Portland Oregon
I have family there I
Think I lost four more
C L Couch
Four homeless people die of exposure in Portland in first 10 days of 2017
Endure Oregon Protest
They are still in Oregon.
The protest goes and has
Closed in. A leader, Cliven
Bundy, was arrested.
“Cliven” could be a past-
participle word for
“Cleave” (I don’t know
that it was)—an odd word
cleave: on its own, it would
seem to mean to cut into
two, yet it is the word used
for bonding in marriage
talk. Maybe the ideas is
that in marrying we slice
ourselves off one plant
and in a cleaved (or cliven)
state are grafted to another.
From both parts, then, new
growth is hybrid-formed—
and was such unity made
made here? Since one last
leader was taken, it would
not seem so; disunity, like
bad harmony, sounds from
final voices that endured.
Not to say that protest by
occupying and with guns
is a better way, for it is not.
But someone should really
hear what they have to say—
I’m not partisan in this
for feeling for both sides.
I simply wish equality imbued.
Everyone should be heard.
Everybody gets a turn. Not
A game—but how we should
have it. All the same.
Mammoth Find
Something fantastic was
Found under OSU—now,
In my part of the land,
OSU stands for “The”
Ohio State
Here, however, we’re
Talking about Oregon,
Where by the way members
Of my family have
Attended
Though none ten thousand
Years ago, which is the
Counting of this find—
Generally, we (and I
Mean you and me) were
Around as early wanderers
And inhabitants and so
Might have run from the
Massive body of the bones,
When enfleshed and nature-
Armed, we have now
As a mammoth—you
Know, the woolly kind
We’d have eventually
Turned and hunted down
The one in stone calcified
That we treasure now
Free away from
Primal scenes and needs
We may make friends
And maybe make amends
With its bones dryly,
Comfortably
Without tooth and claw
To rend in red our fragile
Skin
We (less bravely, perhaps)
May say:
Welcome, Ice-Age ally, to
Our better art and science
(“Nature, red in tooth and claw”—In Memoriam, Tennyson)
“Adversity, Misfortune”
(written with all urgency)
Is what it means
Malheur (thanks to
Collins), and there is
A certain story about
That (Mister Thurber,
You can look it up)
But the story that is
Written now can
Only add to the
First meaning
Set fire? No
Imprison any longer?
No
Militia? We have
The National Guard
(I know, national)
Grace, which translates
Closely all around,
Needs abounding here
Not perched in a
Distant tree, an
Observation pillar,
Waiting to return
To normal life
Not to blame the bird
The bird is natural,
Even as a metaphor
Grace is better
It takes “mal-heur”
To render it “bon-temps”
(Sorry if I slaughter French
A language I enjoy)
I am of Northwest
I am in Oregon (check
The names)
My grandfather built
Refuges like
Malheur (though I’d
Like to think he’d have
Checked the name)
All are right in this
All are wrong
Everyone back up
And change the stakes
Then everyone not further
Newly charged (please, no)
In need-corrected wrong
Everyone
Go
And be home
C L Couch
January 2016
clcouch123 
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