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Earth

a medium for heroes

(x = space)

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a medium for heroes

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what if a dream deferred

is not enough?

(it is a cruel question)

what if our refusal

to lift up each one

is a matter

for the Earth’s survival?

who is the next Einstein

or Jenner or the Curies

who will save us

from nature’s catastrophes

or our own?

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they may rise

unless we have refused

them breath and opportunity

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and without knowing

(and we never know)

we simply have to raise

each one

each one on the Earth

and the Earth itself

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c l couch

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photo by Jeff Ackley on Unsplash

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The Devil in the Middle

(x = space)

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The Devil in the Middle

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What is in

The center of it all?

A devil laughing?

Why should a devil

Laugh?  Why should

A devil care?

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Devil-may-care,

What does that mean?

It means cavalier

In this instance;

Cavalier meaning gallant,

Gallant meaning piquant

Small matters

To the devil

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Some imply a drama:

The devil made an angel,

Risen through the rank

To be chief angel

Even over arches

The prince of light

In the maker’s eye

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Then came ambition

There must be more

(there isn’t

there is),

A form of pride

Borrowed from the will

The maker gave

The last things made,

Before resting

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Pride made or given,

The angel rises

Now to have something

Of its own,

The will to chase the universe

To know

And thus have

Everything that moves—

Better yet, motion itself

And heat

And all reactions,

The moving in everything

That moves

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The universe is not

Statuary;

I will own dynamos

All that makes possible

All else—this

Is ambition

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And the maker,

The maker said no

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Other than the tree,

The first time

That was said

More so imposed,

And the devil knew

The maker meant it

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And there was howling,

The first kind

Ever heard in heaven

And rebellion

And rejection

As decreed

In the moment before

And in between

Anything beyond the host

Was made

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The devil thought

Nothing like this could apply

To an angel

Better than archangels—

But this was meant,

It knew and so

It and its own followers

Must leave,

The devil

And the devil’s own

Sliding onto Earth

In a compromise, it hoped,

Of creation’s creating,

Maker’s binding law

Not to destroy in victory

Anything that was made,

Even with

Accounting the defeated

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Earth the great place

In between,

Where battles might be fought

Until the last engagement;

The devil knew it all

And didn’t care—there

Were its own skirmishes to win,

A campaign of turning

And, turned enough,

To ruin Eden’s darlings

Even turn the animals

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Twisting the good

In molecules

And lightning

And all forces remade

Into viscous virtue,

Easy to remake

And redirect,

Blurring the vision of the end

Even in its sight—

Maybe the devil and an army

Of the Earth

Will split the maker’s love

And all will overthrown,

New laws

With everything its own

With what might be taken

From each other

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All anarchies,

All chaos

Water will not fill the shape

Of its container

For physics overthrown

With anything agreed-upon

Undone

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Undo it all,

The devil owning energy

Would win

And have its own,

More than any other

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Enough of a plan

To ruin Eden’s promises

Then go from there

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C L Couch

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there is more

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Photo by Jonathan Bean on Unsplash

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tandem

(x = space)

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tandem

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if I count all the noise

I am depressed

at least disappointed

I like the noise of living:

children (not always)

dogs, pans squabbling

even the noise of

passing cars and the diesel

of the bus

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but the anchorite

would like some quiet

in the cell from time to time

to think and feel through

insight

and the soul

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and who quiets the noise inside

I am not sure

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I try it on my own,

and only impulse closes over

wakeful everything

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I ask,

maybe will receive

not a holy schedule

but a sacrosanct surprise

that the Earth is

made quiet through

a tandem try

so we both may dream

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c l couch

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photo by Adolfo Félix on Unsplash

bike for two

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Wolf Gang

(x = space)

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Wolf Gang

(winter song)

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Up and down

The streets at night

Back and forth

Across the city

We go for what we want

We don’t care about

The human race

Except as a resource

For the things

We need

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It’s winter time,

Our favorite time

We take what we need

You could wish

For a gang as this

Keep wishing

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We owe no one anything

We take what

Evolution dictates

Our strength

Is a number, only

Each of us

Would rather be alone

As our howl sings

At the break of day

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We are wolves

We are alone

We haunt

The human mind

We break apart

To make each one

A scoundrel of the day

Then we sleep

We sleep long hours

Then when

The weakling day is done

We wake up to

The power of night

And

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And none of this

Is true

We are families

And our power’s for

Our children

And the pack

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We mate for life

We do not wander

Unless the food is far away

You might fear us

We need our teeth and jowls

And a howl that sings

We know you’re there

We sing

To each other

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What we want

Is life together

You ruin all our seasons

In the land

Sometimes

When you can’t hear,

We also cry to Earth

To punish you

And save us

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C L Couch

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This is a response to a prompt: https://wyrdwordsandeffigies.wordpress.com/2021/01/17/write-yourself-awake-wyrd-creative-writing-prompts/.  Katie writes fantastically about winter and folklore, self-awareness and the growth of self.  The prompt is for the season, and there are many good cues there from which to choose.  An opportunity to express (and thus enhance) creative health in winter.

https://wyrdwordsandeffigies.wordpress.com/

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Photo by Chris Henry on Unsplash

Canada

Please follow me on Instagram! @chrishenry

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Fractured Confession

(x = space)

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Fractured Confession

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I haven’t said anything

About God today,

Which isn’t true

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I wrote above,

Commenting on

God’s judgment

And its fairness against

Earthly powers

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Sometimes, I think,

The issue is

Power versus prophecy

With God surprising us

In interpretation

When it rolls

And tolls

Like justice

Over Earth,

All planets,

Our sun,

And all stars

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C L Couch

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“Earth and All Stars,” a Christian hymn (with rather ecumenical lyrics)

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Image by WikiImages from Pixabay

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Later

(x = space)

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Later

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I’m not sure what to say

It’s been a day

I slept in bouts and woke up

Very tired

I got some coffee for the

Caffeine and the ritual

I started writing, trying to find

A way through the events that matter

Seasons and ideas

What might move us

One by one and as a people

Of the planet, who for now have

Such a nascent idea of

Who of Earth we are

Thousands of years in groups,

The rise and fall

Sometimes extinction

Through disaster,

Sometimes disaster through conquest

Then the conquered fall

Harry Lime says

The Borgias had war

And sponsored the Renaissance

While the Swiss had peace

And only produced the cuckoo clock

Great striving

Requiring great tyranny

Do you believe that?

I don’t,

And Harry was taken in a sewer

Underneath Vienna, by the way

Peace is a practical

Possibility—of course, it is

Think how much does not

Have to be destroyed

Except for fear

In tyranny

In peace, there is plenty

There is art as well

I think Harry also forgot about how

Art is patronized and how

Patronage does not need

A dictator’s purse

Coffered by the people, anyway

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Can we imagine having

Everything we need?

Do we think it would be over,

The human drive?

I think we would explore

What is beyond crushing need

In a universe,

A universe,

With which we haven’t started

Beyond machines

Impartial theories

Take away the bullies

And concomitant destruction,

There is finally a chance

For everything

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C L Couch

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The Third Man, a film directed by Carol Reed, written by Graham Greene

Greene wrote the novella of the same name as preparation for the screenplay. Anton Karas wrote and performed the score, which featured only the zither. The title music “The Third Man Theme” topped the international music charts in 1950, bringing the previously unknown performer international fame. The Third Man is considered one of the greatest films of all time, celebrated for its acting, musical score and atmospheric cinematography.

Halliwell, Leslie and John Walker, ed. (1994). Halliwell’s Film Guide. New York: Harper Perennial. ISBN 0-06-273241-2. p 1192 [cited at Wikipedia]

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By PunkToad from oakland, us – Cardinal Cuckoo ClockUploaded by clusternote, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=27515171

Cardinal Cuckoo Clock, 126 1st Ave. Minneapolis MN

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Tomorrow Should Be Much Like Today

(x = space)

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Tomorrow Should Be Much Like Today

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I don’t know what to say

Am I confused?

Perhaps

I mean, I try to write every day

Not because I have to

Or because of a tontine

Between poets, as the

Romantics tried

Though they wrote with form

And complex thought

And feeling

Typically, I end up with

More than one thing

And I choose

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Sometimes I surprise myself

And choose the thing

I wasn’t planning on

(as things came out)

And publish that

I’d say discovery is fun,

And it is

Though it is surprise

Becomes the main thing

When it happens

I suppose they go together

Discovery and surprise

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I write based on

What’s happening in the world

And inside me

And if I haven’t thought of

Something spiritual, then

I guide my thoughts that way,

Which sounds forced

Well, maybe a contrivance

Again, I try to keep discovery

In the mixture, as a baker

Or mixologist might see it

Prayer, Bible, interrogative—I try

To take up problems

And solutions

Or else things that matter

In a smaller, more day-to-day way

Where we live

With our souls and God

Trying to know each other,

Eke out a life together

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There is community

I’m aware of

Maybe matching something like

Thornton Wilder’s echelons

That Rebecca recounts—you know,

Citizen of Earth and such

I am Robin,

Living in a house

Along a street that’s old and busy

In the small town (borough) of

Mechanicsburg

In the commonwealth of Pennsylvania,

One of the MidAtlantic states

In the U.S.A. (a country without

its own good name

because America is also

north and south

of us),

Living in the northern hemisphere

And the western as well,

Underneath the moon that

Orbits ‘round my planet

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I am a citizen of Earth,

The third planet from our sun

In a system of nine or eight planets

(we’re still arguing about the

count, though I’ve thought

since I was a child about

another planet out there

to make the system ten or nine)

But, anyway,

A member of my solar system

In a spiral galaxy

Called the Milky Way

With another galaxy called

Andromeda by us—I don’t know what

The folk out there might

Call themselves—nearby,

Galactically speaking

And there’s the mind of God

By God’s own hand

How we were made and how

We’re sustained,

Despite the agenda of human greed that

Would rather have its own way

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I believe in Jesus

Others await Messiah

Others live in Messiah

Others own Muhammad,

The prophet and the teachings–and

There are those who

Follow the Buddha

And those who want the Hindu

Godhead

And still others who follow other ways

With other entities and names

For God

And those who follow none

And I have to say

I do not mind, which makes for bad

Evangelism but also makes for

Respectful living

And I figure we need respect

More than singularity for now

Otherwise, we might not exist

To have all the arguments

About belief

Or lack thereof

That should only happen

In congenial ways,

Not with life on the line

For anyone

Believing, not believing

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And so I’m done for now,

This day

It is autumn, my favorite season

For the thrill of cold

With the presence of new colors

That, to me, make everything

More interesting

I like the other seasons, too,

Happy to have them all

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C L Couch

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Our Town by Thornton Wilder.  The dialogue referred to happens near the end of Act 1.

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By Philipp Salzgeber – http://salzgeber.at/astro/pics/9703293.html, CC BY-SA 2.0 at, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=184641

Hale–Bopp in 1997

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Watching Science TV

(x = space)

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Watching Science TV

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How the Universe Works

“Dawn of Life”

(4.5)

Mars had life back then

(it was a viable planet

could it have sent some life

to Earth?

my question

then the episode agrees)

Cyanobacteria

Turns green and then accepts

(takes part in)

Photosynthesis

Releasing oxygen

For other species

There are changes

And the theorist says

They’re random

A little taller, a little clearer in the eye

Both for better hunting on

The primordial range

I’m wondering

About the randomness

Changes for better living

(through chemistry)

But vital changes, really

Not simply for improvement but

For life at all

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And if it’s random

Like a guess from the universe

To say, look at that, we made things

Better for that one

That kind upon the plain

That must needs kill to eat,

Then is there no touch

Of evolution, let alone

Of the divine?

No working out

Or through of human need?

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These attributes are needful

It seems an existential crisis

(a crisis of existence)

To have left it,

Left the living to the

Throw of an indifferent die

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C L Couch

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Photo by Sam Wermut on Unsplash

Stockton Sand Dunes, Salt Ash, Australia

mars

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Not a Game Day

(x = space)

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Not a Game Day

(maybe another day)

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We’ve had dark days

(two days’ packed clouds

and rain)

And that’s all right

We don’t soothsay

The weather, anymore

Storms are a nuisance

Comets intriguing

Too many withering days

Does not mean

God is judging us, though

God might have another

Idea, not about

Judging us through

Weather (God might be

glad we’ve outgrown that)

But keeping count

Regardless over

How we’re doing with

Created places

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There could be a book

Maybe a computer bank

Maybe angels tasked with

Keeping score

Except there are too many

Teams to count

And Earth and each day

Is not a game

(sorry)

Most of the time

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C L Couch

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Photo by Zhu Hongzhi on Unsplash

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