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tired

Tired Love

(x = space)

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Tired Love

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Everything should stop

You’re tired

Haven’t quite hit the wall

But everything’s okay enough

And you’re tired

Time to snap

Like upper and lower crocodile teeth

But don’t

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Give everyone a break

Sorry if the world does not agree

But you have to

Have a drink

Water’s good

Be still

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From within, get to know

The bones and muscles

The rest of you

And rest

Some minutes of this will help

If you can retire for the day

Like a vacation

You can feel that good

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Maybe not less serious

All issues remaining,

After all

But better in a somber way

That matters

Then go back to it

To her and him

And them

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C L Couch

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Photo by Simon Watkinson on Unsplash

A crocodile jumping from a river in Darwin, Northern Territory, Australia.

Darwin NT, Australia

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Yawnism

I lost some electronics last week; the Verizon person replaced big parts.  The new WordPress editor is unwieldy.  I’ve had extra headaches and added issues in the building.  Sleeping has been harder.  I’ve fallen behind and feel sorry for that.

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Yawnism

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When we’re tired

When we need an extra breath

Impulsive

Expresses boredom,

I suppose

If we could do it on cue

Mainly,

I think it says

It’s time for something new

Getting up or sitting down

Moving

Or less movement

The diaphragm needs to

Push on the lungs

And now;

Waiting would not be prudent

As trying to suppress it shows

Like most activities,

It is a process

Animals, we may believe,

Do it not for show

But smoothly

And in purity,

For real

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Ingenuous about offense

(or is it ingenious?),

We could follow them

Meaning to signal

Nothing more

(to take away)

Than

Everyone wears out

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C L Couch

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Photo by Girl with red hat on Unsplash

Mexico City, CDMX, México

Cat yawning on blue bed.

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psalm 4-something

psalm 4-something

 

too tired for capital letters

proper phrasing and

reliable numerals

 

I extend my hope

my hand is open

 

will I have it when I draw it back

will it be empty with some taken off

will it be an open plain upon which is

 

something of a gift

something to keep me going

source of sustenance

symbol of believing

 

even the lines on my palm

might tell me as they intersect

that patterns are really chaos

without some understanding

 

nothing gnostic or occult

no wise artificial secrets

 

only openness, like a hand,

 

when the act is fragile

ready to receive whatever

you place on me to do

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