since this is pittsburgh

let’s just start with comic relief
& say
there’s a little w-a-r-sh
in the middle of every wash
& sunflowers never take on
a normal life span
& poetry in lieu of rent
won’t cut it
& all those billions dumped to the bankers
won’t stop those oil tankers from floating
toward the edge (nor bring those steel jobs back)
& yes
the abyss might be a state of mind
but real souls
have choices
only the forest knows
and the calling
comes when we least
expect it
& every lonesome ride
to the border
must be a beginning

--- e b bortz

photos by Sandra L Hazley

embellishing a weird dream

my passport was stolen
from the backseat of my van
a hidden place violated
and in its place
an expired passport of a guy
born in 1922
(let him remain anonymous)
though his thick brown moustache
could give him away

and there’s more:
right rear wheel was gone
van creaked left on a scissors-jack
spare tire walked
or never was

scene two:
a dozen of us marching
up centre avenue on the sidewalk
signs say stop police violence
a motorcycle cop
buzzes over with a cold tense look
ultimately
peels away without word

it was the centre avenue before
urban removal
people actually sitting on their stoops
watching us......not quite believing
we were pale gray
tho our banners
many colors

destination a bushy hilltop
known as sugar hill
we scatter what time is left
for dreams imagined
& real

--- e b bortz