earth note 539

once you pass thru

the rubicon
the high desert beyond
will reshape
your feet
for the long walk
only imagination
may recognize

--- e b bortz

inlet-outlet

 

 

 

 

we've walked

this ohio river line
a thousand times
back then
the summer heat
pulled us forward
til we dove off
the concrete shoulders
at woods run
people said there were cars
dumped in the river
so you had to be careful diving

every so often
you'd hear shouts & whistles
from the penitentiary
someone said there was
an underground escape tunnel

there was always

wonder bread that could be rolled
into dough balls
for catching carp & catfish

but the window sills gathered coal dust

enough to make their own storm
and there was nothing joe magarac nostalgic
about the bottoms in mckees rocks
or the chemical fires downriver
on neville island

--- e b bortz

earth note 538

you reach the sun

just once
it will find its way
to your frontal lobe
perceptions like lovers
need not be science
dark & light
for every moment

--- e b bortz

earth note 537

great sand dunes, colorado

sun      moon      wind 

throw their bodies
upon the land
until you notice

every grain

with a purpose
every riverbed
to be followed

--- e b bortz

earth note 536





telluride, colorado

your right to flower here

take a vote
the eyes have it

--- e b bortz

earth note 535

 

evergreen in sunrise

hands from the east

--- e b bortz

earth note 534

dream lake
is just over the mountain
sometimes
the trails are marked
the bear might see you
walkins are welcome
every message acknowledged

--- e b bortz

when you reach the end of the bridge

the light can blind you

there aren't any
roads less traveled
because there aren't any roads
it's just you
and that undefined light
mind you
i'm not suggesting
this is the hereafter
we're mortals
and all we can come up with
are questions not answers

so far

the sun never takes a holiday
the wind will still hit you broadside
and i do hear the creek speaking

that's enough

--- e b bortz

earth note 533

weigela java red
could be a shrub
or a
nom de guerre
an alias like
lou bradley
aka lou bortz
of the abraham lincoln brigade
when it all flowers
in the spring
we'll praise
the beauty of the soil
as our marching song

--- e b bortz

earth note 532

 

jumbo campground

on the grand mesa
was somewhat hidden
through the aspens
next to a small clear lake

an unofficial

gathering of campers
on the main road
was a clue
that some were waiting
for something to open up
like an empty campsite

so even though

our many-months-ago
internet reservation
worked to our benefit
i can't deny
the feeling of guilt
about setting up our tent
as the afternoon waned
and the queue
at the main road
dissipated in frustration

those who travel light

will ultimately spread
throughout the forest
the unmarked trails
the outcrops
moss covered or bare
burrowing in
beyond authority

--- e b bortz

sunrise commodified

if the phone rings
let your reflection
answer it
tell the telemarketer
you're not interested
in a bathtub coverall

--- e b bortz

earth note 531

i don't know
how no-name key
fared during the hurricane
but of course we do know
who gets the last word
looking past the wreckage
pushing off from the mangroves
     following the pelicans

--- e b bortz

earth note 530

the eye is stone

and sometimes vision

--- e b bortz

earth note 529

hot breeze october
thru the shadows
moves wooden wind chimes
from a deep hollow
like a rhythmic calming
by any objective ear
     backbeat
finds the last
of the cicadas

--- e b bortz

recovering notes from the deep, part 14

my mom in her early sixties
finally decided to hop a greyhound
& visit her grandkids
in our northern minnesota homestead

it was a long but interesting journey

for her as she described some of the characters
she heard stories from along the way

and i think i had just finished plumbing in

the bathroom though the electric heat installation
was still another project to-do
it was already june
warming up fast
& at least we were finished burning wood
until september

mom wasn't especially geared for the wilderness

as she called it
but she brought books to read
stories to tell
and wouldn't you know
she even looked through
the local yellow pages
and found under "synagogues"
one in hibbing
she wanted to visit
so maybe it was on a saturday
that we piled into the truck
and drove the fifteen miles to hibbing
to an old building on a shady corner
where an old caretaker answered the door
and mom spoke some of her fluent yiddish
that the caretaker seemed to recognize
as she invited us in

and after a few minutes

it came out that
bobby zimmerman
before he ran away for the last time
from home
guitar strapped over his back
and thousands of songs and miles before him
came with his family to this very synagogue
in the wilderness as mom might say
where there used to be old streetcar tracks
running through the iron range in the 1930s
& people carrying live chickens
to the rabbi for friday night dinner

and in those very 30s

there was also the bitterness
in the body of the red rock ore
ravenous eastern banking interests
strike and strife
that brought together
jews and finns and norwegians and serbs and swedes
and yes the original
dispossessed & robbed
proud ojibwe people
whose hands and wild rice
created all life 
from this land
wilderness
long after
the last
expropriation
& my mother's last story

--- e b bortz