i don't fit in the russia box

where i can't breathe

and even if i'm adverse to violence
there's still a good left arm and fist
to smash a hole right on through
all the way to the senate paper tigers
cardboard mannequins
bought and paid for
filthy money so-called lesser-evil
saboteur foundations

the short bare-chested guy

needs to ride a real horse
like one of those wild free stallions
near the montana-canada border
like in a solzhenitsyn siberia winter

orange-hair can then double up

take up the rear
his mouth a completed anus
for everyone
childlike vicious
their trigger-fingers
a thumb
they can jointly
suck on

--- e b bortz

earth note 554

winter solstice 2017

near the gulf shore

there's a misnamed
     backcountry trail
cleanly paved and all

so i take the deer path

when i see droplets
inhale the brush
the quiet beneath the traffic

fully exhaling

like a qi gong practitioner
might whisper

--- e b bortz

back in the day, hank williams lived a couple hours up the road

before elvis and long before dylan
when the roads were all two-lane
and the poverty shacks
jumped right out
to the pavement or gravel 
from the black soil
and if you look closely
it's all still there
more hidden
behind tall pines and sawmills
paper mills
abandoned cotton fields
trash burning power plants
     never getting the recycle message

every lonesome whistle voice

jabs you in the ribs
skinny ribs at that
that's not a twang you're hearing
but a moan
by the time summer comes
you won't be sweating
the small things
but looking for a
last-chance way out
from this downward spiral hell
they're trying to sell you
as so-called reform

when the fog finally lifts

hank williams will still be
yodeling from his grave
     in every whistle
     a long refrain

--- e b bortz

reckoning

can mean a lot of different things
to a lot of different people
plant or animal

start at the beginning

with the original people
living on turtle island

one with the natural world

hands hard but free
until the guns and chains arrived

     if we cannot see this

     there is no purpose
     read no further

the original people

on this original land
were left with:  

flee     fight     reservation     assimilation

and then die

     in this
the original sin

so the malls and freeways followed

the corrupt money
from a world of dirty suits and charlatans

this gets you close to the real

real as the moon
bringing in the tide

where every border falls

on its own weight of deceit
     a natural balancing

walk back to the primal forest

away from the chaos
where all else is secondary

where reckoning might begin

--- e b bortz

fog crawled in my inner ear

leaving a message

on the drum
i was expecting it
     the beat that is
so hard to decipher now
in the fog

words will never suffice

it clouds all memory

     the fog that is
not unlike the steam
from a rainforest
or a coconut cluster approaching ripe

you're never sure

when it's time

--- e b bortz

earth note 553

fort morgan, alabama

traffic to & from the ferry landing

has taken on manic speed
just before the start
of sunday afternoon tv football games
     sweat and beer breath
inching toward kickoff
high stakes terrible towels
flapping in the wind
high rollers
and pay as you go pickup trucks
gunning it
thru the bicycle lane

--- e b bortz

the sun finally shines on mobile bay

enough

to raise enough heads
out of the sand
to see the forest and the savanna
shake off years
of denial

--- e b bortz

earth note 552

mobile bay

talk is cheap

keep your mouth closed
unless you want the sand
to brush your teeth

ice shears

like alberta clipper
not the best way
to get your coiffure

tomorrow

the sun

--- e b bortz

earth note 551

 

gulf of mexico

great blue heron

on a fast break
before cold rain
sets in

each day comes

with mystery
love turns
on simple contradictions

a being is more

than a heartbeat
a wing is freer
than the wind

--- e b bortz

earth note 550

gulf of mexico, alabama

surf crashes home

after a night of southern drawls
and denial

beer is too easy to find

in the grocery stores
no plastic no paper we bring our own

so you give way

to the weakness
like the oil rigs got you by the short hairs

save your bottles

for the recyclers
the sand dunes grow and then disappear

--- e b bortz

summer 1966

a beat-up greyhound
made its way
for thirty-eight teenagers
awakened and restless
off steaming streets
northside pittsburgh
to washington dc
with our banners
jobs not war
marching
right up to the white house
joined by a thousand more
drums and spirits

we were noticed

but not heard

and after the march

i found a ride to a
nearby state park
where we camped
under the biggest dipper
campfires
secret kisses
tingling all the way
to my toes
i can't remember too many more details
'cept to say it was
     real

--- e b bortz

earth note 549

 

alabama moonshine

takes the 800 ton gorilla
near the beach
at its word
greed

a gas flare is not

a sign from the north church
but a few more paul reveres
or dolphins
might lend a voice

--- e b bortz