'tis the season

the crows found a way into the garbage

a murder you could call it

the grapefruit musta had just enough

vitamin c left

to make it most desirable

     also

too many candy wrappers

for good dental hygiene

it rained most of the night

cardboard recyclables soaking up

the morning

     warm again

it must be spring

--- e b bortz

earth note 836

we waited too long

to shake the pear tree

maybe next year will be different

'course the deer & the mourning dove

need a break too

this pear tree could have played

in the nba

towering above even the pines

always bending with the wind

someone told me

a stepladder is not a new invention

--- e b bortz

earth note 835

when the longest night ended

an owl called out halfway down the ridge

it's about time to start listening

the treetops finally went motionless

school buses took to the avenue

a month late

the new variant has grabbed

every headline

it feels like a choke hold

the country needs a long sick leave

even the river takes the magic

out of the valley & sends it down

into endless grey

coal for the stockings

we can always come up

with another pretext

before congress goes home

--- e b bortz

so what if a long december is self-absorbed

where a dry river use to flow

it doesn't mean next year

will be a total bust

you can search the shoreline

before the first snow

touch every part of it

follow it to the ocean

take a rain check

on finding just the right metaphor

to describe the empty mist

the whole planet is in a mist

there are chords you have

in your back pocket

never used

if you get desperate

a few of them will do

there are california smoke jumpers

to bring you through next year

you can join them on jack's ridge

take enough water & respirators

for the crew

remember that the rivers are dry

remember that this isn't just

another lonely

misdirected

heartache

--- e b bortz 

autumn requiem

joins the rain gutter 

snare rhythm section

pinging just before another cloud burst

before a thorough dousing

a dog barks on the heels 

of base drum echo

where saints are marching up the avenue

exhausted leaves in their wake

still a couple weeks

'til the winter solstice

--- e b bortz 

earth note 834

there's a gravel pit

battered machinery

and a sour water well

at the end of the limestone road

beyond that

black mountain rises fast

to get away

gray days wear you down

running out of time

is always just an approximation

your feet are your best tools

search & remember

each trail head & valley

for new flora

--- e b bortz 

i dreamt the mariana trench

in the western pacific

would be deep enough

to accept the tears of the planet

but of course the tears never end

and everything changes

even the shadows on the moon

from the top of si surat stupa

the ocean gleams with pride

sending off each wave

like a kiss

but of course the kiss ends

everything changes

even the shadows from the sun

on songkhla beach the sand rushes off

in a steep undertow

taking the breath

right out of you

like tears

--- e b bortz 

camus found a shortcut

below the bloomfield bridge

a lot of the neighbors

refused to acknowledge this

they were satisfied to cling to the old ways

& their own narrow paths & visions

but there are open fields and tall grass

and a hidden pond i've been told

where the painters and weavers and sculptors

left their marks over the years

and where few even know about this

of course there are plenty of gray days

that hang over the steel superstructure

a legacy to hot metal plunder

but when you look closely

you can still see as camus saw

an earth that refuses all previous assumptions

caressed by a gentle hand of forgotten dreams

water to feed the most thirsty

a morning skylight with a wet brow

a forgotten trail to bring us home

--- e b bortz 

there are no alleys on geranium ridge

and when the clouds permit

the sun throws everything

at the ideal

even buena vista

a street as well as an aura

passing through our barely

post-adolescent lifelines

the sweat of our palms

impossible as it may seem

you told me once

it was a long walk home

like passing through the valley

of crying children

though you loved children

and you left before

the valleys were left in rust

'neath a stack of lost church pews

& scattered red bricks

from woods run

you went back east

before going out west again

and i can't say

i blame ya

but before all that

why'd you hook up

in a lost fleeting moment

with a guy singing

(off-key)

& phony

right outta the military-industrial 

draft board songbook

geranium street emptied over the years

but i think the city steps might still be there

up to the buena vista cobblestones

watch out for the drop-off

before the flowers bloom

test the earth before you step

but don't run away

with your hands in your pockets

--- e b bortz

roads riverbeds canyons buttes & mesas

i know these words have been used

more elegantly than here

sometimes we wait too long

for the perfect phrase

combinations of underused words

won't fool anybody

how many times have the leaves changed

before and after their sequence of prime colors

or from the terra incognita

you wait for the perfect

that never comes

the road will sort us all out

in the end

at some point

there will be dust squalls

& flash floods

the land has a watchful eye

& never made promises

--- e b bortz

earth note 833

leaves fall like hollow words

onto the paper

onto the street

the sun finally making

its grand entrance

letting the yellow stand out on its own

& the sugar maple coming home

     late

this year the whole world

must be watching

empty suits and stolen satchels

     ad nauseam

say something new already

waiting for the forest

     to rise

above the ashes

somewhere there's gotta be a rainmaker

the white pine

have shed their brown needles

it would appear now

in our ignorance

that all is well

--- e b bortz

earth note 832

the leaves are grudgingly

turning color

the avenue is in a morning rage

everybody seems to be drying out

for the weekend

crazy as it may seem

the lilacs are still blooming

--- e b bortz

earth note 831

bluster moving up

from the park maples

late afternoon yesterday

the crows had a sense of it

all heading toward

the furry south side slopes

where freight cars rattle

beneath the trestle

where the river winds

everything up

like the wind

screaming

--- e b bortz

earth note 830

i don't know where

the turquoise trail

begins or ends

if you follow the stone

the sky will eventually

show you the way

there's no heaven

hell

or purgatory

along the way

what is genuine

needs no polishing

a garden of the gods

has no private property

--- e b bortz

earth note 829

on a day

when the greentree water tower

visibly blends into a reflection

on the ohio river

moving as it does thru a transitory

big bend

north by northwest

there's clearly enough sunshine

to spin the electric netmetering

green wave

in your favor

--- e b bortz

an empty night comes to morning

even after an eastern rain

leaves you cold

looking from the outside

to what warms you inside

the avenue stays quiet

through the dark

when you reach the hilltop

there will be woods and trails

under the overcast

a seed begins with a purpose

in itself

no explanation needed

--- e b bortz

earth note 828

dark gives way to morning

the mist hangs on for a few more hours

these are simple exercises of the imagination

it's still too dark to know for sure

a large pear dropped yesterday

with a worm hole fully embedded

worm 1

human 0

the wind turbines out west

are growing by leaps & bounds

a lot of gas wells are frozen

in their own rust

every tar sands oil pipeline

will leave a new trail of tears

you don't need to believe me

but don't trust anyone over 30

--- e b bortz

earth note 827

new mexico route 4

the mountain crust

became the stone

of thousand-year

communities

artisan hands

multitudes of free people

before the invaders

every tree growing up

with its own sacred lineage

the web of life is no catch phrase

to be expropriated

in gold coins & crosses

if you listen closely

there's a language of survival

speaking only

through the silence

--- e b bortz 

a country with the fog of war in its eyes

photo by Sandra L Hazley

winter wheat

will be the savior

on a road 

looking for good samaritans

--- e b bortz

earth note 826

thirty-six east to hannibal missouri

1.

came out of the bottom of a cloud burst

it's been said this was a long time coming

the hills restless

twisting & turning

a mad rain

raging down just to get even

leaving some of the big rigs

& wide loads

desperate for a wide shoulder

to cry on

2.

a few days earlier

on a new mexico dusty gravel road

all aboriginal land jicarilla apache nation

eventually leading to pagosa springs colorado

the new mexico / colorado 'state line'

was suddenly noted

in a woman's voice

maybe blond on blond

with a tongue in cheek

'welcome to colorado'

3.

sorghum should be the name

now known for kansas

from northeast africa

to the great plains

without chattel

without molasses

let the sunflowers grow

--- e b bortz

earth note 825

autumn slipped onto the high desert

     incognito

unlike the east

clusters of dry leaves

hear the call

& gather for rituals

mountain rain

to wash the aspens

--- e b bortz

earth note 824

the pueblo rise

in the body of the ponderosa

straight without faltering

the runners will make a trail

before the next sunrise

these are new times

taken from the old

the sky has opened

but it may not last

you've been given a turn at the water

speak of it as a prayer

and then pass it on

--- e b bortz 

earth note 823

slapping a notepad

into the palm of my hand

brings the dog running

his eyes saying what's up

got something to say

no just thinking what

the two austrian pines next door

growing up together

had in mind forming

a heart at their upper reaches

wondering what congress

has in mind scuttling the real news

forest fires not giving up

where there's smoke

there's chemical poison & cover-up

and the flooding is never over

except of course

where the water is needed

still remember what lake powell

looked like before the drought

the virus finds new accomplices

medical staff soldiers on to capacity

teachers teach on

the apocalypse list

grows in the dark

the dog kicks up dust

barking at the gecko

rain coming over the mountain

looks like a race to the rio

thousands of hands reach for the overpass

--- e b bortz

earth note 822

for every stone pony

there's a petrified stump

up against a cyclone fence

stamped out before

the humming birds

start hovering

vultures bringing home the leftovers

everywhere there's chaos

serving up the politicos

meat & potatoes

we've all seen this show before

i'll raise my pen

for the vanquished

in hopes that the forests

in tomorrow's millennia

will have a place

to leave their souls

--- e b bortz

earth note 821

i will bring my atonement

to the mountains

where it will never

be believed

the rock will never budge

the sun will beat

every new shadow

until i acknowledge it

there will be no witnesses

the wind will take my breath away

and i will wait for the winter rains

--- e b bortz

earth note 820

the rio grande bicycle trail

has a vanishing point

the river might be murky here

but eventually the sun will show you grace

never quite sure when everything will change

and the thistle will make you bleed

the city encroaches

the rims are cloudy & coughing

freeways snarl through

concrete makes a hard heart

rest assured the wild

will have its own designs

--- e b bortz

earth note 819

the hollow spoke

in a broken voice

where maples creak

& the ridge has shifted

summer ends

check your shoes

all you have left is one foot

in front of the other

     breathe

like the north wind

brings you home

--- e b bortz

smoke jumpers

1.

fighting off another wind shift

another fire line

     in blood

coughing thru

the mountains west

gray haze running

toward the abyss

geese heading south

     early

their wings

in rhythm

2.

at the fire watch look-out

there was a fading notepad

of greasy thumb prints

words ringing out

through an hourglass

like every lonely day

of heat and the sacred

water hauling from the creek

there were humming birds

in early morning light

and coyote howls

by night

3.

indelible branding left

on the ponderosa

the pinyon

and especially the aspen

a forest stripped back bare

a hundred years growth

     gone to carbon

just for the touch of a million dollar house

--- e b bortz

loaves & fishes

a coffeehouse in the 60s

hidden away on bellefonte street pittsburgh

the room overflowing without notice

guitars picking through every polemic

a (pawn) chess piece sliding across the floor

a meeting of antiwar artwork without deferments

scattering in the night like four corners (plus one)

     of a pentagon

soldiers hanging on by sheer conscience

all leaves canceled at midnight

this outreach project years in the making

had john the baptist written all over it

--- e b bortz

so many experts so little expertise

another very long night

without sleep

shoved under the carpet

hidden in the window

of real pain

from the brown middle east

to brown southeast asia

a death spiral is not

a stairway to heaven

the summer of love

a long forgotten trail

never taken

of course the hippies were right

but the experts bullied their way in

with defecate diplomas

and jumped to the head of the line

with the largest megaphone

selling their expertise like carny hucksters

the best and the brightest

is still a madison avenue

ny times book list ploy

dripping in sour milk & honey     cool-aid     a commodity trader's illusion

no antidote

for wildfires     hurricanes     pandemics

--- e b bortz