Friday, November 26, 2021

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 

Friday, November 19, 2021

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 

Wednesday, November 17, 2021

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

Saturday, November 06, 2021

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

Monday, November 01, 2021

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