earth note 574

in the spring

the river learns how
to climb the scaffolding
and bridge abutments
like the sure trusty feet
of an ironworker
who can strike an arc
even when hanging
upside down

.....

the flow down at the dam

has slowed
with the barges backing up
like a friday night rush hour

.....

by morning

the willows
will be stretching their torsos
roots digging in
for the dry season

--- e b bortz

i'm gonna walk past the screaming good friday headlines

keeping my eyes trained on what's coming up next
like a westbound freight train
rattling all the way to the pacific
where it runs out of land
and the mountains slope on down
to the columbia river
and the farmers gather every pitchfork
in the valley
and go to the courthouses
that feign justice but hide
their company ledgers
and tell the silo operators
that the world is just waiting
for the next famine
and if you question
any of this
you oughta go back to the drought
and forget about the next
bridge loan
'cause all the bridges
are coming down anyway
in the next correction
and all the words that might be left
that coulda made a difference
might as well be thrown in the compost heap
because you always knew
it would come to this
the breaking of the moonlight
doesn't mean
a new morning
is coming

--- e b bortz

earth note 573

there's no claim

to notoriety here
but a rain soaked
maple limb
just took a dive
across the avenue
i saw it in all stages of its fracture
and fall
and then it tumbled
down the hillside a few feet
came to a tentative rest
where it goes from here
is mere speculation

--- e b bortz

love locks you above panther hollow

 

 

early spring sun

strong and direct

to the soul

 

--- e b bortz

stream of consciousness

rises in the spring
like no other body

the banks overflow

when you least expect it
first thought not necessarily best

but speaking within the instant
can be dangerous
and liberating all the same

the news can be such a downer

until the streets are flooded
with voices

--- e b bortz

earth note 572

loose tears in the snow

the roof of your mouth is dry
in spite of the sun

--- e b bortz

optimism is a false flag i've decided to burn

there

i finally said it
not that i've given up
on any just cause
if the song fits the feeling
keep me in the choir
my tongue
has lost a few steps
& there's an extra touch
of bitterness
     we've been unable
     to stop the carnage
and i'm not so sure
when or even if
this will pass

but i'm pretty sure

i've given up
on flags

--- e b bortz

if you could assign a mathematical curve

for a growing ecological awareness
versus a curve
for fossil fuel exploitation
& consumption

make no mistake

these are essentially
two diametrically opposed
human endeavors

at this moment in time

the dark exponential curve of the fossil
is dominant
smothering the gradual green curve
of rising social consciousness

look no further than the 'natural' gas 'fields'

of pennsylvania
or the coal-fired power plant construction of china

the world meets

the planet burns some more
congress is so obedient
they don't warrant a mention

the situation is dire

the curve has jumped off the page
a serial killer out of control
where are the public service announcements
for children and other living things

"don't leave home without your respirator"

--- e b bortz

earth note 571

the river is a drum
every beat a signal
from the past
the direction of the flow
is not as important
as the origin

there were hands and clay

in the form of riverbanks
before the railroads
the hillsides were lush
campfires spoke
in their native tongue

when the river flooded

there was an exodus
     contingencies
and canoes
higher ground
was always within reach

crops came to the valleys

from original seed
rain brought sun
in perfect proportions
for every empty basket
there were full ones to share

the river is a drum

--- e b bortz

(published in Resurrection River Poems, Kent OH, 2019)

i'm glad i didn't try & write a poem today

ya know
you're only as good as your last one
so i know when it's time to walk away for awhile
before you cast it
or throw it up
over the internet

sometimes making up bullshit

can be counter-productive
or counter-revolutionary
or both

though i've never seen it

i can imagine
how an apprentice or american idol
might just go on without caring
about ultimate consequences
     for every porta-potty
     there's an advertiser
     trying to sell you shit

but they're not the poets

they're not the stewards

hah

gotcha

--- e b bortz

recovering notes from the deep, part 17

d had olive skin

     imagine joan baez
but then deserting
her northside roots
for some guy
in the shady side academy

but before all that

she spoke to me
in the hallway
at oliver high school
asking me when i moved
to the northside
and how was it going

it wasn't

since being uprooted
once again
and never adjusting
to the fall hay fever season
and coal dust clouds
rising off the allegheny
monongahela & ohio valleys

everybody at oliver

seemed to have a chip on their shoulder
at one time or another
myself included

and it would be another year

before my attempt at track & football
trading in a trench coat
with the collar turned up
for eventually a letter sweater
with a big orange "o"
but all of that
too late
for d

--- e b bortz

think then write

is what i've been told
by those in the know

'cept i usually stand it

on its head

with something closer to

write then think

if you keep at it long enough

it'll all shake out like a cobweb

or freewheeling

like a coffee klatch

without a compass

every direction is possible

without a hammer

the noise is never deafening

--- e b bortz

earth note 570

marshall trail

it's still too early

in the year
to tell
among the ravaged
who survived the winter
and who didn't make it

the tree line

looks broken in parts
gaps like missing teeth

broken branches and new buds

have joined the trail
crossing over
like a blended family

perhaps they'll find a nurturer

and take root

--- e b bortz

earth note 569

the distance from the map
to the highway
is incalculable
and then
where the tall pines sway
just from the rotation of the earth
there's the little pend oreille river
sometimes called pond-du-ray
by internet french
or just a lazy listener
but make no mistake
the falls near route 20
might take you years to find
take nothing for granted
pack up your sorrows
as the song goes
and then fill your body
with the magic water

--- e b bortz

tariffs and a thousand rivets will not save us

 

--- e b bortz

waitin for the messiah down on federal street

circa 1963, northside pittsburgh

by the end of november

there's a cow bell clanging salvation
just across from the kenyon theatre

as mouse & me stop at the crowded candy store

with the pinball machine that scarfs up
our last two nickels

from there it's just the wilderness

of the 6th street bridge
and the cold mist off the allegheny

but as we reach halfway across the water

a big pink cadillac convertible comes roaring thru
with the top down heading up federal street

we turnaround quick & see the top of a black fedora

& cigarette smoke blowing upward
like the sign of a new pope

this all stops us in our tracks

not knowing what this all symbolizes
digging into our pockets for loose change

which i swear was given up just ten minutes earlier

nonetheless
finding & flinging our offerings

off into the river

--- e b bortz

recovering notes from the deep, part 16

it's a little less than a mile

from the bottom of buena vista street
to the top
where it meets perrysville avenue

a short distance

that pretty much follows
a very roundabout
fifty-year-plus journey

about halfway up

it becomes cobblestones
and steep
and it's right about there
that i remember
as a fourteen-year-old
climbing out from the third floor window
& sitting out on the flat roof
sometimes with a guitar
always with the heat of the summer
making the valley quiver in the distance
dream-like

my dad & i lived in the single room attic

big enough for us
even with the clothes rack dividing
the living room-kitchen from
the beds

a social worker came one day

and asked us if this was a suitable place
for doing homework
'cause she was interested in me
getting into the first upward bound program
for under-achievers
and we said
yes
it was a quiet enough place
and i wanted to try it

so the summer became

a dorm room at carnegie tech
& streetcar trips to parts of pittsburgh
i never imagined

during the fine arts portion

of upward bound
i learned how to meditate
and breathe
lying flat on my back
unraveling all the angst
stored in an adolescent mind

and it seemed every student

was having this kind
of transformation

when i graduated high school

i decided to move out
& get my own attic apartment
and wouldn't you know
this move was a whole quarter-mile
to a bluff off of buena vista street
called geranium

i ended up with roommates

a lot of partying
marginal jobs
refusing army induction
political activism
drifting in & out of commitments
and relationships
and just shiftless enough
to walk away from
a scholarship at pitt
though one of my roommates
did make progress
on his goddard college degree
while working at
j & L steel


but of course all of this
was somewhat irrelevant
since the revolution
was on its way
anyway

so where did all of this bring me

from a third floor window and roof
in the middle of buena vista street
to new neighborhoods
     mountains & forests      
     canyons & oceans
where even deserts can be sanctuaries
where i faithfully emote
between forgotten words
     as the sun is opening
     from gray to blue
     and only now
     the valley brings vision

--- e b bortz

recovering notes from the deep, part 15

march 1970, pittsburgh

ninety-one people arrested

on the sidewalk
in front of presbyterian hospital
during a hospital workers strike
and support picket line
mostly young
chanting & singing

the paddy wagons were lined-up

and idling ready along fifth avenue
and then quickly filled
from their cold hollow insides
with bodies
doors slamming
and rolling toward
the old allegheny county jail downtown

it was hard to believe

that the jailers would line us up
     naked
     bent over
and tell us to spread our cheeks

and then issue each

a loose fitting jumpsuit
and escorts to our assigned
cell block

by that time

it was evening
& the word went out
that there would be no judge or charges
until the next day
if we were lucky

so i had a cell to myself

with a lonely overhead light
a cold chain suspended bed
stretching out
     my arms tucked under my head

isolated from other prisoners

the night dragged on indefinitely
losing all sense of time
no familiar sounds other than
a rattling of steel bars once in awhile

my mind's eye

found solace
thinking of my wife
home and seven months pregnant

it might have been a morning meal tray

that woke me
and then deciding
it would be healthier to pass up breakfast

by late afternoon we were presented

en masse
to the judge in his robes & all
his mind made up that we were
obstructing something
by our peaceful protest on the sidewalk

i think the hospital workers union

absorbed the fines
we parted ways afterwards
with hugs & handshakes
gathering up our personal items
from the jail
on our way to our respective bus stops

the struggle went on

--- e b bortz