And since it’s near enough

To Lent, there might be no

Communion,

Even practicing for Easter

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Some of the fun churches

(there are those)

Will bless baskets on Saturday;

All sorts of folk with

All sorts of baskets

Containing elements for

Sunday dinner

Will be there

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On the Friday before,

There will veneration

While on Thursday

An official working out

Of some kind

For the Last Supper

And the “maundy” part

Of Maundy Thursday

A command (mandatum)

To love one another,

Good reminder

For starting out the Triduum—

Or the rest

Of one’s

Of a church’s life

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But today is Wednesday

Nothing to see here

Or hear or taste or touch

No smell of

Incense, either

Wednesday doesn’t rate

Another hump day

In the USA,

Anywhere else that arches

The week that way

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Calm before the storm?

Hardly

There are storms, here and there

As happen

(one is brewing

outside the window),

There are the hungry

Who need big pieces of baked bread

And safe water

And more-real food

In order to sit up

Straight in church

For the coming days

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Feed the children

Feed each other

This would make a Wednesday, a

Holy Wednesday in a holy week

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C L Couch

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Photo by yvo bergers on Unsplash

Maastricht, Nederland

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Looks

(x = space)

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Looks

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Pale sky

As if in compromise

To give late-winter earth

A chance to show itself

Turning slowly

Into spring

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C L Couch

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Photo by Biegun Wschodni on Unsplash

Blooming saffrons in the mountains.

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Missing Magic

(x = space)

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Missing Magic

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Well, that was a clutter

Messages, groceries by the door

Coffeemaker, toaster

Mail

And nearly all of it

I slept through

Catching the final beep

From the phone

Signaling that

So many things had happened

In my Prufrock world

I don’t have a peach

And the part is in the middle

I’ve only heard the mermaid sing

In the Disney movie

But there is color outside

And cool air to breathe

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And I shall go

Not

To strive or find

Yes, not

To yield

I doubt there will be a grail,

Either

Or a dragon

And if a dragon, we should

Become acquainted

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C L Couch

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Photo by Artiom Vallat on Unsplash

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at the specialist’s

(x = space)

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at the specialist’s

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hot in here

in here

in here

in here

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room

wool

brain

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I wait

it’s not been long

I met two of them already

this is the quiet part

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quiet waiting room

the specialist’s

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c l couch

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Photo by billow926 on Unsplash

坑口地铁站, 广州市, 中国

Instagram:billow926 business e-mail :billow926@yeah.net

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Foreword

(x = space)

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Foreword

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The nuns, the monks

The priests, the holier ones

In red

And all religious

All sectarians gather

As in conclave

Or an untied gathering

In which

To count the final days

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Apocalypse

And who’s to say it’s

Sad?

In the moments after,

There will be denouement

A slide of things

Everything

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Toward peace

In a new heaven—even there,

War have been resolved

The furthest reconciliation

Possible,

Final judgments after

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New Earth for us,

Probably a line drawn

Around pollution

With a prohibition

Understood, agreed upon

That so many things

Will not be done again

In heaven

As on Earth

On Earth in heaven’s

Occupation

With a new story peeled back

From what we were sure was

The back cover

Of our mortal observations

After battles

By the victors

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New story, rather

New book

New storybook

Even God might be surprised

As God is everything

For everything

And we all

Set out together

As at the start of Oz,

After sharing in

As with books

An immortal dedication

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C L Couch

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Photo by 和 平 on Unsplash

Sexu temple,,Shiqu,Sichuan, Ching

Small Lama

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The Loft

(x = space)

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The Loft

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If quiet into night

I send a word or two words

Or more

Through breath,

Then you might hear me

So that we might turn, at last,

Toward each other

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I’d say all prayers are done

Except the kind that praise

And ask for nothing else

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C L Couch

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湖州市, 湖州市, 中国

Night View Mountain

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Further In

(x = space)

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Further In

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It’s a day that should own

A fireplace

The snow will be falling sometime

Outside is in the twenties

And the teens

Inside there could be fuel

A sofa or a chair

An ottoman

Coasters

Light snow first

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Something of a storm later on

The forecasters are not sure

How much

It will finally settle on the coast

And move up

New York, Boston,

Maine and then on out

To sea

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Maybe to an island,

Breathe on toward another shore

That I could name

An island of my mothers

I have not been blessed

To see

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C L Couch

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Photo by Patrick Hendry on Unsplash

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Sermons on Leaves

(x = space)

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Sermons on Leaves

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One bird makes a small song

Unless a condor

Or a million of its own,

Whatever kind

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I’m not thinking of Hitchcock

But of Francis

Who preached to birds

Because humans wouldn’t listen

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In response,

A little bit invested

From each one

Raises the songs of saints,

Reinvesting into land

Then

Traversing through the sky

And now orbiting

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A song to welcome

Visitors,

Aliens or angels,

To Earth

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A hybrid song

Is and shows

The way

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C L Couch

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Photo by Paul Teysen on Unsplash

Nachtegalenhof, Antwerpen, België

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The Winter’s Hermit

(x = space)

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The Winter’s Hermit

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Sigh,

In a hole I live

It’s not a riddle

Not a mortal mystery

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Around me

It is white and brown and gray,

Yellow where the animals

Show weakness

I am one of them

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There is no cheer in

What I do,

As I intend there

Shouldn’t be

I wake up in prayer

And close the day

With it

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And inside darkness

I might sleep

Or listen for the rustling

Of other animals

The Holy Spirit

Passing by

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Or an ancient demon

Haunting the loss of

Following and home

An age ago

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C L Couch

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Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann on Unsplash

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