earth note 94

ochlockonee river, florida

right near the outlet of the dead river
flowing into the ochlockonee
an audio burst of songbirds
jump out from a patch of cypress
mad songbirds not sure about tomorrow
kayaks rolling in the confluence
strong thanksgiving day winds
straightening your back in the cockpit
who would of thought a ‘dead’ river
would lead to this?

at the park restrooms
a transvestite sat alone
in her texas pickup truck
not sure where to go next
not sure her kids wanted
to see her on the holidays
shiny black heels
and an electrician’s tool belt
deep lines in her face
questions without answers

over at the next campsite
two women and a man sang hymns
every possible acclamation of jesus
plastered on their rv
clearly giving them the inside track
to salvation

the storms held off
for several more days
the songbirds went quiet
or maybe just moved on

--- e b bortz

what was left

after death
the doors were all opened
we could all see
tears drowning
in poison
vein of injustice
vinegar on the crucifix
pontius pilate closing doors

--- e b bortz

(published in The City Poetry, issue 18, March 2007)

earth note 63

for the timber wolf

arctic wind
the fury of opening pandora's box
snowflakes & distant dreams
land of outdoor saunas
frozen lakes
the woosh of cross country skis on sub-zero snow
poplar tamarack white birch
so dense
you lose all secondary thoughts
think only of the gift
a breathing canopy

snowshoe rabbit echoes a quarter-mile
body of trees touch
what's rich inside of you

lakes hard in december
blueness of the sky
a blue too blue to be ignored
partitioned
or grayed

a land chooses those chosen
to live
molding their grace
with the wild

--- e b bortz

media urination

this is not a test
judith miller decided to stand
and piss all over the seat
now we sit in it
as usual
it will be
poor people cleaning it up

--- e b bortz

earth note 30

cross country skiing
great north woods minnesota
a snowmobile shreds
a perfect white trail
white pine trembles in decibels

--- e b bortz

earth note 54

snow dust too light to pack
cavities of the street
exposed endings
bold deep asphalt rifts
anonymous black & white pieces hide
naked
wind swept
broom broad lines like brushes
gutter overflow
piling up like the white sands of new mexico
(i remember duststorms in alamogordo)
cold white darkness just before dawn

--- e b bortz