I talk you talk we'll talk



The Russia Plane

The Russia Plane


I’m so sorry

And in this I do not care about

Antipathy between governments

And generations’ leaders


Loss of life from Russia

The choir, the humanitarian

Anyone from any place of any kind

Or backing

Agenda no longer counts save

Mother Russia weeping


Fill the holes in churches and

In agnostic circles

With salt water from our tears

And Black Sea depths


C L Couch


Here’s News (and a Haibun)

Here’s News (and a Haibun)




Here are three news leads from The Guardian:

The United Nations has for the first time signalled its “human rights obligation” over the deadly cholera outbreak in Haiti that has claimed the lives of at least 30,000 people.

‘It’s only working for the white kids’: American soccer’s diversity problem [headline]

Yesterday, a report came out that said more than 1,000 migrants and refugees have died just in the last week while crossing the Mediterranean.




Everyone on all sides of things is falling down.  UN peacekeeping.  Soccer, the world’s sport.  Migrants we don’t count who die.  Doesn’t help my own precarious feelings about stability or sanity in the world.  Doesn’t help the fragility in me or mine.  On this side of apocalypse (only frightening for some), what might we save?  In order to retain poetics, I’ve refrained from news of politics today.  I doubt anymore the answer’s there.




Black box of the plane

Black box of refugee’s boat

Black box of sea’s depths

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