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

font

is like a passport

a means of going

and returning

sometimes it's a seamless transition

often it falls far short

fools you into believing

you have more to say

than what meets the eye

an eye for an i 

is not an eye opener

just an extension

of ego

--- e b bortz

earth note 758

the road dust of socorro county new mexico

has a grainy brown red hue to it

it'll layer your lips even

leave you unable to whistle

unlike the songbirds and pinyon pine 

pushing out against the wind 

the dust leaving a chalky aftertaste

even long after the white sands missile range road

goes quiet

--- e b bortz  

another september eleventh goes by

without acknowledging the open hand

turning backs are like shutting doors

sinking life rafts sending up flares

how can any of this be rational

every scream is indelible

marking every human survivor

what is not burning at this moment

is getting ready

there is always another way

a million footsteps

didn't just spring up out of nowhere

you can't plow fields with bayonets

     or drones

that outstretched arm

is our lifeline

--- e b bortz

earth note 757

to shelter in place

is that all we have left

at least here

in the alleghenies

where the last

of the green maples

are the shelter

from california to kansas

the forests are burning

thru the ambivalence

maybe that's not the right word

the lock on the mind

now free

waiting for a helicopter rescue

it was just a couple years ago

that we camped in the big pines

outside of durango

the gravel road leading in

was usually quiet

i wonder how it is today

do we run or shelter in place

cell towers to fracking pads

to manicured lawns

to window rocks

     a sunrise stolen

--- e b bortz

what if sisyphus had accomplices

would we still be where we're at

or would we have built

an equilateral rock garden by now

free and open on all sides

or would we have been stoned

by the authorities

reloading and riding their catapults

mandated by the imperial senate

no one can rewrite history

nor even fantasy

without understanding context

the stones you carry

may not be your own

nonetheless

there should be no stigma

in sharing the burden

--- e b bortz

earth note 756

white pines

waving

twenty feet up

by twenty feet wide

like a carpet spreading

needles long and lush

rolling with the wind

the heat has finally moved on

giving the young cardinals a reprieve

and what you might expect

as an end-of-summer quiet

is now a perfect song

--- e b bortz

earth note 755

surat thani province thailand 1989

an ocean spray

on an open deck

i feel each drop

run down my face

two european women

throw their heads back

speaking fluent thai

laughing      animated

bicycle at rest

coming in from miles of smoky hills

equator sun bouncing wet

like the waves

na thon port koh samui

loud & packed

tuk-tuks shove

i head for the island ring road

--- e b bortz