earth note 590

we've done our best

to follow the natural contours
of the land
all of its raw spirit
from the grand tetons
towering above
where there are no paths
or maps 
just inner voices
speaking
where all else
is silent

--- e b bortz

earth note 589

heat and wind can't decide

     shimmering
how it'll get through the day
maybe just give up and rain
i watch the leaves for direction
volatile
erratic
bearing down on the avenue
the cars have become manic
     and now a police car
     gunning it
     lights flashing

there's a robin who hangs around

most every day
on the roof gutter
never much to say
skittish before
taking off
dodging just over the box truck

not a good day to move

--- e b bortz

earth note 588

photos by Sandra L Hazley

little torch key

every warning has a storm

even as the water becomes quiet
and your hands
take flight

--- e b bortz

earth note 587

gray clouds
have their own sound
falling to earth
hollow

my eyes

are tuned to listening
from bare mist
there's heavy breathing

maples remain still

in their own language
hiding in green
anonymously

--- e b bortz

earth note 586

a poet travels light

     barefoot
in a full body
of white pine sprouts
before going thin
as bamboo

--- e b bortz

earth note 585

old bahia honda bridge

a sunset can be a portal

north or south
no decision is final
there's always a chance
to change direction
when the manta ray gather
follow the shadows

--- e b bortz

earth note 584

before it's all over

everything will have its say
even the chainsaw
peeking out of the city park
an unabashed counterfeit dollar
looking for a quick cash-out
or just following orders
     future generations of buds
     damned
     before they're born

--- e b bortz

earth note 583

canopy waving
leaves turning over
like hands opening to rain
or an ocean surf
or a corner of the world
that can't be bought

i never understood

much about the buddha
except the stillness of the form
in the heat
in the afternoon

before the monsoon

your body will drip
like a rubber tree
water not blood
is where the river begins

if the soul could speak

it would begin
with a whisper
that you might not hear

once in a rainforest

i heard but never saw
a waterfall
laughing in steady rhythm
     like a heartbeat

--- e b bortz

don't talk to me about context

the editorials leave blood on the page
the only thing real
are dead palestinians
at the gaza border
drones survey a plain of death
thousands of gunshot wounds
below the kneecap
a generation missing limbs
facing a generation of snipers
where symbols have no meaning
you only need to see
the missing limbs

--- e b bortz

earth note 582

photos by Sandra L Hazley

bear river, nova scotia, late summer 2004

as the tide went

so went the clam pickers
the artists having now moved in
praising the ritual
as old as human feet at this inlet
there's a frame house with dylan's verse
painted on in bold mind-blowing colors
     one hand waving free    
     in quotes

at the mi'kmaq gathering

the drums and dream catchers
find whale voices
in harmony

--- e b bortz

earth note 581

 

canyon walls like cursive

their lines impatient with the sun

and the river rush     

     an echo below 

when dusk comes
there are words that fit the poem

you think you've found

before they adjust and move on

 

fissures are connected

passing over each hour

finding new meaning

from warm and cold rock

     a grounding for the body

 

there might be talk from some

that a hand came down

to touch all this

 

or maybe it's just magic

beyond the supernatural

the sun and moon

with a hand as well 

by night
a new song

and galaxy

will take flight

 

--- e b bortz

earth note 580

i thought the end of the road

would T-off into
two new directions
so i kept walking
even shin-deep in peat
wetlands to feed
all of your best intentions
but no
that isn't enough
the end of the road just
brings you back
to where you started

when ginsberg played his squeeze box

all the walls and cigarette smokers
went into a panic
even strom thurmond shit his pants
the monsters went into hiding
even if it was just
for an overnight

then when you least expect it

the road will turn dry and rocky
the heat will pry out every last
drop of your brow
leaving you a hollow frame
in place of that fleshy smile
lips love
diving into

at some point

you'll become
lost
on the great prairie
of endless sunflowers
without fear or compass
and earth
will breathe
in spite of the plunderers

--- e b bortz

climb inside the words

for a sound
without rehearsal
from a root
beginning renewal
where a river
chases a dream

even with the body

flesh is but a medium

--- e b bortz

earth note 579

i will only think of wild flowers today

crowding out
the know-it-all
and know-it-less
selling a thousand kinds
of toothpaste and ointments
often confused with preparation h
like another advertising blitz
of wealthy health insurance companies
for the healthy only

--- e b bortz