forsythia breaking away

for all us local quarry cutters

right at the exit ramp
dropping yellow bell-bottoms
every pothole can testify
if you’re close enough to listen
there’s a halo
that’s been snatched
from those would-be
patricians
us bitter ones
yes!
can see the race for what it is
but like acid to the alkaline
our hands will grow a garden

--- e b bortz

yonge street refugee toronto

isn’t a put-down
thousands grasp
my own small view
is that it’s a damn good thing
to have a place to run away
to
when iron heel limousines
block the peace bridge on-ramps
i’ll take my kayak north
below the radar
edicts
& new world order
shit-faced enforcers
who will be at a loss
to explain
any laws or rights
that supercede
those grown by generations
of dead patriots

--- e b bortz

head frazzled

loose ends
filling every angle
a line of sight
not to be confused
in revolutionary terms
with a kind of infantilism
can’t stop the sloganeering
popping its blindsided
emotionally sided
overdrawn tissue
cerebellum’s the missing piece
hardcore bank raiders
selling ‘em short
let’s take our margins against the wall
scratch the vault
alley cats
let us in
we’ll share the fire escape
& last refuge
paint the landscape void
a rust of isolation
a river out of here
limping

--- e b bortz