I talk you talk we'll talk



two poems, again I’m not sure why

(x = space)



Sci-Fi Goats


Goats eat anything

I am reminded

As do pigs

I don’t think goats eat tin cans

As cartoons and other stories


But maybe

Maybe in the multiverse

Anything is possible

A metal-eating goat

On a world of lead

Might be

Just the thing

While justice of materials

Is worked out on other worlds


Not that we’re excused here

We have what we have

To use

To keep

Or we lose ourselves

Without a possibility

Of portals—


Maybe goats

They might be traversing

And we never know






It’s not hard

But it should be honest

In challenging to write

About anything

(say, sci-fi goats, above)

What is the real story?

In not in fact,

Than in judicious metaphor

And maybe both—yes,

Both would be better

So choose the topic

Or let the topic choose

Get to work with

Heart and head,

All the muscles,

All the organs,

All the aspects

(I mean senses),

All the parts


Breathe through it all

Let the apparatus work

Once something is set down,

Go over it

And over it again

(not too many times)

Then release it like

Letting go of healed birds

Into the wild sky

Then let the work

Make sense of the world

For a while




C L Couch



Hello, Friends

Photo by Ricardo Gomez Angel at Unsplash

Glattalpsee, Muotathal, Suiza





I like the process

Glad it’s automatic

So many things can leave the body

Things we don’t need


Things in the brain stay there,

I suppose

We need exhaling in the brain

But we don’t get it

We have to learn what to keep

Up close,

What to file


The thing about a file, though,

Is that they’re not closed

For good

Mental welding doesn’t help


So open up the stacks

From time to time,

Letting air breathe through

The folders


We might need

Companionship for this


C L Couch



Photo by Elena Kloppenburg on Unsplash


Breathe Through It

Breathe Through It


What is it but

The wind,

Ruach, pneuma

What is it but breathing

In and out, back in

And back out again

Autonomically, thank goodness

I’d hate to have to think about it

Or blinking

Or a heartbeat

Sometimes we need a push

And then there’s oxygen

In a canister

If it doesn’t seem to work, that can

Be frightening

After a heart attack, when the EMTs

Arrive or at the hospital,

First thing it seems there’s oxygen

Pressed into the nostrils

Good thing, I’m thinking

And typically there’s nitroglycerine

(now there’s an irony in invention)

That eases the chest

And tries to split the head

Into pieces


Imitations of the spirit

All to keep us breathing

I’m thankful

Honestly, for both

The breath that keeps me going,

That takes me home


C L Couch



Photo by Alain Wong on Unsplash

Saint-Adolphe-d’Howard, Canada


Attending Nuclei

Attending Nuclei


The spirit of God

Moves across the water

In the bathtub, not because

It’s trivial but because

It’s everywhere

Breathing, laughing, cajoling


As a spirit of God should


Present at creation, making

Things happen, here

And there

Inside the tree but not the tree


Taking part in everything

That’s made

And with us when

We’re washing dishes

More water


Water and air, we need them

Nothing lives without them

Except maybe anerobic cells

That might still cry out

From time to time

For a sip

Adding a speaker to

The microscope to hear

For all the cells


For all the grocery lists

For prayer at breakfast

For flat tires and new children

New cells on everyone

Everything that every second frames


Here endeth not so much

A lesson;

Here starteth—starts–a

Day of days worth knowing

Because when we want,

We find

The day and knowing it



C L Couch



Photo by Camilo Fierro on Unsplash


Five Minutes Monday Morning

Five Minutes Monday Morning


Eleven fifty-five,

What’s left?

Coffee made, suburban meaning

More?  Well, make a list,

Check—check the list


How much of it’s repeated?

Breathe in, breathe out

Better now the weather’s changed

Autumn’s here at last, I think

Cooler, clearer air


Or I can pretend

How much of the difference is inside?


But there’s anxiety in the pit

Well, it’s Monday morning


I used to read five-minute mysteries;

Five-minute words—I

Believe it could be worse

After a Few Days Away

After a Few Days Away


I drive through

A steam-filled



At home, more

News of dying


Both by design

And unassigned


I gather in

Headlines and

Their stories


While struggling

To breathe hot

Wet solid air


Searching for


Through which

To inhale

Tenth Muse

Tenth Muse


Nine muses

For the Greeks,

A tenth muse

For Filipinos

And for me

Grace and gift


I aspire toward



If paraluman

Visit and illumine


Then I shall, in

Turn, be filled

With art from


Philippine spirit


I could not

Ask for more

Than far-off


Breathe on me


Word-High July: Welcome!

Maria of Doodles and Scribbles and I [that’s Rosema at rosemawrites] are more than excited to read your takes on the 30 Beautiful Filipino Words.

  1. Write or create a post inspired or about the Filipino word prompts.
  2. A post can be anything. A poem, a fiction, a six-word tale, or even a photo. It’s all up to you.
  3. Linkback/create a pingback to this post: Word-High July 30 Beautiful Filipino Words. Here is a quick tutorial on how to do a pingback.
  4. Tag your post with WordHighJuly, so your co-bloggers will be able to read/see your take on the prompt. Here’s how you create tags.
  5. Most important of all, read and comment to your blogger friends (old and new found, we’ll never know).

HOP ON and let’s all GET WORD-HIGH this JULY!

E is for Erato

E is for Erato

(the muse of love poetry)


We breathe in and out our

Bodies matching moving hearts


Delight in joined revealing

Opened and shared at last


Love lingers, and that’s important

But in this time it’s passion


Sending a siren-song whose

Magic we shall not escape


‘Til breathing slows and sacred

Act eases into other life

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