if i was paranoid it would be time to speak and write in code

something really obscure

or maybe just straight up

like notes from the gallows

     or svoboda

there aren't many escapes

from the blue     brown shirt     camouflage uniforms

& their assault weapons

piling up in gun stores

movie theaters

football stadiums

new legions of national guard inductees

you may have seen all of this before

deep breathing can help

whisper with every chance you get

check in on your neighbors

--- e b bortz

earth note 744

the road thru the park

is becoming undone

rough on the edges

hillsides slipping

the rain finding a new flood plain

maybe it's another

great glacial movement underway

from some remote tangential corner

of big rock candy mountain

     too many promises promises

     planet earth

--- e b bortz

earth note 743

seemingly a contradiction

between a swan lake

and a rust bucket iron ore pit

the rain hits the water in the same way

the clouds make their way

before the first shift finishes

but there's a logic to working straight thru

before getting five days off

the rain will stop soon and by late fall

the ponds will freeze

it'll be time to bury the mind

and yield to the frozen tamarack

ask the wetlands for direction

mark the landmarks in your own way

so as not to get lost

on the way back

the headwaters of the mississippi

never promised anyone

a free baptismal

but this is no time or place

to get in to

who died

for who's sins

the forest speaks

in infinite colors

more spirits than psalms

ojibwe

wild rice

the living language

for every root

there is a source

--- e b bortz

earth note 742

the tops of the maples are turning over impatient

like a heavy breathing wind storm

status quo bituminous

digging through the bowels of low coal

pulmonary blood letting

still popular like black dust

--- e b bortz

everyone left us to an empty road

pre-virus tucumcari to conchas new mexico

they call it the canadian river that runs

near the two-lane

from a state park lake/reservoir confluence in the north

it makes for a quiet sunday morning

sunny dry december

hills in pinyon pine

other than a few lost seagulls

our voices carry

like an intruder

serendipitously

we've been sent

to the outer edges of a singing bowl

of a rock face

that leaves

with a smile

--- e b bortz

red-green-yellow

cardinal red clashes

into the foreground

moving like a rhythm

long forgotten

no one asks

for a map

or which side of the equator

you might wake up on

maple leaves offer

the most promise

if you can't find any

go with poplar

forsythia before the drought

aspen if you get high enough

if sunflowers are planted

the bees will sing

--- e b bortz

the deep blue sky has been waiting for the virus

to show up

like a gunslinger

then go about

and open a secret or two

how many times have we heard

that the best minds of the generation

have been bordering on the absurd

there's a sunflower sutra for this kind of day

at some point

you will walk past the sirens

your face and ears covered

deep into a restless forest

it's all within reach

you don't need an invitation

there is no ideological acid test

when the kids finally grab their diplomas

& bury them in the memory

from this kind of day

this kind of future

billions of bodies

hold on in a fault line

crashing glaciers

maybe the beginning

of the end of history

a virologist will rise on easter

and sing all praises

to the scientific method

so make way

for a sun today

that won't give up

--- e b bortz

earth note 741

rain finally rescues the woods

dampness will try & carry on for weeks

ponderosa have a knack for spacing themselves

but there are no ponderosa in these parts

everyone's an orphan

the trails will dry up with a hundred feet

deer hooves trail off

when you're not paying attention

i've been guilty more than once

for wearing blinders

woodpecker beats between raindrops

a hollow lonely call & answer

i've been waiting with my ear on the ridge

--- e b bortz

it took a snowfall in may to wake me

coventry, over the fence from lake view cemetery, cleveland

a high green wooden fence

my cousin's backyard where we played hide & seek

peeking thru the cracks

i could see headstones

too still for the impatience

of an eight-year-old

many decades later

still no hiding places

only the words of daniel thompson

the poet freedom rider carries on

food to the hungry

quiet and fiery

in john brown's body

the snow passed when darkness fell

--- e b bortz

i've come to this voice

mostly by accident

from mean & gentle streets & highways

it cracks when wind overpowers mountains

leaving only the chill of lake ontario all year round

the city parks are just over your shoulder

find the sycamores for your bearings

find the aspen when you're about

to give up hope

it'll carry you to the next dimension

find the rush of the cuyahoga before it goes afoul

find a window rock before you lose your sight

follow the rio grande in all of its tongues

let your hands reach out to deaden the pain

find the confluence before the whitewater

takes your breath away

find the perfect snow to a frozen wetland

search the stumps and count the rings

place your stones and say kaddish

if you still have tears

gather them in your beer glass

find a body on a steamy august

find a body before the pipes freeze

give the marigolds a reason to bloom

give the phlox enough ground to spread the gospel

find a trail without a trail head

find a desert that hasn't given up

pick up trash before the river eats it

don't take the first words

or even the second

like it's an epitaph

--- e b bortz