time traveler

camus would often wear one of those
mister rogers sweaters when he walked
his french poodles thru the narrow linear park
along friendship avenue

the dogs of course were intellectuals

they were so smart they would curl their own hair

camus did his best to do all of his cigarette smoking
     outside
the dogs would have it no other way

in summer       there would always be a neighborhood festival

with prizes awarded for the best spaghetti sauce
and the best tomato plants       camus always entered
but never won     few people knew him other than
by his poodles     the guy with the poodles

he always carried a small spiral notepad and pen

he gathered recipes and poetry in the alleys
and wrote in phonetic french the sound of every
dog bark in the neighborhood

he gazed into each humid night

often speaking to himself
sometimes in his study
in an attic along friendship avenue
or standing on the old carriage step stones
much like a soapbox
like a voice to be reasoned with
unafraid and mostly ignored

he read newspapers incessantly

connecting the dots
long before the french workers and students '68 revolt
long before the counter-revolutionary bullshitters
left their privileged castes

even before the paris commune 

there was his lonely death
in the sports car of his publisher

--- e b bortz

earth note 578

an in-between time

like the sun
partially moving
past thick dark clouds
or the blossoming of magnolia
before a total acclimation
to spring

the river valley will flood again

     soon
confusing all the muscle car drivers
thinking it's summer
weeping with the demise
of the last drive-in movie
the beach on the river
where your hair slicks back
sunning on cold pebbles
old barges growing shrubbery
from their hulls
sumac still looking
for a place to root

--- e b bortz

poverty is a rabbit cage

and dead carcasses
when food is scarce
the front yard tells part of the story
what is collected in scrap metal
and used tires
makes a grown man weep
if the newscaster and police insist on shame
make it something to be shared
this city has a long history
of ignoring pain
with renaissance projects
urban renewals
hand-outs to those most able
to buy a politician's ear

a man needed a meal

and thought he could pull himself up
out of the west end valley
appalachian rock fall
selling and eating rabbits and chickens
scrounging enough to spice up his
convenience store lunch table
with beef jerky

as the police yanked him into the cruiser

with a blanket draped over his head
     a murderer they said
the dead and near-dead animals desperate
beyond their cages
joining a collective scream

for a country buried in its own feces

--- e b bortz

earth note 577

photos by Sandra L Hazley

the road to the sun

had to first pass through
tundra
moss
bald bare rock
sometimes lost
rocky mountain goat
bighorn sheep
your winter coat
dug out from under
the camping gear
a steady stream
melting glacier
abandoning history
crossing in front of you

--- e b bortz

earth note 576

photos by Sandra L Hazley

a glacier disappearing in drought
leaves a footprint and a message
only the horses will notice
as they comb the free pastures
just below the tree line
far beyond the fences

there's a pine forest

bleeding silently
refusing to be an annuity
     breathing
     for us all

--- e b bortz

from the arch the body draws in the heat

there's an angle of the sun

that only the pueblo can see
it dances with millennia
leaving others to stumble in darkness

the small of your back

becomes part of the stone
all the light will gather
and then slip past you

--- e b bortz

earth note 575

the hillside is slipping

ground rolls in dark soggy shoulders
inertia speaks for itself
     with the wind
     more gray sky
     moves

--- e b bortz