Tuesday, January 29, 2019

lost poems or recovering notes from the deep, part 19


circa 1977-1978

so i'm kinda resigned to the fact
that all those raw words
got left behind
strewn across dried up frozen hay fields
bitter down to the root
leaving northern minnesota passion
( 3 miles north of nashwauk 
across from nurka's corner store)
to fend for itself
stripping everything to bare essentials
locking away everything not claimed already

there were some beautiful words in the fall
as the words grew and took form
memory doesn't serve me well at this point
but i get the deep down guttural feeling
that everything written
on that old underwood typewriter
could only have been written once
and at that exact moment

the wind swept in out of the northwest
somewhat confused
like it was going to a dance
without a partner
waking you to what only could be described
as stumbling forward on strike benefits
and borrowed pencils
and then from time to time
reverting back a decade
to muster all the courage from a family
of shoemakers and tinsmiths
draft resisters and tormented writers

when the strike finally ended
there was a small pile of papers left
stowed away in the attic eave
of a brown loose-leaf notebook
left to gather the maturity or abandonment
of another season
which came and went
and then went again
left leaning into every episode
retrospect vexed or otherwise
for alternative explanations
ultimately recovering what's possible
finding solace
and space
between the words

--- e b bortz

Sunday, January 27, 2019

earth note 656


i may have said this
in a different way before
but the flight of a crow wing
can bring you home
through black and gray contrast
an overcast sky has nowhere else to go
following north then west
stripped black branches painted
etched in gray background
snow still a blanket
clean as the grit around it
rolling up and down each hill
without judgment

--- e b bortz

Saturday, January 26, 2019

earth note 655


there's a trail
frozen in time
by the last snow dusting
footprints i left six months ago
mingling just below the avenue
with the doe
stepping carefully
toward autumn

--- e b bortz

Friday, January 25, 2019

earth note 654


polemic road off route 19
in west virginia
still ranting while drowning
into the gray soup fog
not knowing the answer
for an appalachian mid-life crisis
coal dust thick in the creek bed
a homicide by any definition
waiting for acknowledgment
no matter how you cut it
if you can't believe that
just take a walk out back
and find the shithouse
still full
from the last century

--- e b bortz

Saturday, January 19, 2019

earth note 653


a windy saturday afternoon
and i'm sorry for revealing all this
but sombrero beach is something
of a beach party today
kayaks up the yazoo
a few sailboats
rhythm of the tide
     a dozen languages
& music mix

out near the horizon
a speedboat race
noise and testosterone
and most likely a few drunks
making waves

the seagulls and pelicans
seem to care less and less
like they understand the cajun french
as well as french quebec
while turning their beaks like pointers
     at the wind

--- e b bortz

Tuesday, January 15, 2019

earth note 652

















cudjoe bay

from patience
you'll find your bearings
there's always a larger vista

if you find an opening
it'll be up to you
to go on thru

--- e b bortz

Monday, January 14, 2019

earth note 651



















big torch key

the end of the road
but not the end
of the trail

mangrove rising
wild
free
like a growing hill
before the sun
before your eyes
a path

--- e b bortz

Saturday, January 12, 2019

earth note 650

















denim underground railroad
a mix of hands
eventually landing
in a pittsburgh thrift store
the origins too faded to see
so i'll point them toward
the open water on sombrero beach
where languages mix freely
and no one is demanding a green card

--- e b bortz

Thursday, January 10, 2019

earth note 649


















i'm walking highway A1A today
like it's a religious experience
     maybe it is

the north wind is sharp and cold
the tide is meandering in from the caribbean
like a ritual or habit
     might as well call it a ritual

there's an old milwaukee beer can
with its head bashed in
stranded in the shallows
might as well call it holy water

when the beach sands
reach the sidewalk and cover it
the hourglass will begin
traffic will stop
pelicans will gather up their tribe
     the sea will open

--- e b bortz

Tuesday, January 08, 2019

earth note 648



















roots anchor sun
sea swallows light
green sprouts push through

first as rhythm
then as song

--- e b bortz

Thursday, January 03, 2019

earth note 647


iguana highway
is not so much a physical place
as a frame of mind
where the outliers scrape through life
in spite of every aspersion
thrown from the leather seats
of a rented camaro convertible
playing the music of the road
but missing the meaning of it all

sure
the beach sand is brown
beautiful in every angle of the sun
but the road goes beyond
all of that
the waters will rage
as sure as the colors
on the get-a-way brochures
run
this isn't about ink to paper
but about the perseverance
it'll take to make it
another day

the sidestreets and alleys
are filled with musicians and poets
they didn't arrive in any particular cast
they're not definite
in any one plan or even two
but the bus to miami
might as well be to another planet
the mind and heart will always return
to the authentic but desperate song
having nowhere else to carry it

it's said that the iguana was transported
and placed along the highway clandestinely
to spite the other travelers
their bright green
hides well in the grass
and they move
with the speed of a wild night
in south beach
even as the artist starves alone
and the well connected
change into their evening suits

--- e b bortz

Wednesday, January 02, 2019

earth note 646


crossing over iguana highway
the eagle eye of a turkey buzzard
knows where the road leads
from the instinct of talons
     holding deeply held secrets
          dead or alive
out of mangrove thicket
without as much as a gesture
to the incognito
soft perfectly round intense eyes
     of the ibis
left to their elegance
group mentality
gentle curve of the beak
     to glean through the grass

--- e b bortz