a poet who sees double needs to wear an eye patch...no it's not jonny depp

true as a crooked retina

--- e b bortz 

the digits on your hand become the letters of your poem

become the words

of a sometimes long lost cause

you've never shied away

from most of that

like your father

taking the medicine

because it's pointed deep at his underbelly

where the traffic is mostly chaos

& the courtrooms start out

being rigged

there are many ways

to break through the fog

and claim enlightenment

mostly though

it's self-pity

egocentric self-delusion

(am i being redundant?)

taking the lead

convincing yourself

that there will be no one else

in the trenches

when the shells hit

--- e b bortz

earth note 862

albuquerque

there's a shepherd barking

every night

past the abyss

to the promised land

of orange sunsets

if you doubt that

for a moment

let the highway

take you through the back roads

til you reach the river

renewal just a stone's throw

the markings of the ancients

     your brother's keeper

--- e b bortz

earth note 861

from the back porch

a clear day will focus

on the greentree water tower

two o'clock in my view

escaping to the south ridge

along the ohio river

many footpaths connected

     interlaced

the world can be surprisingly

     bright

from time to time

--- e b bortz

uni-polar bi-polar multi-polar

these are just words

the real world is where it's at

orbiting and then splitting apart

a converted factory bomb shelter

bitcoin shitcoin petrodollar

fill your lawn mower again before

& after the ground hog scramble

that hole in the ground might just save you

follow the river 'til you get to the fork

then take it

then there will be a forest path and another fork

take that one too

you don't need a gps to find your way home

remember all the forks that got you here

uni-polar bi-polar multi-polar

     my ass

--- e b bortz

east fork san juan river morning

the river crackles gurgles

breath looks like steam

even in june

we will water up

in pagosa springs

watch the kids slip through the boulders

on inner tubes

there will be plenty of heat

by afternoon

the road to chimney rock

is not a straight line

but a sacred squash blossom

that may have touched you

--- e b bortz

earth note 860

you need to wait

for the perfect light

when it hits spider lake

it will be blue

a wall of white birch

standing reflecting

with scaly bark tamarack

homeland wetland

always calling

--- e b bortz

pre-inversion bicycling notes

(photo by Eric Bortz)

head of the ohio river trail

there's a clearing going north

some would call west

or even a twist south

as the crow flies

but if you stick to the river

you won't get lost

unless the daydreams

overwhelm what came before them

over the next month the droplets

will gather by the river edges

silt and sumac will become

the dominant shoulders

your eyebrows may drip a ring

around your neck

but the trail will go on

aboriginal mounds 

     rising

--- e b bortz

     

earth note 859

chimney swifts make it to the end

of the overcast

just before the rains hit

fast and clever

for a sunday morning

blue jays have taken the flight home

robins still combing the grass for worms

humans have a big cleanup

dahn at the river

     concert's over

--- e b bortz

i always felt like we were about to go into hiding

even with a million peace marchers

in washington

     moratorium day 1969

just after

ten thousand in the streets of chicago

hot august 1968

scrambling our bodies in front of the police

and national guard

their columns     clubs     bayonets

forcing our retreat

     jimmy was wise beyond his years

into the darkness of grant park

tear gas sweat clinging

     dripping down through jesus sandals

     hearts and minds

--- e b bortz 

earth note 858

i'm not sure where bigfork northern minnesota

begins or ends 

maybe best to leave it as a mystery

after all it's just a typical dot on the map

penned by some land grabber

stolen from the original

as in the indigenous

people of bigfork

never consulted

but in fact 

should be revered

with full deed of ownership or stewardship

beginning with

water     naming      and rice rights

somewhere near the junction

of a scenic highway

& a thousand lakes

and don't forget that dot

of course you know

the whole country

flows out of bigfork

--- e b bortz

i hide in the river fog

waiting

for a sign

the trees stand motionless

against end of the week traffic

rushing on

there's a taste of spring rolls

that linger

i'll keep a watch

in a new day

clearing

--- e b bortz

earth note 857

mourning doves speak in alto

before exchanging space on the wires

sunlight breaks through the clouds

making big moves before the rain

everyone checks the sidewalk for cracks

& new editions

if there are shadows

the words may have slipped past an empty stanza

fine print is often

left behind

books are seldom read to the end

poems are never finished

--- e b bortz

earth note 856

the hawk comes again

this time in the northwest sky

the valley has no reason

but to stay asleep

wearing down the mountains

folding in the distance

carrying the thermals

to a new sanctuary

--- e b bortz

earth note 855

a diner on the southern belly of nebraska

and it looks like

a sea of sunflowers as far as you can see

when the server asks us

where we headed with those kayaks

and we just had to say

as far as the sunflowers will take us

or maybe we said glacier national park

up against the canada border

hoping the rain won't be too cold

but of course it turned out

cold enough

though the lakes were calm

enough

--- e b bortz 

i'll take a handful of wandering utopians any day

on any dusty high plains western new mexico road

     spontaneity makes the road

long before birkenstock     lands end     coffee klatch

came to twitter

forever diluting the obvious or oblivious

with a bunch of slogans & logos

here's the cruelty of raise the red lantern or manifest destiny

     this is no movie

the lakes and rivers are drying up

you'll see their ribs by high noon

we coulda listened to the ancients and sages

but that doesn't make you any money

money money

this american dream should have started

and ended with water and buffalo chips

--- e b bortz 

i lived & worked in a company town

in fact more than one

but never lost sight of the

green hills and cold blue rivers

that could sweep through

coal hollows & iron rock piles

when least expected

sometimes the land

never came back to life

a slow death

minus the purgatory

and i may not be one for praying

though exceptions have their place

--- e b bortz 

red-blue-red, part 6

a red sun can wake up a storm

follow the blue jays into hiding

the inside of a hawk's mouth

is red with prey

after all in a dog-eat-dog world

it's best to keep an eye out

for your neighbor

the canine barks like paul revere

but it doesn't mean you'll be woken

i've walked the streets of key west

long before the new crop of poets

decided to move on

and leave the dusty stacks

of bent ears and coffee stains

idling in red sweat along frances street

the cemetery is always shifting blue

but the sky forgot

where the blue coral streaks have gone

the beach is only a temporary landing

carry a navigational map

next to your heart

still beating smooth

like a manta ray shadow

--- e b bortz

earth note 854

the weight of the rain

like the weight of the world

is enough to pull the maples

all the way down

touching the ground

a couple of mourning doves coo & tilt their heads

right before taking a stiff drink

flying off to find shelter

if you break ground

on the ridge

you'll eventually find

handmade brick

from an ancient kiln

the markers have been left

for the history

to be found

bare footprints are a perfect census

a community gathers and then

grows a village

long before the long rifles

of twisted tongues

there were songs sung out

in love

and reverence

--- e b bortz

i don't need two u-hauls

rolling down the avenue

heading for the ohio river

or a backup horn on a backhoe

feeling its way below

the asphalt

for a runaway section

of clandestine pipe

a lone crow struts across a flat roof porch

and you wonder where the murder is

no one travels alone anymore

the maples are doing their best

to cover up the scars

the dog has his nose in the air

but hasn't made a sound yet

lots of school buses for waiting students

and refugees

but no drivers

are you ready for another election season

--- e b bortz

crisscrossing colorado wildfires

still looking for a cool dark crevasse

grit brown high desert

respite from the smoke

rolling over purple mountain breasts

sagebrush breaking loose

taking on cumulative new forms

     a banksy near granby

enough to think about

driving east

     again

hot springs tainted sulfur footprints

a friendly rowdy crowd to share the springs with

there's a landscape hidden

inside silver & turquoise

changing hands

trading stories

--- e b bortz

earth note 853

spring

forest finally lights up

off the far reaches of the sun

the only true awakening

filling the hills like a heart strung

     mandolin

harmony and dissonance escape

but not the rhythm

of the river

--- e b bortz

earth note 852

i can't fathom

what a scorched earth

might look like

maybe not much different

from what exists

right now

the forests cough

like a constant covid

the riverbed becomes

a fire corridor

that's not water on the road

but only a mirage

there's a pile of twisted steel

for every broken body

on the field of battle

the trenches of mariupol

leave thousands

wandering before dying

some say there's a price to pay

before you leave this world

i'm not so sure you ever leave

maybe what becomes

your memory

is your penance

the ocean steams

like it's on its last horizon

we offer up our hands

before the great wave

what passes through

is what passes through

--- e b bortz 

is there such a thing as alienation

or is it still

just an extension

of that loss

of surplus value some would say

i'm not sure about any of this

camus walks out of the desert

with his books

just before the bombs go off

first and foremost

he's still a teacher

there are lessons too brutal

to learn

but once

every mother will pack a lunch

with leftovers

our sustenance depends on it

the mothers of the world

the one and only lifelines

still visible

in a dust storm

of the epoch

throwing out all proportions

the road divides up ahead

choose

before it chooses

for you

--- e b bortz 

the road to phuket

came out of a rainforest

the sky heavy in monsoon

the rubber trees bending

like old bodies often do

there's a cart full of precious stones

where value is an illusion

that will find themselves

at the marketplace

in time for morning barter

every farang thinks the beach is calm

the tides know better

the equator does not negotiate

it will burn deep

below your breastbone

--- e b bortz 

peach tree rosea

halfway into spring

ukraine bleeds on and on

--- e b bortz

earth note 851

a steady rain washes

covid mad river blues

into the storm sewers

ohio valley filling

to the brim

like a whiskey drinkin

bad habit

there's no reliable forecast

for when the storm might move on

open the windows

flush out the bad air once in awhile

your bronchial tubes need a rest

the hillsides are trying

to go green

but there's new cautionary yellow lines

painted on the avenue

no sidewalks or crosswalks

that go the distance

--- e b bortz 

darkness leaves a blind row

of forsythia

awaiting yellow sunrise

in your pocket

don't lose it

--- e b bortz 

earth note 850

we need to go back

to redwood national park

where the roots connect

the garden

the ocean drifts in

and leaves a message

a rocky coast of seals

with strong barking voices

where there's now a generation

of new tents

and songs

--- e b bortz

woke up to the rain this morning

which got me thinking

about taking the next train

westbound

changing over to a bus going north

and then west again

past the sunflower fields

waiting for the hope of new seed

the land of the lakota

revered beyond any greasy thumb

of colonials

when the many stories are told

it will be clear

what the original protectors

had in mind

no one can deny which side

of a free river you belong on

the high grass knows how

to stand upright

leave enough for the generations

to come

learn how to walk before running

mingle with the elk & bison & mustangs

like an ancient herder

for all passed & living souls

the rain may stop

before tonight's resting place

when it comes down to finding shelter

look to the mountains

carry what you have learned

to the altar

--- e b bortz 

we got stopped in southern texas

near del rio and the mexico border

our shiny black dog growled

as the uniforms approached & spoke

     where you headed folks

     oh just camping near big bend

so now the flashlights start going through

the back seat and the kayaks on the roof

maybe looking for

inconsistencies

maybe more people

the dog continues to growl

how about some i.d.

we take out drivers licenses

and pass them over to the uniforms

eyeballing our pictures for resemblance

the dog growls for being left out

more cars backing up

more uniforms gathering

don't pickup any hitchhikers

the uniform says

we make no comment

we look towards dusk

and the open prairie

--- e b bortz 

when the rain ends the road will still lie ahead

iron mountain to iron river to ironwood

the frame of a moose comes in to view

will clear your head like a rare spring morning

even through the fog

keep your hip boots close by

like a good smelt fisher in the upper peninsula

the forest speaks like sacred pine

and over a hundred miles to go

--- e b bortz

earth note 849

wind blown colorado

the river and the land

poke through the sun like daybreak

grit off the mountain

sand unsettled

hoof     beats     for a message

mule deer run

--- e b bortz

earth note 848

march snow sunday

covers the daffodils

before they even get started

morning light is a sudden gray turn

from the northeast

     no promises to keep

--- e b bortz

you playboys & playgirls ain't gonna run my world

but of course

we're too late

for that song

the tanks are already rolling

rationales & cognacs of oligarchs

& their gold

& their yachts

floating in blood

mariupol bleeds

like what you'd expect

from a child's hand

or a mass grave of trenches

carved out by a putin death smirk

fear alone 

by another diseased mind

the road to babi yar

     again

--- e b bortz