Monday, September 28, 2015

earth note 364

drizzle makes a poet envious
the cadence is subtle
it'll tap your shoulder
going directly to your heart
you'll get cold
trying to figure out
the difference between
a dark afternoon
and a lament
you've heard before

--- e b bortz

Saturday, September 26, 2015

with october approaching

there comes a decision
standing equidistant
on the stairwell
between maximum & minimum emotion
     which way to go
what should be taken from autumn
     what should be let go of

i've been told
there are no recurring themes
a story leaves out details
from before
that you'll never notice
and you'll adjust to them
like a missing character
or a forgotten name

it's not enough to dwell
in the change of season
there are transitions
so quiet
that what touches you
is complete
though sometimes seen
as less
than whole

--- e b bortz

Thursday, September 24, 2015

better to remain anonymous

sitting with a ten-year-old minivan
from dead
this morning
nothing to do
'cept wait it out

reading through an online nytimes version
of nostalgia
for late 70s new york city
     how could they fail to mention basquiat
          revolutionary gospel that is
     doesn't usually make it into
     self-absorbed congratulatory circles
(o.k. i understand now)

like poetic milquetoast 
running off
to another workshop
some still faking the pain & poverty of those days
presenting the in-crowd as
a red badge of courage
or was it all
just another cliquish andy w production
repetitions co-opted
     and carefully
     only skin deep

(o.k. i understand now)

--- e b bortz

Monday, September 21, 2015

not much long after the leaves change

free-falling to their deaths
     there won't be any excuses left
for not leaving every pennsylvania-west virginia
coal hollowed road
& grit hill
hoping to hide
from another season
of dark high noons
     fresh wind weakened
     by the rattle of coal trains & half-burned diesel trucks
every last one of those tongues
snarling apologetic superpaks
always trying to sell you
     another load

we'll take our lesser evil
gouging gasoline price
& head towards the caribbean
even though there are
no perfect sunsets

--- e b bortz

Saturday, September 19, 2015

from a raft a first step

a backpack
finds the shore
of europe
leaving western guns to ultimately rust
in the sand
     (along with firewater      smallpox    
     cluster bombs      depleted uranium)

children rest upon a generation's shoulders
their smiles yet to come
millions praise
your bare

--- e b bortz

Friday, September 18, 2015

earth note 363

a train of coal cars
squealing over the river
signaling an end to summer
with no patience
for a better way

a dove on the wire
in meditation

--- e b bortz

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

earth note 362

a trail with shoulders
still soft from the rain
     a dozen footprints
     split off on their own

--- e b bortz

Monday, September 14, 2015

earth note 361

cawker city, kansas

the great plains
rolling right up to main street
& an art gallery & antique store
filled to the brim
always saying it's open
which i guess it is
in a figurative sense
as open as the prairie 
as the sunflower & wheat fields
are open
open and empty
as the only road
passing through

your eyes will never
bring the horizon
into absolute focus
it will hesitate on the edge
before fading
     leaving your brow
     damp with questions    

---e b bortz

Tuesday, September 08, 2015

earth note 360

from the mesa grande
the valley floor
emits a dusty bottom
almost effervescent
& the bodies & cars
scramble from their hives
without purpose
sun providing no clarity
just a mix of granules
& out-of-sync energy

when dusk comes
the forest finds the ridge
& goes into hiding

--- e b bortz

Saturday, September 05, 2015

the long walk

from budapest to austria & germany
is only the beginning
the road goes on
like a melancholy roma song
prodding a response
that can only be hoped for
stepping into
those shoes
     you will dare
     to be human    

--- e b bortz

Tuesday, September 01, 2015

earth note 359

just another weekday morning
cars rushing down the avenue
wrapped around their coffee cups
tied up in heat & humidity & time clocks
striking down in unison
sweat dripping off the trees
likes to think
it's a greenhouse
when in fact
the insides
are all but

--- e b bortz