camus came out of the forest

a cigarette dangling on his lips

his eyes open but squinting

documents in a rucksack

over his left shoulder

poems stuffed in his back pocket

the mountains to his back

gleaming an afternoon light

a long way from the dark back alleys

of his boyhood home in algeria

he of all people was a guide

     pacifist TB lungs and all

for the international anti-fascist volunteers

crossing over from france to spain

     this was 1936-37

and the battle for madrid was before them

there were writers & poets

and steelworkers

and cadre of the great san francisco general strike

but camus kept his eyes on the trail

     a third eye some might argue

that bourgeois boasters were incapable

     of seeing from their inflated perches and journals

camus learned the song lyrics the first time

in more than one language

long before hemingway drank

from the magic well of

one big resistance

so many years and polemics

have passed mostly without purpose

there's no need to explain or separate

allegory from historical record

let the spanish soil speak for itself

camus still stands

on the outer edge of puerta del sol

a third eye

a vision

--- e b bortz

earth note 775

there's a wild dark wind

& a couple of alberta spruce

joined at the hip

davening to an ancient rhythm

just before sunrise

the line of sight

meets a clearing

puddles and slush

snow melt taking off

down the avenue

dark grit

& manic strings of traffic

get left behind

confused

trying to find their own way

--- e b bortz

earth note 774

this is all from memory

so blame me if you missed it

     red-black-yellow-orange

streaks across the sky

like a sunrise storm

barren trees standing out

to proclaim

a new day

is not so new

the camera lost

or still in hiding

but eventually

we will all taste

the peach & pear trees

after this misery year

after the ridge thaws

and decides

it's time to bear fruit

--- e b bortz

earth note 773

gray clouds churning up

more snow

the dog looks out the window

barks at the squirrels

day comes with borrowed light

winter solstice comes and goes

looking for deep celestial bodies

to align

--- e b bortz 

anishinaabe

snow squalls across turtle island

from the ice shoulders

of the mississippi

the lakes and forests speak in many voices

thru the warm hearts of the elders & youth

water protectors all

     standing

with the free flow of the river

     the original people

--- e b bortz

earth note 772

dark hills fade to white

snow pile slips off neighbor's roof

river & sky rise

--- e b bortz

nurka's corner minnesota itasca county route 8

cloverdale park circa 1976 and beyond

an outdoor ice rink 

flooded & frozen by late november

within sight of jack pine     tamarack

white birch bark

like a holy scroll

the snow can get crusty

against the sky

sharp deepest blue

mitten weather not gloves

the sound of puck and stick

a statement

not an echo

--- e b bortz

leon's house hazelwood pittsburgh

circa 1960

city steps endless climb and descend

coal dust on new fallen snow

from beginning and ending

of every horizon

gray shadows in the clusters

of frame houses

rising and falling

in history

rivers

& hot metal exhaust

jeans & boots

dry on the top

of the hot air heating duct

--- e b bortz 

the dogma of the dollar bill

it carries the smell

of sweat     ink and hands

the knees and lower back

know the feeling

sometimes the hands

go numb thinking that

there might be an equal

distribution down the road

skyscrapers are tilting like pisa

with their accumulation

the people sitting on the curb

gather up the loose change

of what some call surplus value

i'm not convinced that there is

any value surplus or otherwise

worth litigating

fighting or dying for

the dollars are counted and recounted

before every election

after all

return on investment

is the name of the game

wash your hands vigorously

after touching it

keep it away from private parts

and wear a mask

--- e b bortz

earth note 771

humans stood on this hilltop

in the middle of winter

with their brows frozen

but hands warm

back straight

knowing each and every dead leaf

by name

     having moved on

--- e b bortz

earth note 770

photos by Sandra L Hazley

wind snow

white pine stand out

shout a perfect balance

a creamy gray sky

is satisfied

enough

light reigns in

to capture and save

the day

--- e b bortz

tears cross borders

without papers

the rainforest gives cover

without charge

a frozen lake

can hold the weight

of the world

there is no end

for the footsteps

no guide no map

your hold on the future

is only as good

as your grip today

--- e b bortz 

earth note 769

where the gunnison

flows into the colorado

where the summer heat

evaporates the life

out of grassy river beds

where cattails sprout

reeds bend to find water

these can be mighty rivers

at this junction

though sometimes

losing their way

a lost horizon

may lead to shangri-la

namaste nepal

and the dry season

shall pass

--- e b bortz

earth note 768

last of the yellow leaves

sharp against gray overcast

clouds moving west to east

pushing beyond

beaten down hills

hurry past melancholy

round tops duck for cover

looking for an early winter

--- e b bortz 

earth note 767

it started out as an early morning squawk

from a single crow

     not the usual here

gray chill covers the ridge

more crows coming

looking to find their bearings

the trees have been stripped

a bare branch becomes a brush

fallen leaves fill in the color

having lost their voices in the rain

--- e b bortz

earth note 766

albuquerque

until the sun

broke over the eastern mountains

the valley remained quiet

a misty dark

adobe houses cold as clay

a couple of bicycles panting

up the hill to the university

the neighborhood dogs

throwing out a bark

here & there

the empty lots & spaces

dry grainy brown

     indigenous

rail yards pointing west

& empty

--- e b bortz

earth note 765

inflection point

on the arc of the moon

the darkness seeping in

you are the root

just before the turning away

there's an angle for every moment

before the fade

back to original thoughts

where time is just a cloud cover

a promise of first snow

--- e b bortz

earth note 764

standing alone in the kansas wind

you don't need change in your pocket

roll with the wheat & sunflowers

the stark plains open

like a holy sea

--- e b bortz

ohio river ridge post election blue

particulates leave a bad taste in the dog park

the dogs know it even if you can't see it

the chemistry doesn't lie

downstream upwind they're hauling ass

to get the cracker plant going

no one listens to the barking

--- e b bortz

the shadow picks our campsite

oregon 2012

we went inland

from florence oregon

dog

tent

bicycles

kayaks

crammed in & over the van

the weather hot & dry

for the end of july

forest meeting rocky shore

mosquito season

pretty much petered out

we took the dirt road as far as

the mountains would let us

the dark about to set in quick

as the tent pops up

against a still pale moon

a wild wind dance

begins to speak

--- e b bortz

we made it to the dark side of the blue moon

just in time

for election day

the craters

were filled with piles

of unopened ballots

the main principals standing

with their arms folded

looking away

their smiles fixed in moon rock

moon currency bulging

from their zoot suits

moon howls

mistaken

for the wind

--- e b bortz 

earth note 763

since when did

rolling green summer

& golden autumn hills

become a photo backdrop

for political hypocrisy

you could have been honest

put the fracking rigs in the picture

towering above all

methane flaring valves

poisoned water wells

deep rutting off-road vehicles

go ahead

throw in drake's well

for your propaganda frame

tv harangue

i know you've said it a thousand times already

but these are your compromises

stand & deliver

your donors

who have paid in full

who know you can't wipe the grease

off an oak leaf cluster

or hide behind a plastic white hardhat

for posterity

or prosperity

an illusion

just over the hill

--- e b bortz

snow rescue granby colorado

dousing the mountain fires

and underground aquifers

cooling the burn

a china buffet once thrived down the road

sulfur hot springs waiting for summer

with the original people

crafting silver from the earth

a crossroads gas station gallery

a reservoir of tears

--- e b bortz

recovering notes from the deep, part 25

repairing washing machines

dryers and refrigerators

my dad always seemed to have an old panel truck

as the family vehicle

until at least the early 60s when

something in the air or on the

burgeoning interstate highway system

brought us to a '55 ford v8 with a 39 dollar

earl scheib turquoise paint job

the rust got covered and the floorboards undercoated

from pittsburgh winter sleet & slush

and at 16 & a driver's license

unleashing everything else

from drive-in to drive-thru

everything seemed to fall in place

when i saw her standing there

waiting for me on her porch

to just drive up

and make a rescue

from her lily white boilermaker dad

brentwood to skibo hall at carnegie tech

felt like a million miles

for two 16-year-olds

melting ice

inside a steamy '55 ford

     turquoise

--- e b bortz 

enlightened self-interest is an oxymoron

a rouge of self-deception

in other words stop haranguing my vegetables

they'll grow and die in their own time

start listening to something other than

a closing bell on the stock market

it's a death knell

i know the smell

of my own compost

it was never

manna from heaven

but simply vegetables

for what they are

before they rot

before the elections

before the gardens

broke their promise

to be eden

--- e b bortz

november 4, 2020

of course there will be

wednesday morning quarterbacks & pundits

still incessantly chattering in the streets

& months before the old president

finds his way to a cold steel cell

or he finds a way of fleeing with his entourage

for another tax escape haven

but i'm pretty sure most people

will take a deep breath

     hopefully with their masks still on

looking for a way to carry on from here

maybe we're four years on the doomsday clock

or four minutes

unless something new really takes hold

glacial melts & forest fires

make for an apocalyptic soup

     too much salt or allspice on both sides of the equator

sorry i have but one tongue

for two cheeks

my pair of deuces are little more than a bluff

if you want to scream

maybe do it in the woods

before the trees go bare

if you don't like an echo

leave your phone behind

--- e b bortz 

earth note 762

cold rain and dead leaves

interrupted by a final rush

of gold and yellow

missing the rockies another year

aspen switchback down the mountain

looking for what's left

of the great colorado

     the original stories hidden safely

     beneath the riverbed

tributaries where the songs begin

though the peaks

have lost their voice

--- e b bortz

earth note 761

three red eyes

on the maple

the third one will lead you

out-of-body

maybe even clairvoyance

get a job as a pundit

take the kids to the seashore

     (next year)

under the boardwalk

asbury park new jersey

ought to be a safe state

practice practice those six strings

until you bleed

don't get stuck with a pennsylvania hollow

there's a mosh pit in your future

     don't believe me

check that maple again

--- e b bortz

recovering notes from the deep, part 24

november 22, 1963

it was all uphill on brighton road

coming out of my buena vista basement door

and columbia place alleyway

running to beat the homeroom bell

long strides until i hit

the stone monument showroom

and then a final sprint

past the graveyard

and in thru the steel doors

of not a mausoleum

but close to it

     oliver high school

there were always a couple of stragglers

still smoking in the 'tunnel'

but i kept my distance

unless it suddenly became

smoke rings of the mind

or a tambourine

     (in time)

from homeroom to social studies

and world history i could coast

coming of age in the way that i did

finally on to band class

my clarinet always needing a new reed

i listened closely to the sax and trombone

and baritone and trumpet soloing

before class began

     these guys were from manchester

     & really knew how to jam it

near the end of the class

the music teacher brought

all of us into a circle

and announced that the president

had been shot dead in dallas

and that our tribute to him

might be the instrument in our hands

     & music we create

--- e b bortz

recovering notes from the deep, part 23

and a transistor radio

from a third floor pittsburgh walk-up

the first sound of

     like a rolling stone

     in the summer of 1965

and then someone like a growling young-old carpenter

blurting out it's nothing but petty-bourgeois bullshit

which i strongly and loudly disagreed with

and by the smile in your eyes

evidently you disagreed with too

when your father said you left your heart

in san francisco but your belongings in pittsburgh

it seemed to fit well in the conversation

as we both chuckled

and the harmonica wailed

--- e b bortz

earth note 760

subtlety doesn't come in fall colors

you're lucky if you remember the transition

from streetcar stone shelters 

along perrysville avenue to hybrid buses

the dogs still walk like there's no history

what's important to them & us is the now

if the now becomes the no more

all we have left is the bark

--- e b bortz

earth note 759

brown-green-brown  

a rhythm between the leaves

a cluster finds sunrise

then hides in the shadows

when i get back out

to the trail 

i will look for acorns

the season is bountiful 

a hawk 

or i should say

the hawk 

circles again

the last of the warm air

wings aloft

a valley of rivers

may still move mountains

--- e b bortz

echo park winter 1966-67

i caught a drive-a-way car

from pittsburgh to los angeles

just after my temp job ended

and a bulletin board 

led me to share a drive/ride

out of the cold sleet

escaping 'cross the country

landing in almost endless sunshine

on the door step of a friend

i felt somewhat imposing on

but hey when you're young

you have no inhibitions 

m had an old mg with the top off

almost all the time and it

brought us to griffith park

many days like a grand prix circuit

the observatory day or night

seemed like one of those great wonders

you heard about 

but never experienced coming from

darkness-at-the-break-of-noon

a car full one morning took us to delano 

to volunteer some hours 

with the farm workers union

we were warmly greeted by dolores huerta

and piles of flyers & envelopes for a mailing

back in l.a. there were picket lines to join 

at the safeway stores

for the grape boycott 

(or was it the gallo wine boycott at that time?)

if judy collins had ever knocked

on the door in echo park

she probably would have been greeted

by thirsty boots and other songs

from her fifth album

the mosaics of watts towers

took us to the beyond 

a place before the land 

was sacrificed

i think many of us 

still look to the beyond

let us all be whole

     once again     

with the land     forests     oceans

     our bodies

i thank all from whom i have learned

     we have but one language

--- e b bortz