earth note 262

little torch key

nothing divides the atlantic
from the gulf
as the last of the darkness
shrouds two-thirds
of the moon
north wind-torn
black water murmurs
nothing is still
the big dipper
has lost a leg
moorings strain
boats hang on

--- e b bortz

long highways

always seem
to bring on loneliness
     unlike the landscape or destiny promised
concrete & engines provoke the void
     as the void leads to tunnels
     tunnels stripping life
     right off the trees
          a startling opening
          a gambit
          with no opponent

--- e b bortz

(published in earth notes and other poems, Least Bittern Books, 2015)

critique

poems are emotions
i don't need footnotes
alienation
love
the planet
politics
it can be scratched into a wall
or it can bring a wall down

--- e b bortz
 
(published in opednews.com, Nov 15, 2013)

foresight

i've come to despise
the word
inevitable
mistrust all its promises and despair
hot summers of love
growing out of scoundrel times
iron heels
lopsided & skewing
every new fashion statement
there are hidden agendas
in the pastels
forbidden colors
that warm you up
pick you up
off the park bench
to escape
the bone chilling rains of autumn
getting you down
on this day
on any given day
there'll be a thousand voices
coming at-cha
about the great coming
     choose your own inevitable

--- e b bortz

impatience leads

like there might not be
an escape
or a next

and the politicians blow out
one more fracking scheme

and the regiment of schemers
grows in the up-tick of the dow

and even on a cloudless day
the sun sneaks off before awakening

and the bus riders step off in town
with strollers and blank stares from the street

and when night finally ellipses light
a million more stars have gone missing

when the eyes
have it
be sure & open them wide

--- e b bortz

(published in opednews.com, Nov 7, 2013)
(published in firedoglake.com, Nov 8, 2013)

earth note 261

when the crows speak
it's usually with an exclamation point
& a bright contrast between black & autumn gold
nothing is
as it appears
on a postcard
even from the glut of cyber sound
     the wind simply responds
     with a change in direction
     sometimes too small to measure
just before the sparrows leave the wires
     you know the crows will say it all
          and after every pause
               more cries

--- e b bortz