I talk you talk we'll talk




(x = space)





God’s will

I treat it like a puzzle

A mystery

A riddle


The prize

For being smart enough

For endurance

For cleverness I don’t really possess

Is success and later on


I win at last


Except I think, liturgically,

That the truth is not in me

Or anyone who thinks and contrives

Philosophy this way


God is not a puzzle

(I like puzzles

and I hope you do)

There is a clarity

Like the still waters

God takes us beside


To point out the deep parts


Skywriting isn’t necessary

(relief for Dorothy)

Read the code for life inside the books

Or listen

Listen, anyway

It’s easy

As it’s easy


There are commandments

There are two prioritized

There is a parable of sheep and goats

(poor goats)


These are enough

To take us through the day

A season

A life

And should we like to choose

Life after


Mysticism, symbolism

Are for other verses

So to coin a phrase

That serves the here and now


That’s all, folks


C L Couch



Photo by dylan nolte on Unsplash


If God Then God, If Not

If God Then God, If Not


If God is good

Why is the world so bad?

This is not a child’s question

Only in simplicity

And it has taken faith from many

Over time

There will be some number today


There are two things, as is

God and the world

And while we eschew puppetry

We take it right in judging

God by what we do in freedom


Nature’s indifference

I can chalk up to a fallen world

That fell with us

Depravity a Calvinist discretion,

How widespread

(the narrator had it slice through Jupiter

Out of the Silent Planet)

So it’s the need to fall

The interest to

That is decided


Have faith because

The world is falling

Henny Penny, Chicken Little

All the birds that find they cannot fly

By nature or by nurture

(Chomsky, Skinner)

Or by how thick the sky

Has become


We are not the world

And we are

We take it with us

Into our decisions

Which is to say are we at the root of evil

More than the devil?

I don’t know

I cannot notebook hell

But we are pretty bad

And can be pretty good

And, if to be allowed

Either say or way,

Then discretion is not valor but

Needful as air


We don’t make heaven or of hell

But I think we can contribute

And each essence must matter

While we do

Come home to one or the other

The invitations must be that dire

Life must be that real

Real choices

We know

Real consequences


Choose faith

Sometimes in something

Or release it

Take something or walk on

Must be breathing as an option and

Have muscles

No excuses but our own


C L Couch



Photo by Paul Carroll on Unsplash





Sometimes the spirit isn’t there

The pressure of zeitgeist,

Although, maintaining

Sometimes it’s just a mortal day

With bread that burns and

Coffee spills,

Liquid things that stain

It’s a day for paying money that

Might or might not exist

(such is the way of penury

to make us all impoverished

mischiefs), though we have to

Try something


But then

The spirit’s always there

Always here

God is inclined to stay

Underneath the window sill

Or in the corner where

We pushed the table

(insert a cartoon image)

Ready to intrude

But staying everything

For reason and for love

Until we scrape the bread

And remember that in many places


We can always raise the sash

Or make space in the corner


C L Couch



Photo by Nadia Valko on Unsplash





I don’t know much about the world

It seems

I wish it were better


I’m offended

And I’m angry

Who really wants to care?


We have other things to do, less

Pandering to moods

Chosen when something more promising

Could be selected


Another code pressed on the emotion

Vending machine

I wonder maybe we have a number of tokens

And then the rest are gone

For deciding badly


For too-small convictions

When being noble in an un-ranked way

Would make the difference


Would light the factories

Would illuminate

Pockets and portals of prosperity

Nether (never) world

Intentions hide


Give it a chance

A two-step beneath the table

Smiling for no reason


The joy in dawn-split morning

Or romantic night

The splendid times when

In spite of rusted gags and


Joy breaks free

Fall into Night

Fall into Night


Having slept late,


To my condition


It’s too soon

Now, the three-o’clock

Time when

The day turns

As it must

Toward autumnal



And we notice,

If subcutaneous,

The knowing

Sense of



Inside autumn leaves

We face



To go dry-wilting

Into brown days

Or to


Flame like novae


In glory of

Expiring red,

Yellow tears or


Last bright orange



Dwindling into

Joyful or stressed


Of our

Distinctive seasons



*reader’s choice

Two Hundred Fifty Dead

Two Hundred Fifty Dead

two hundred fifty dead in Chennai
a rounded number while the
counting of the dead goes on

rains and flood that’s what did
it now hopefully not so much
because of human design in
placing buildings and the populace

Chennai so you know is a city
of the world not that that should
matter for the death of one
native inhabitant anywhere is

a loss that makes a difference I
know you know this

but international technology
companies have invested in
Chennai with their presence their
companies are closed there now

worst killing flood in a century it’s
said and the rain keeps falling there

the part of all that’s drowned and
so given up which might be of natural
design has me wonder about a

fallen world did everything fall
that was created first would even
storms and floods that for now
cut off life would they run true and

right if renewed into the first and
given state makes me wonder if
free will then was worth the cost

sometimes I wonder this at other
times I don’t question for I know

that a fallen world is not worth the
cost of discretion and of choice

Who Loves Life? (based on the shootings at Planned Parenthood in Colorado Springs)

Who Loves Life?

(based on the shootings at Planned
Parenthood in Colorado Springs)

Pro-Life should not kill
People who exercise choice
Do not hate life

Planned Parenthood should make
Sure all options are given; there are
Good people who are Pro-Life

But the debate is over once
Guns are used, and
It has failed

Can we talk again? Let’s
Hope so; otherwise, what’s left
Is to kill again

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