Friday, April 30, 2010


rolled down the ramp
from the commuter speedboat
in na thon thailand
bicycle wheels following my instinct
island ring road south
still a few hours daylight
big orange hangs
like droopy eyelids
the heat is unique
approaching sunset
the air dries a bit
before the evening mist
makes landfall
off the ocean

a few farmers were picking bananas
on the interior hills
i could see them under big hats
carts filling along palm-lined pathways
their work a tender touch
fused with small yellow skins

lamai beach
coral jagging up
a mix of sharp black rock
rough shore
piercing for the unfamiliar
i spilled my blood
on occasion
knowing the pain was warranted

descriptions come up short
on the last hill
above chaweng beach
drawn like a long necklace
free from the body
it sways with each wave
then releases you
anonymously to karma
runaway doubts
having been liberated
by the weight
of another

--- e b bortz
january 1989

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

earth note 138

forty years of earth days
& a slow waltz

if we were dreaming
there'd be an excuse

corporate smiley face
drools a nasty overbite

someone's awake

most every politician
auctions green credit cards

fracking rigs & access roads
where do we make our stand?

--- e b bortz

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

finding nirvana

at the end of my index fingers
as they rest over my ear openings
a solid pressure to quiet the pounding the page
& make space for longer days
yet wail the days past
every pulse a new angle of detail
long forgotten landscapes
smell sweet
a liquid green road
comes home
each night
in time for curry

and we always spoke
only in the present
tasted the spice
each moment drawn
out toward the sea
and the mermaid
of songkhla
motionless but watching
for the misstep
& excuses
for choosing the rational
the ego of self-destruction
we knew to be hollow

but now we're past the boundaries
long abandoned
.....the eardrum sings back
.....calling out a last blue streak
.....of day
--- e b bortz

Sunday, April 04, 2010

earth note 137

diesel locomotives
coal cars & squealing brakes
wrap thunder around a steel bridge
primed black
and if the earth answers
it might be an echo
or a shaking
like fire & brimstone
roaring itself up woods run hollow
with a murky river vantage point
the clapboard houses & prison walls
search for a steady current
for a flushing
of the old ways

--- e b bortz