between chaiya and thachana
surat thani province thailand
can be soothing
or deceiving
when the bicycle road turns hot
& rough
immediately aware
your water
near empty
a lone water buffalo
works distant fields
slow motion haze
draws heavy on the lungs
an oasis of coconut shade
distant
the only reprieve
from the tar & scorch
i collapsed beneath
the tallest ones
on my back the coconut leaves
broke the sky blue into small parts
sun spilled over the leaf edges
but filtered out the harshness
no moisture left
body pores dry
eyes giving up
& drooping
i imagined a waterfall
wake up was a group of teenagers
crossing the road to see the stranger
& without words
a wiry kid shimmies up the tallest tree
slashes down a couple of large coconuts
a hole is cut
we all drink
talk
drink again
coconut milk joins a water bottle
a symbolic send-off
a dozen eyes form a circle
.....sun and spirits speak
.....their own tongue
--- e b bortz
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Notes from the Greenhouse
Notes from the Greenhouse, Tel Aviv
October, 1991
Cheng was a student from Beijing who had gotten out just in time and had no intentions of going back in the near future. The blood hadn't washed off of Tiananmen Square and never will, but if things ever ease up and people aren't just picked up and beaten, humiliated, and incarcerated for speaking their minds, then maybe she'll return and pick up the pieces of her life, see her family again, and yes, dream and strive for a democratic China.
Dimitri had been living in Israel for two years now, spoke fluently in Hebrew, English, and his natural Russian tongue, but as he approached his thirtieth birthday he was still unable to find a niche in the fast and often rude lifestyle of Tel Aviv. He worked hard at several jobs that had no future, made friends easily, but had his eyes and heart set on moving to the States --- the place of "opportunity." Everyone wished him luck.
The several pairs and small groups of South Africans that passed through the Greenhouse doors brought with them all the variations and colors of that society. Black, Dutch, English --- Christian and Jewish --- their prejudices, anxieties, and dreams found their way into our conversations around a large rectangular wooden table in the common living room. I guess we all learned something from each other.
Cynthia was a beautiful young woman from Singapore who had traveled Europe and Asia as an exchange student, was fluent in Mandarin, English, and French, and who had a character that radiated with the adventure of the remote and compassion for the dispossessed. She trekked through the length and breadth of Israel, saw the best and worst of Jewish and Muslim life, felt a particular closeness to the Christian history, and left with a smile and positive feeling about her experiences. She'll be back.
Eamon wailed away the blues each night along Dizengoff Street near the fountain with his saxophone case open and inviting to the waves of upbeat passersby. He crashed each night at the Greenhouse feeling half-empty from the few shekels he gathered, but more than half-full from the musical expression. A couple of weeks passed and he was on his way back to upstate New York, but not before a short stopover in the streets of Paris.
There was a work ethic and routine of cleanliness at the Greenhouse that made it rather unique among hostels in this part of the world. Be that as it may, it was still a transient place, a quiet place in the midst of a noisy city, a shelter from the storm, a place where you began to think of your next steps and previous steps along your unique pathway, where you thought of the people you had met and the ones you had left, but where life had a way of melting together a most unusual group of people in need of each other, if only for a short time, in a world often too busy or indifferent to feel the human touch.
There was no substitute for being there.
--- e b bortz
Notes from the Greenhouse, Part 2
about eighteen years ago
for several days in a row
the hostel staff
as kind as they were
had to tell me
to get the hell off my bed
leave
for the well advertised five hours
of daily hostel cleanup
it was totally unlike my normal routine
to lay around
moping
i usually got out early
sometimes looking for a temporary job
(impossible)
but often just leaving morning rush-hour
bicycling to the countryside
or to the library
to scribble a few words
thinking
agonizing over what israel
was not
like what was not
fair
like the expropriation
of the cramped beaten streets
soon to be gentrified jaffa
like the dominance of military uniforms
militarism injected into the body of an entire new generation
(except the yeshiva boys of course)
like the newly arrived young ethiopian brothers and sisters
that some ashkenazi israelis swear/assault as they utter
shvartza
(at the ethiopians in their fatigues)
and where palestinians ripped from their homes
and their land
bulldozed into refugee camps and ghettos
in an attempt to smash
their life color
their spirit
like an enemy
like a self-fulfilling prophesy
this was an israel
first-hand
without the makeup
disco jewelry
beach life magazines
but my moping wasn't just social reckoning
sometimes it takes that personal
hurt
to unravel the entire illusion
like a french love flower
that never has a chance
to take root
you end up with
dead hollow leaves
maybe in that emptiness
a greater consciousness grows
and so it did
replacing beach facades
lost luster
haifa to ashqelon
the frame still includes
all those fucking plastic bottles
washed ashore at caesarea
and all the orange groves
of a kibbutzim
dream
i rescheduled a return ticket
to the states
uneasy yet cognizant
of the uncertainty
yet to come
--- e b bortz
Notes from the Greenhouse, Epilogue
It's taken a fast eighteen years to write "Part 2"...even if the whole thing seems like one continuous stream...rapids and all.
The social network of the Greenhouse should be a book in itself...some potent lessons particularly in light of the Israel I see today...it has changed and so have my eyes...the war makers and racists dominate the government in Tel Aviv/Jerusalem bringing me to the embarrassing conclusion that they relish in their fears and sadism...maybe all the way to the abyss...suicide.
When I was very young my image of Israel was formed by the stories of courage of the Jewish fighters in the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising during Nazi occupation. Every molotov cocktail thrown at the shiny German uniforms had with it the cries of millions of the dead...millions of oppressed. I gave little thought to the aspirations of Palestinians who were destroyed in the land between the river and the sea when the "two states" were mandated...the hundreds of thousands of indigenous people brutally driven from their homes, schools, olive groves...and the many who died with their dreams in refugee camps.
Someday, there will be peace in the contiguous land from the river to the sea, that will live cooperatively, with "one person / one vote"...and for those that refuse to accept this simple premise...maybe they'll leave and hopefully take their fears with them.
--- e b bortz
(Notes from the Greenhouse, Tel Aviv previously published in
Golden Triangle, 1992 and Voices of a Wanderer, 1993)
October, 1991
Cheng was a student from Beijing who had gotten out just in time and had no intentions of going back in the near future. The blood hadn't washed off of Tiananmen Square and never will, but if things ever ease up and people aren't just picked up and beaten, humiliated, and incarcerated for speaking their minds, then maybe she'll return and pick up the pieces of her life, see her family again, and yes, dream and strive for a democratic China.
Dimitri had been living in Israel for two years now, spoke fluently in Hebrew, English, and his natural Russian tongue, but as he approached his thirtieth birthday he was still unable to find a niche in the fast and often rude lifestyle of Tel Aviv. He worked hard at several jobs that had no future, made friends easily, but had his eyes and heart set on moving to the States --- the place of "opportunity." Everyone wished him luck.
The several pairs and small groups of South Africans that passed through the Greenhouse doors brought with them all the variations and colors of that society. Black, Dutch, English --- Christian and Jewish --- their prejudices, anxieties, and dreams found their way into our conversations around a large rectangular wooden table in the common living room. I guess we all learned something from each other.
Cynthia was a beautiful young woman from Singapore who had traveled Europe and Asia as an exchange student, was fluent in Mandarin, English, and French, and who had a character that radiated with the adventure of the remote and compassion for the dispossessed. She trekked through the length and breadth of Israel, saw the best and worst of Jewish and Muslim life, felt a particular closeness to the Christian history, and left with a smile and positive feeling about her experiences. She'll be back.
Eamon wailed away the blues each night along Dizengoff Street near the fountain with his saxophone case open and inviting to the waves of upbeat passersby. He crashed each night at the Greenhouse feeling half-empty from the few shekels he gathered, but more than half-full from the musical expression. A couple of weeks passed and he was on his way back to upstate New York, but not before a short stopover in the streets of Paris.
There was a work ethic and routine of cleanliness at the Greenhouse that made it rather unique among hostels in this part of the world. Be that as it may, it was still a transient place, a quiet place in the midst of a noisy city, a shelter from the storm, a place where you began to think of your next steps and previous steps along your unique pathway, where you thought of the people you had met and the ones you had left, but where life had a way of melting together a most unusual group of people in need of each other, if only for a short time, in a world often too busy or indifferent to feel the human touch.
There was no substitute for being there.
--- e b bortz
Notes from the Greenhouse, Part 2
about eighteen years ago
for several days in a row
the hostel staff
as kind as they were
had to tell me
to get the hell off my bed
leave
for the well advertised five hours
of daily hostel cleanup
it was totally unlike my normal routine
to lay around
moping
i usually got out early
sometimes looking for a temporary job
(impossible)
but often just leaving morning rush-hour
bicycling to the countryside
or to the library
to scribble a few words
thinking
agonizing over what israel
was not
like what was not
fair
like the expropriation
of the cramped beaten streets
soon to be gentrified jaffa
like the dominance of military uniforms
militarism injected into the body of an entire new generation
(except the yeshiva boys of course)
like the newly arrived young ethiopian brothers and sisters
that some ashkenazi israelis swear/assault as they utter
shvartza
(at the ethiopians in their fatigues)
and where palestinians ripped from their homes
and their land
bulldozed into refugee camps and ghettos
in an attempt to smash
their life color
their spirit
like an enemy
like a self-fulfilling prophesy
this was an israel
first-hand
without the makeup
disco jewelry
beach life magazines
but my moping wasn't just social reckoning
sometimes it takes that personal
hurt
to unravel the entire illusion
like a french love flower
that never has a chance
to take root
you end up with
dead hollow leaves
maybe in that emptiness
a greater consciousness grows
and so it did
replacing beach facades
lost luster
haifa to ashqelon
the frame still includes
all those fucking plastic bottles
washed ashore at caesarea
and all the orange groves
of a kibbutzim
dream
i rescheduled a return ticket
to the states
uneasy yet cognizant
of the uncertainty
yet to come
--- e b bortz
Notes from the Greenhouse, Epilogue
It's taken a fast eighteen years to write "Part 2"...even if the whole thing seems like one continuous stream...rapids and all.
The social network of the Greenhouse should be a book in itself...some potent lessons particularly in light of the Israel I see today...it has changed and so have my eyes...the war makers and racists dominate the government in Tel Aviv/Jerusalem bringing me to the embarrassing conclusion that they relish in their fears and sadism...maybe all the way to the abyss...suicide.
When I was very young my image of Israel was formed by the stories of courage of the Jewish fighters in the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising during Nazi occupation. Every molotov cocktail thrown at the shiny German uniforms had with it the cries of millions of the dead...millions of oppressed. I gave little thought to the aspirations of Palestinians who were destroyed in the land between the river and the sea when the "two states" were mandated...the hundreds of thousands of indigenous people brutally driven from their homes, schools, olive groves...and the many who died with their dreams in refugee camps.
Someday, there will be peace in the contiguous land from the river to the sea, that will live cooperatively, with "one person / one vote"...and for those that refuse to accept this simple premise...maybe they'll leave and hopefully take their fears with them.
--- e b bortz
(Notes from the Greenhouse, Tel Aviv previously published in
Golden Triangle, 1992 and Voices of a Wanderer, 1993)
Sunday, March 22, 2009
six years
and still counting
corpses lost in statistical aberations
trivial bullshit dished out
and consumed
still
while the larger question
of war criminal behavior
(and behaviorists)
are uncontested
sure
if you bury the evidence deep enough
in the washington consensus
the path may go cold
but for the memories
of the millions of witnesses
too many to ignore
too many screams
that carry with it
the burden of truth telling
in a cradle of the next generation
there may be justice
--- e b bortz
Monday, March 16, 2009
earth note 123
circa 1980
hart prairie snowfall
came early november
the year we moved to flagstaff
the peaks rose with aspen
for three-fourths their vertical
we broke our ski trail
first on the prairie
then to the gradual contours
mysteries
deep into the mountain spirits
my four sons were old enough to walk miles
so when we gathered up cross-country skis
from our minnesota days
and headed to the prairie
there was the anticipation of new adventure
friday after thanksgiving day
the sun had instances of being dominant
yet the cold was sufficient to keep the snow
powder
and every swoosh had the lightest of glide
the ski almost lifted itself
for the next step
loggers had cleared whole tracts
from the lower elevations
but by the time we climbed
into the ponderosa and aspen groves
quiet took over
our own breathing
a rhythm
our ignorance deprived us
of the hopi and navajo stories
from the mountain
yet anyone who ventured there
intuitively felt the presence
of something much greater
than themselves
as we did
for ancestors all come from the same
mothers and fathers of africa
about the time we reached the tree line
voices and a few screeches
drifted over the mountain
seems we had invaded the downhill ski resort
in our not-chic guerrilla clothing
no-pay ski pass
crashing the toll gate
my sons all smiled mischief
i did nothing to discourage them
we would return many times
to the peaks over hart prairie
each season with its
unique angle
on the light
shepherded by footsteps
of the seekers
unbound in the trails
not yet followed
--- e b bortz
hart prairie snowfall
came early november
the year we moved to flagstaff
the peaks rose with aspen
for three-fourths their vertical
we broke our ski trail
first on the prairie
then to the gradual contours
mysteries
deep into the mountain spirits
my four sons were old enough to walk miles
so when we gathered up cross-country skis
from our minnesota days
and headed to the prairie
there was the anticipation of new adventure
friday after thanksgiving day
the sun had instances of being dominant
yet the cold was sufficient to keep the snow
powder
and every swoosh had the lightest of glide
the ski almost lifted itself
for the next step
loggers had cleared whole tracts
from the lower elevations
but by the time we climbed
into the ponderosa and aspen groves
quiet took over
our own breathing
a rhythm
our ignorance deprived us
of the hopi and navajo stories
from the mountain
yet anyone who ventured there
intuitively felt the presence
of something much greater
than themselves
as we did
for ancestors all come from the same
mothers and fathers of africa
about the time we reached the tree line
voices and a few screeches
drifted over the mountain
seems we had invaded the downhill ski resort
in our not-chic guerrilla clothing
no-pay ski pass
crashing the toll gate
my sons all smiled mischief
i did nothing to discourage them
we would return many times
to the peaks over hart prairie
each season with its
unique angle
on the light
shepherded by footsteps
of the seekers
unbound in the trails
not yet followed
--- e b bortz
Saturday, March 14, 2009
earth note 122
marshall trail pittsburgh
winds left their mark this year
snapping off the tops
of the aged ones --- oak and maple
tumbled hillside limbs
barren open arms
dark rich fertile leaf bed
spreads the wealth
egalitarian
wonder
--- e b bortz
winds left their mark this year
snapping off the tops
of the aged ones --- oak and maple
tumbled hillside limbs
barren open arms
dark rich fertile leaf bed
spreads the wealth
egalitarian
wonder
--- e b bortz
Monday, March 09, 2009
earth note 121
i squeezed into a tee-shirt fifteen years old
from the bottom of my clutter
that shows a bold pack of grey wolves
(aka timber wolves)
howling at the sky
they didn't ask the executive branch
of the federal government
for permission
and i'm sure there are a shit-load
of right-wingers
cool-aid drinkers
and even some left-wingers
who are cheering
(or complacent)
about the obama administration
de-listing
of northern rocky grey wolves
from the endangered species list
maybe it'll bring back those raucous years
when cross-country skiers
and snowmobilers
had pitched battles over the trails
in the boundary waters of minnesota
while the grey wolves just kinda laid back
watched it all
cheered on their home team
i still think about
one very early a.m.
when grey wolf
the size of a great dane
crossed the road before me
and waved his thin majestic head upward
as to say
his habitat was not for sale
freedom.....courage
are not commodities
--- e b bortz
from the bottom of my clutter
that shows a bold pack of grey wolves
(aka timber wolves)
howling at the sky
they didn't ask the executive branch
of the federal government
for permission
and i'm sure there are a shit-load
of right-wingers
cool-aid drinkers
and even some left-wingers
who are cheering
(or complacent)
about the obama administration
de-listing
of northern rocky grey wolves
from the endangered species list
maybe it'll bring back those raucous years
when cross-country skiers
and snowmobilers
had pitched battles over the trails
in the boundary waters of minnesota
while the grey wolves just kinda laid back
watched it all
cheered on their home team
i still think about
one very early a.m.
when grey wolf
the size of a great dane
crossed the road before me
and waved his thin majestic head upward
as to say
his habitat was not for sale
freedom.....courage
are not commodities
--- e b bortz
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
earth note 120
a bicycle wheel that's trued
doesn't guarantee
a soft or especially
free ride
but do it anyway
for all the coal parts
that break sunlight
pay-me-later fly-ash dust
a fool lung repeats
clean coal
coughs
to fuel crash of stock
illusion
the old methods aren't working
but if you can dig a garden
i'll bring you water
--- e b bortz
doesn't guarantee
a soft or especially
free ride
but do it anyway
for all the coal parts
that break sunlight
pay-me-later fly-ash dust
a fool lung repeats
clean coal
coughs
to fuel crash of stock
illusion
the old methods aren't working
but if you can dig a garden
i'll bring you water
--- e b bortz
Thursday, February 19, 2009
earth note 119
key west
green gulf and sundown
has an expression
most would say
is the beauty of the moment
when seduced by observers and advocates
uniqueness can become routine
uneventful
the crash of the waves is all about inertia
the sun's pitch is one of determination
the boats strutting about
nothing short of showing off
a certain arrogance
being tuned in comes with
silence
a crash of orange
a pelican watching the water
then diving
--- e b bortz
green gulf and sundown
has an expression
most would say
is the beauty of the moment
when seduced by observers and advocates
uniqueness can become routine
uneventful
the crash of the waves is all about inertia
the sun's pitch is one of determination
the boats strutting about
nothing short of showing off
a certain arrogance
being tuned in comes with
silence
a crash of orange
a pelican watching the water
then diving
--- e b bortz
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
earth note 118
key west
the blue heaven has become
so damn chic
unlike the endless wild old days
before hotel plunder
lined A1A
now shoveling the homeless & poets
against the tides
neoliberal forget-me-not
singing green parrots
i'm still hopin' fat tueday's cajun band
will get us off our asses
break the sound barrier
the military choppers
seem to dominate now
let one human family
(the mantra of key west)
include every outcast desperado
from maine and pennsylvania
who inched their way south
like caterpillars
hoping only to bloom
like monarchs
far from the rust and wasted horizons
abandoned workshops
empty rails
yesterday's broken promises
have lived out their usefulness
tomorrow is for the dreamers
--- e b bortz
the blue heaven has become
so damn chic
unlike the endless wild old days
before hotel plunder
lined A1A
now shoveling the homeless & poets
against the tides
neoliberal forget-me-not
singing green parrots
i'm still hopin' fat tueday's cajun band
will get us off our asses
break the sound barrier
the military choppers
seem to dominate now
let one human family
(the mantra of key west)
include every outcast desperado
from maine and pennsylvania
who inched their way south
like caterpillars
hoping only to bloom
like monarchs
far from the rust and wasted horizons
abandoned workshops
empty rails
yesterday's broken promises
have lived out their usefulness
tomorrow is for the dreamers
--- e b bortz
Friday, January 16, 2009
earth note 117
frozen river memory
tho the cracking is real
and not recent
joining the rest of my narrow
historical bag of references
i've swallowed hard
shouldering skis
i hide above rolling green hills
abundance
cloaking misnamed urban definitions
from riviere des prairies/francophone/anglophone
.....hegemony
(aboriginals shoved again to the wind)
watching every north-bound empty rail
of silent whistles
prods another voice
.....upon and within
your last touch
cold
now
--- e b bortz
tho the cracking is real
and not recent
joining the rest of my narrow
historical bag of references
i've swallowed hard
shouldering skis
i hide above rolling green hills
abundance
cloaking misnamed urban definitions
from riviere des prairies/francophone/anglophone
.....hegemony
(aboriginals shoved again to the wind)
watching every north-bound empty rail
of silent whistles
prods another voice
.....upon and within
your last touch
cold
now
--- e b bortz
Sunday, January 04, 2009
sand sculptures from gaza
touched by a hundred brown hands
beach figures gently formed
loving forms
of adolescence
like in santa monica or the jersey shore
the grit of a shared future
possible?
who knows
deferred
neath the crush of tanks and boots and shrapnel
kicked in and dispersed
piling up with the shattered doors of baghdad
& all the complicit baseless doublespeak
replacing the justice
of reasoning
--- e b bortz
beach figures gently formed
loving forms
of adolescence
like in santa monica or the jersey shore
the grit of a shared future
possible?
who knows
deferred
neath the crush of tanks and boots and shrapnel
kicked in and dispersed
piling up with the shattered doors of baghdad
& all the complicit baseless doublespeak
replacing the justice
of reasoning
--- e b bortz
Friday, December 12, 2008
earth note 116
this might not fit here
after all
the ground we claim as habitat
has no owners
under whose ‘authority’
is it claimed?
(who won the last war?)
(which village was massacred?)
this so-called poem
has about as much ‘right’
to ownership
as your friendly or unfriendly
corporate personhood instrument
wall street or main street
notwithstanding
dogma won’t convince
my dog
or doggerel
that he isn’t a rightful owner
--- e b bortz
after all
the ground we claim as habitat
has no owners
under whose ‘authority’
is it claimed?
(who won the last war?)
(which village was massacred?)
this so-called poem
has about as much ‘right’
to ownership
as your friendly or unfriendly
corporate personhood instrument
wall street or main street
notwithstanding
dogma won’t convince
my dog
or doggerel
that he isn’t a rightful owner
--- e b bortz
Thursday, November 20, 2008
hope
we haven’t forgotten
what it takes to make
real change
come out of the mist
look for the sun
trailing off as it does
without asking permission
a lesson from the high desert:
a motionless prairie dog
bold
but just coy enough
to stay alive
standing erect & noticed
on the interstate
vanishing
like a shifty dust twister
hope is not a stupor
but its antithesis
leave the dirt on your hands
bring it with you
--- e b bortz
what it takes to make
real change
come out of the mist
look for the sun
trailing off as it does
without asking permission
a lesson from the high desert:
a motionless prairie dog
bold
but just coy enough
to stay alive
standing erect & noticed
on the interstate
vanishing
like a shifty dust twister
hope is not a stupor
but its antithesis
leave the dirt on your hands
bring it with you
--- e b bortz
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
post-election rising
we may live in the belly of one
but there really are no ‘beasts’
(the word applies only to humans)
each fear has been designed & built
on a previous one
sometimes a small candle
is enough to make
bottomless dark
light
call it non-negotiable
containers forever overflowing
can’t spill into mediocrity
broken streets
filled with feet
tears
hands of candleholders
will rise
--- e b bortz
but there really are no ‘beasts’
(the word applies only to humans)
each fear has been designed & built
on a previous one
sometimes a small candle
is enough to make
bottomless dark
light
call it non-negotiable
containers forever overflowing
can’t spill into mediocrity
broken streets
filled with feet
tears
hands of candleholders
will rise
--- e b bortz
Thursday, October 16, 2008
earth note 115
grand canyon winter 1979
fog held steady on the north rim
wondering if my footing
down the south rim
would be any better
than jimmy carter’s freefall
dragging descent to the edge
revenge induced vietnam war criminals
gave hustlers their sleight of hand
faking populist economic culture claptrap
effectively covering a bare-assed fascism
in ronald reagan g e scripture
halfway down the bright angel trail
the mules came thumping up
worked me over to the canyon wall
passing
like night shift miners
just shy of the light
and the growth that jumped from the rocks
had an evergreen
poking up like a scarecrow
making it’s own horizon
giving the eagles
a good enough reason
to move on
--- e b bortz
fog held steady on the north rim
wondering if my footing
down the south rim
would be any better
than jimmy carter’s freefall
dragging descent to the edge
revenge induced vietnam war criminals
gave hustlers their sleight of hand
faking populist economic culture claptrap
effectively covering a bare-assed fascism
in ronald reagan g e scripture
halfway down the bright angel trail
the mules came thumping up
worked me over to the canyon wall
passing
like night shift miners
just shy of the light
and the growth that jumped from the rocks
had an evergreen
poking up like a scarecrow
making it’s own horizon
giving the eagles
a good enough reason
to move on
--- e b bortz
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
pundits
& establishment pols
foisted on an angry population
eating it raw
throwing it up
packaging & sending rationalizations
to the unsuspecting
this is full-tilt boogie
breakdown
a weave of our blood dollars
into frazzled hair transplants
new hairdos & ass lifts
ego & machines stay oiled
.....the city burns
--- e b bortz
foisted on an angry population
eating it raw
throwing it up
packaging & sending rationalizations
to the unsuspecting
this is full-tilt boogie
breakdown
a weave of our blood dollars
into frazzled hair transplants
new hairdos & ass lifts
ego & machines stay oiled
.....the city burns
--- e b bortz
Monday, September 22, 2008
since this is pittsburgh
let’s just start with comic relief
& say
there’s a little w-a-r-sh
in the middle of every wash
& sunflowers never take on
a normal life span
& poetry in lieu of rent
won’t cut it
& all those billions dumped to the bankers
won’t stop those oil tankers from floating
toward the edge (nor bring those steel jobs back)
& yes
the abyss might be a state of mind
but real souls
have choices
only the forest knows
and the calling
comes when we least
expect it
& every lonesome ride
to the border
must be a beginning
--- e b bortz
photos by Sandra L Hazley
Sunday, September 14, 2008
embellishing a weird dream
my passport was stolen
from the backseat of my van
a hidden place violated
and in its place
an expired passport of a guy
born in 1922
(let him remain anonymous)
though his thick brown moustache
could give him away
and there’s more:
right rear wheel was gone
van creaked left on a scissors-jack
spare tire walked
or never was
scene two:
a dozen of us marching
up centre avenue on the sidewalk
signs say stop police violence
a motorcycle cop
buzzes over with a cold tense look
ultimately
peels away without word
it was the centre avenue before
urban removal
people actually sitting on their stoops
watching us......not quite believing
we were pale gray
tho our banners
many colors
destination a bushy hilltop
known as sugar hill
we scatter what time is left
for dreams imagined
& real
--- e b bortz
from the backseat of my van
a hidden place violated
and in its place
an expired passport of a guy
born in 1922
(let him remain anonymous)
though his thick brown moustache
could give him away
and there’s more:
right rear wheel was gone
van creaked left on a scissors-jack
spare tire walked
or never was
scene two:
a dozen of us marching
up centre avenue on the sidewalk
signs say stop police violence
a motorcycle cop
buzzes over with a cold tense look
ultimately
peels away without word
it was the centre avenue before
urban removal
people actually sitting on their stoops
watching us......not quite believing
we were pale gray
tho our banners
many colors
destination a bushy hilltop
known as sugar hill
we scatter what time is left
for dreams imagined
& real
--- e b bortz
Sunday, August 31, 2008
earth note 114
ohio river trail across from bruno island
goose shit
green spread
surveillance new sodium pink lights
like eyeballs
semi-renovated hundred-year prison
hand-built twenty-eight foot stone walls
in-tact
for new tasks
gray homeland security suv
circling.....more eyeballs
occasionally a shout from inside
interrupts goose & duck squawk
the only protests of record
steel bridge swaying aching coal cars
twenty-first century arthritis
looking for another fix
--- e b bortz
goose shit
green spread
surveillance new sodium pink lights
like eyeballs
semi-renovated hundred-year prison
hand-built twenty-eight foot stone walls
in-tact
for new tasks
gray homeland security suv
circling.....more eyeballs
occasionally a shout from inside
interrupts goose & duck squawk
the only protests of record
steel bridge swaying aching coal cars
twenty-first century arthritis
looking for another fix
--- e b bortz
Sunday, August 24, 2008
earth note 113
breakneck ridge near portersville pennsylvania
a grassy plateau
rolls right up
to a synthetic fabric tent
all but forgetting the forest canopy
& cool musty cave
just below the outcrop
.....long after primeval animal skins
.....formed a lean-to
the lightning drove deep
into moistened loam belly
everything that was moving
.....stopped
.....diving low
.....still
it’s always been this way
--- e b bortz
a grassy plateau
rolls right up
to a synthetic fabric tent
all but forgetting the forest canopy
& cool musty cave
just below the outcrop
.....long after primeval animal skins
.....formed a lean-to
the lightning drove deep
into moistened loam belly
everything that was moving
.....stopped
.....diving low
.....still
it’s always been this way
--- e b bortz
Sunday, August 10, 2008
red dust still stirred
in the winter of ‘76
though the north hibbing minnesota
rich iron ore pit was abandoned
just the cold remained
one eye closed
on north country blues
while the other one
joined the wanderers & work seekers
a beginning still hard to describe
as new
as new as taconite
landing scraggly beards
uprooted back-to-the-landers
in another go around
with the pitch black northern lights
deep tamarack
white pine
poplar sheltered hidden lake
frozen two thirds down
in that year
zimmerman’s bar mitzvah synagogue
still stood on the edge of hibbing
and the old caretaker told us
the story of carrying live chickens
on the streetcar to the rabbi on friday mornings
even in the depression 30s
all of this
from the edge
of the great north woods
three fourths the minnesota distance
to the canada border
nothing was out of place
as steam poured out
from a log shed sauna
the door was supposed
to slam open
with the snow squall
you were expected to take
the short dive into the snow bank
--- e b bortz
though the north hibbing minnesota
rich iron ore pit was abandoned
just the cold remained
one eye closed
on north country blues
while the other one
joined the wanderers & work seekers
a beginning still hard to describe
as new
as new as taconite
landing scraggly beards
uprooted back-to-the-landers
in another go around
with the pitch black northern lights
deep tamarack
white pine
poplar sheltered hidden lake
frozen two thirds down
in that year
zimmerman’s bar mitzvah synagogue
still stood on the edge of hibbing
and the old caretaker told us
the story of carrying live chickens
on the streetcar to the rabbi on friday mornings
even in the depression 30s
all of this
from the edge
of the great north woods
three fourths the minnesota distance
to the canada border
nothing was out of place
as steam poured out
from a log shed sauna
the door was supposed
to slam open
with the snow squall
you were expected to take
the short dive into the snow bank
--- e b bortz
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
empty hands
are the source
of every emotional ritual
nothing to give up
no finger pointing
acceptance
of every element surrounding them
as if the sun and snow
converge
without compromise
cracked joints and missing fingernails
ignored in the greater scheme
no fist.....handshake
or caress
in the act
of opening
--- e b bortz
of every emotional ritual
nothing to give up
no finger pointing
acceptance
of every element surrounding them
as if the sun and snow
converge
without compromise
cracked joints and missing fingernails
ignored in the greater scheme
no fist.....handshake
or caress
in the act
of opening
--- e b bortz
Sunday, July 13, 2008
morning petitioning notes
three iron rangers from minnesota
.....i noticed their t-shirts
from towns just down the road
from our former hardscrabble homestead
nashwauk
a bend in the road not far from the continental divide
now here in pittsburgh
for a steelworkers meeting
bitter about nafta & cafta
worried about their children/grandchildren
country’s crash.....has arrived
yesterday’s papers gave out
a glimpse of fundamental corruption
misappropriation of public funds
to squash ballot access in pennsylvania
for greens & independents
yet the iron rangers we’re split
on how to reject outright
things as they are
yet still safely bury
one’s most inner beliefs
conforming matching pragmatic resignation
sacrifice to the void
of self-censorship
--- e b bortz
.....i noticed their t-shirts
from towns just down the road
from our former hardscrabble homestead
nashwauk
a bend in the road not far from the continental divide
now here in pittsburgh
for a steelworkers meeting
bitter about nafta & cafta
worried about their children/grandchildren
country’s crash.....has arrived
yesterday’s papers gave out
a glimpse of fundamental corruption
misappropriation of public funds
to squash ballot access in pennsylvania
for greens & independents
yet the iron rangers we’re split
on how to reject outright
things as they are
yet still safely bury
one’s most inner beliefs
conforming matching pragmatic resignation
sacrifice to the void
of self-censorship
--- e b bortz
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
ego is considered rational
narrow/personal
(don’t believe it goes beyond that)
self-interest
might be the dirtiest
word
of any language
it’s got us where we’re at
whoopee
id is gone
long live the id
--- e b bortz
(published in The City Poetry, Fall 2008)
(don’t believe it goes beyond that)
self-interest
might be the dirtiest
word
of any language
it’s got us where we’re at
whoopee
id is gone
long live the id
--- e b bortz
(published in The City Poetry, Fall 2008)
Thursday, June 26, 2008
complaint dept note 1
heard a few say
their best poems
were processed
by cheap wine
then pissed or puked
into the toilet
forever lost
some
bitch about
all the reviews they never receive
as if poetry is a well-defined
career path
academia mapped
& packaged
then there’s the fucking writer blocks
meticulous constructs
red badge of....
don’t say courage
obviously
more blocks
more walls
still needed
maimstreetmedia
funding grants
corporate jingles
never seduced
lorca
.....died for his poems
yet we complain
about oppression
seemingly
locked in position
on our knees
--- e b bortz
their best poems
were processed
by cheap wine
then pissed or puked
into the toilet
forever lost
some
bitch about
all the reviews they never receive
as if poetry is a well-defined
career path
academia mapped
& packaged
then there’s the fucking writer blocks
meticulous constructs
red badge of....
don’t say courage
obviously
more blocks
more walls
still needed
maimstreetmedia
funding grants
corporate jingles
never seduced
lorca
.....died for his poems
yet we complain
about oppression
seemingly
locked in position
on our knees
--- e b bortz
Monday, June 23, 2008
quiet time surat thani thailand
just after morning tea
just before my 6am
walk thru the back streets
on out to the avenue
traffic buzz
i wait for my hour-long
ride to the power plant
srimorn pulls in a firm gentle embrace
i start for the door
wanting immediately to turn back
melt into the teeming brown
chongkasem neighborhood
of her brown hips
or our walk thru downtown markets
& motor scooters
this morning our lips taste
the last cool air
before the heat wave
--- e b bortz
just before my 6am
walk thru the back streets
on out to the avenue
traffic buzz
i wait for my hour-long
ride to the power plant
srimorn pulls in a firm gentle embrace
i start for the door
wanting immediately to turn back
melt into the teeming brown
chongkasem neighborhood
of her brown hips
or our walk thru downtown markets
& motor scooters
this morning our lips taste
the last cool air
before the heat wave
--- e b bortz
Friday, June 13, 2008
previously flat-roofed porch
roof
is growing cisterns
on the edges
some looking
like long troughs
an inch of water
rests short
of the downspouts
telling us
we should
be collecting and
redistributing
to each according to needs
hoping for three foot sunflowers
before the frost
white pines pushing up
winter wind barriers
still
hard rain & good intentions
won’t get it done
--- e b bortz
is growing cisterns
on the edges
some looking
like long troughs
an inch of water
rests short
of the downspouts
telling us
we should
be collecting and
redistributing
to each according to needs
hoping for three foot sunflowers
before the frost
white pines pushing up
winter wind barriers
still
hard rain & good intentions
won’t get it done
--- e b bortz
Thursday, June 12, 2008
asking a big favor
let me know
the minute
you think
i’ve lost
that spark
you’ll know it when you see it
each syllable will struggle
with every other one
broken into too many vowels
filling in where thought
anticipating eyes
emotion once thrived
when it happens
i’ll throw myself
at the altar
embracing thickest maples
walk greenest ridges
straddling alleghenies
soft-needled strapping pines
rounding apache white mountains
frozen lakes deep laurentides
or maybe the hot & humid rubber bounty
trees of khao sok
let me know the minute of transition
i’ll need to find my way there
and back
--- e b bortz
the minute
you think
i’ve lost
that spark
you’ll know it when you see it
each syllable will struggle
with every other one
broken into too many vowels
filling in where thought
anticipating eyes
emotion once thrived
when it happens
i’ll throw myself
at the altar
embracing thickest maples
walk greenest ridges
straddling alleghenies
soft-needled strapping pines
rounding apache white mountains
frozen lakes deep laurentides
or maybe the hot & humid rubber bounty
trees of khao sok
let me know the minute of transition
i’ll need to find my way there
and back
--- e b bortz
Thursday, June 05, 2008
you don't need validation
by a politician
even one you believe in
perceptions of ‘strength’
‘the leader’ has got it
back ass words
your power is in your sweating
belching being
not your allegiance
vanguards authorities conventioneers
can be cut from the same cloth
and cheaply dyed to suit
don’t ask me
ask yourself
--- e b bortz
even one you believe in
perceptions of ‘strength’
‘the leader’ has got it
back ass words
your power is in your sweating
belching being
not your allegiance
vanguards authorities conventioneers
can be cut from the same cloth
and cheaply dyed to suit
don’t ask me
ask yourself
--- e b bortz
Monday, May 05, 2008
earth note 112
marshall trail, pittsburgh
via the road from kent ohio
jawbone
a resurrecting of every voice
in a year
when wilderness brings
each soul
a stage
in spite of oneself
i defer to the spirits of may 4, 1970
from every field & forest
seeds
and the trail canopy
grows rich in spite of
all the awkward intrusions
a broken-hearted doe
stands quiet
& refuses to run
--- e b bortz
via the road from kent ohio
jawbone
a resurrecting of every voice
in a year
when wilderness brings
each soul
a stage
in spite of oneself
i defer to the spirits of may 4, 1970
from every field & forest
seeds
and the trail canopy
grows rich in spite of
all the awkward intrusions
a broken-hearted doe
stands quiet
& refuses to run
--- e b bortz
Monday, April 14, 2008
forsythia breaking away
for all us local quarry cutters
right at the exit ramp
dropping yellow bell-bottoms
every pothole can testify
if you’re close enough to listen
there’s a halo
that’s been snatched
from those would-be
patricians
us bitter ones
yes!
can see the race for what it is
but like acid to the alkaline
our hands will grow a garden
--- e b bortz
right at the exit ramp
dropping yellow bell-bottoms
every pothole can testify
if you’re close enough to listen
there’s a halo
that’s been snatched
from those would-be
patricians
us bitter ones
yes!
can see the race for what it is
but like acid to the alkaline
our hands will grow a garden
--- e b bortz
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
yonge street refugee toronto
isn’t a put-down
thousands grasp
my own small view
is that it’s a damn good thing
to have a place to run away
to
when iron heel limousines
block the peace bridge on-ramps
i’ll take my kayak north
below the radar
edicts
& new world order
shit-faced enforcers
who will be at a loss
to explain
any laws or rights
that supercede
those grown by generations
of dead patriots
--- e b bortz
thousands grasp
my own small view
is that it’s a damn good thing
to have a place to run away
to
when iron heel limousines
block the peace bridge on-ramps
i’ll take my kayak north
below the radar
edicts
& new world order
shit-faced enforcers
who will be at a loss
to explain
any laws or rights
that supercede
those grown by generations
of dead patriots
--- e b bortz
Friday, April 04, 2008
head frazzled
loose ends
filling every angle
a line of sight
not to be confused
in revolutionary terms
with a kind of infantilism
can’t stop the sloganeering
popping its blindsided
emotionally sided
overdrawn tissue
cerebellum’s the missing piece
hardcore bank raiders
selling ‘em short
let’s take our margins against the wall
scratch the vault
alley cats
let us in
we’ll share the fire escape
& last refuge
paint the landscape void
a rust of isolation
a river out of here
limping
--- e b bortz
filling every angle
a line of sight
not to be confused
in revolutionary terms
with a kind of infantilism
can’t stop the sloganeering
popping its blindsided
emotionally sided
overdrawn tissue
cerebellum’s the missing piece
hardcore bank raiders
selling ‘em short
let’s take our margins against the wall
scratch the vault
alley cats
let us in
we’ll share the fire escape
& last refuge
paint the landscape void
a rust of isolation
a river out of here
limping
--- e b bortz
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
today i stand shiva
at the military recruiting center
for the million iraqis
four thousand americans
limbs & torsos stretched
needlessly upon the death spiral
finishing a fifth year
an appropriate cold rain
& dark silence fills in
where too few bodies
go on breathing
--- e b bortz
(published in khubz, Spring 2008)
for the million iraqis
four thousand americans
limbs & torsos stretched
needlessly upon the death spiral
finishing a fifth year
an appropriate cold rain
& dark silence fills in
where too few bodies
go on breathing
--- e b bortz
(published in khubz, Spring 2008)
Friday, March 14, 2008
is there a way out of this arrogance?
sand creek and wounded knee
my lai
new orleans
fallujah
when will the images
inside shifty bloody pools
become self-evident
crimes against humanity
we’ve become
the culture of silence
‘cept for the flutter
of our own wings
--- e b bortz
my lai
new orleans
fallujah
when will the images
inside shifty bloody pools
become self-evident
crimes against humanity
we’ve become
the culture of silence
‘cept for the flutter
of our own wings
--- e b bortz
Friday, February 29, 2008
central park 1967 summer concert
stevie wonder once again
found harmonica heart
was made to love her
as we loved
marian & me
kendra & franklin
trying to make sense
& dialectics of the whole
two hundred thousand individual bodies
with their own path to enlightenment
without the map makers
& confusion of history
so stevie sang past the pain
to a place
just beyond our reach
yet we reached
to find chills & warmth
all at the same time
the stuff beneath
that makes you understand
how the rain can soothe
even a parched body
--- e b bortz
Saturday, February 23, 2008
windless light snowfall
drops straight
clean
putting depth perspective
front & center
three small white pine
coated veil
covers a stoic ice frame
hundred crows pass through
--- e b bortz
clean
putting depth perspective
front & center
three small white pine
coated veil
covers a stoic ice frame
hundred crows pass through
--- e b bortz
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
earth note 111
1991...somewhere near poriyya, israel
it was hard bicycling the drum beats
to bob marley
legs ache last ascent
an overlook sea of galilee
vista & hostel without travelers
opened a door
and let me in
an hour later the surrounding hills
were the darkest passage
no moon
but the clarity of the milky way
so i walked down the road
to smell a landscape of scruffy pine
& stooped down from time to time
to feel the warm asphalt surface
& road break
with rocky brush
a perimeter into the unknown
much like a skin covering the organs
a darkness with purpose
feet wander where they want
and when the familiar road
left me
it became an opportunity
to stop and listen
without definition or direction
not a car nor dog
nor light nor gleam from galilee
lost & peace at the same time
was there a link
between these footsteps
and those before me
or was i an intruder
how does the earth
keep such a record
of those living
& deceased
a cool wind
from the north
gave me bearings
& i turned toward it
--- e b bortz
it was hard bicycling the drum beats
to bob marley
legs ache last ascent
an overlook sea of galilee
vista & hostel without travelers
opened a door
and let me in
an hour later the surrounding hills
were the darkest passage
no moon
but the clarity of the milky way
so i walked down the road
to smell a landscape of scruffy pine
& stooped down from time to time
to feel the warm asphalt surface
& road break
with rocky brush
a perimeter into the unknown
much like a skin covering the organs
a darkness with purpose
feet wander where they want
and when the familiar road
left me
it became an opportunity
to stop and listen
without definition or direction
not a car nor dog
nor light nor gleam from galilee
lost & peace at the same time
was there a link
between these footsteps
and those before me
or was i an intruder
how does the earth
keep such a record
of those living
& deceased
a cool wind
from the north
gave me bearings
& i turned toward it
--- e b bortz
Friday, February 08, 2008
Change Revisited
I was twelve years old in the summer of 1960, as my father
whispered to his closest friend at the kitchen table
in our hot cement-block farmhouse.
“Hymen, it looks like the people might vote for change
this year.”
“I’m not sure Lou. But I think Lenin said something
like ‘give me three workers and we’ll make a revolution’.”
“Yeah, but right now, the people are on the move...
they aren’t waiting for us,” Lou answered.
In our family, the 1950s was a time of economic desperation,
caused directly by the witch-hunts against us personally, and
against communists, labor and left-wing activists of all kinds,
all over the country.
But 1950s America was also the Korean War, economic stagnation
and poverty, segregation, lynching of African-Americans,
the suppression of women, the disenfranchisement of black people
and young people...a political system so corrupted by the thugs
of big money machines, racism, and fear, that anything close to
thoughtfulness was seen as almost radical.
This was the context in which JFK was elected 35th President
of the United States.
And of course that was only the opening of the decade and the
beginning of rising expectations...an uncharted course of turmoil
and transformation lie ahead...a cultural-generational-human rights
revolution bringing millions into the streets with marches, boycotts,
sit-ins, teach-ins, draft resistance in the face of a war that
extinguished the lives of millions...Vietnamese, Cambodians, Americans.
Are we a better, more conscious people because of all this?
You’ll have to answer that question yourself.
Maybe there are isolated windows in time when symbol is as important
as substance. When a society has proclaimed moral abandonment as
its mantra for decades, the not-so-simple act of awakening and
unleashing our imaginations can be a revolutionary message in itself.
--- e b bortz
(published in The New People, February 2008)
(published in khubz, Spring 2008)
whispered to his closest friend at the kitchen table
in our hot cement-block farmhouse.
“Hymen, it looks like the people might vote for change
this year.”
“I’m not sure Lou. But I think Lenin said something
like ‘give me three workers and we’ll make a revolution’.”
“Yeah, but right now, the people are on the move...
they aren’t waiting for us,” Lou answered.
In our family, the 1950s was a time of economic desperation,
caused directly by the witch-hunts against us personally, and
against communists, labor and left-wing activists of all kinds,
all over the country.
But 1950s America was also the Korean War, economic stagnation
and poverty, segregation, lynching of African-Americans,
the suppression of women, the disenfranchisement of black people
and young people...a political system so corrupted by the thugs
of big money machines, racism, and fear, that anything close to
thoughtfulness was seen as almost radical.
This was the context in which JFK was elected 35th President
of the United States.
And of course that was only the opening of the decade and the
beginning of rising expectations...an uncharted course of turmoil
and transformation lie ahead...a cultural-generational-human rights
revolution bringing millions into the streets with marches, boycotts,
sit-ins, teach-ins, draft resistance in the face of a war that
extinguished the lives of millions...Vietnamese, Cambodians, Americans.
Are we a better, more conscious people because of all this?
You’ll have to answer that question yourself.
Maybe there are isolated windows in time when symbol is as important
as substance. When a society has proclaimed moral abandonment as
its mantra for decades, the not-so-simple act of awakening and
unleashing our imaginations can be a revolutionary message in itself.
--- e b bortz
(published in The New People, February 2008)
(published in khubz, Spring 2008)
Friday, January 25, 2008
when all else fails
phuket 1989
close your eyes and go forward
crawling out of darkness
or into a beginning sunset
a prison falls
on orange & red
indian ocean andaman sea
(before the tsunami)
broke the ruler’s rules
started a wave
and without so much as embarrassment
placed the farang
upon his alter ego
sifting thru the trinkets
of silver & rubies (smuggled from burma)
the mist off the sea
heated
did not cool
the broken expats
with their cocks in their hand
lumbering thru curry back alleys
and every brown eye
in the marketplace
sized & dismissed
those intentional motives
looking only at the magic
from the water
--- e b bortz
close your eyes and go forward
crawling out of darkness
or into a beginning sunset
a prison falls
on orange & red
indian ocean andaman sea
(before the tsunami)
broke the ruler’s rules
started a wave
and without so much as embarrassment
placed the farang
upon his alter ego
sifting thru the trinkets
of silver & rubies (smuggled from burma)
the mist off the sea
heated
did not cool
the broken expats
with their cocks in their hand
lumbering thru curry back alleys
and every brown eye
in the marketplace
sized & dismissed
those intentional motives
looking only at the magic
from the water
--- e b bortz
Thursday, January 17, 2008
earth note 110
never looked at tea leaves
looking for answers
or the future
but those strawberry plants
we put
inside the acid rain belt
new york southern tier
seven miles
into northern appalachia
just above the susquehanna watershed
sprouted manna
or maybe just luck
but the hundred pine seedlings
in a june minnesota bog
dried out
waiting in the sauna
died of shock therapy
needed a more tender hand
or better timing
life can’t wait
for the learning curve
--- e b bortz
looking for answers
or the future
but those strawberry plants
we put
inside the acid rain belt
new york southern tier
seven miles
into northern appalachia
just above the susquehanna watershed
sprouted manna
or maybe just luck
but the hundred pine seedlings
in a june minnesota bog
dried out
waiting in the sauna
died of shock therapy
needed a more tender hand
or better timing
life can’t wait
for the learning curve
--- e b bortz
Monday, December 24, 2007
carson street shuffle, pittsburgh
circa 1969
a walnut street pre-gentrified high
when i was on second shift
most every night we dropped in
for a pitcher & chess
sometimes a joint in the little alley
off ivy street
and then
the animated talk & hand gestures
as my opponent castled
i looked away
wondering how i could just
walk away
blow this grimy town
grow my hair down to my ass
find a new way to survive
a war-weary country
& hardhats that embarrassed
even the company stooges
and if it was friday night
the sidewalks overflowed
into the streets
and every few feet
an impending draftee
would bump into you
stoned or drunk
and you’d see
the fuck-it attitude
or fear on his face
that a ride to canada
could fix
there were the broken old men
then
too
who said the kids had
no work ethic
and that the country was
going to hell
anyway
they were right about the hell
but missed
the civics lessons that were never taught
about who owns what and why
and who stole whose land
i wouldn’t say all this
if it didn’t happen
or thought it wouldn’t
happen again
--- e b bortz
(published in opednews.com, Jan 26, 2011)
Saturday, December 22, 2007
coal veins of jock yablonski
are still moving up the ohio
today
six heaping barges pushed upstream
maybe mined near bellaire ohio
making their way to the cheswick power station
on the allegheny
it was one of those sticky hot august days
in ‘69
as jock mounted a makeshift stage
in the middle of a beat-up football field
in bellaire
to speak to a couple hundred miners
and their families
about the most radical of all notions
in these parts
union democracy
the sweat poured down his face
across a hoarse open throat
and slumping tie
and every once in a while
a pointing finger came at us
making sure we heard the cry
of the thousands who came
and died before us
gk repeated it like a mantra
that this was only the beginning
the miners were just awakening
from the long terror of the thugs
and that jock
was the catalyst messenger
the brother from the early dark cio 30s
when solidarity wasn’t just a word
or a whisper
but a way of life
the union election was stolen
jock & his family were murdered new year’s eve in ‘69
a few thugs went to prison
miners for democracy wept
& carried on
after years
of continuous mining machines
mountain-top removal
black lung tens of thousands
a coal miners’ diaspora
spreading broken bodies
like polluted chewed-up forests & streams
climate havoc
foreign oil wars
betrayal
solidarity
lives and dies in the veins
of jock yablonski
--- e b bortz
today
six heaping barges pushed upstream
maybe mined near bellaire ohio
making their way to the cheswick power station
on the allegheny
it was one of those sticky hot august days
in ‘69
as jock mounted a makeshift stage
in the middle of a beat-up football field
in bellaire
to speak to a couple hundred miners
and their families
about the most radical of all notions
in these parts
union democracy
the sweat poured down his face
across a hoarse open throat
and slumping tie
and every once in a while
a pointing finger came at us
making sure we heard the cry
of the thousands who came
and died before us
gk repeated it like a mantra
that this was only the beginning
the miners were just awakening
from the long terror of the thugs
and that jock
was the catalyst messenger
the brother from the early dark cio 30s
when solidarity wasn’t just a word
or a whisper
but a way of life
the union election was stolen
jock & his family were murdered new year’s eve in ‘69
a few thugs went to prison
miners for democracy wept
& carried on
after years
of continuous mining machines
mountain-top removal
black lung tens of thousands
a coal miners’ diaspora
spreading broken bodies
like polluted chewed-up forests & streams
climate havoc
foreign oil wars
betrayal
solidarity
lives and dies in the veins
of jock yablonski
--- e b bortz
Friday, December 21, 2007
twenty minutes and eight arms full
of dress shirts
surreptitiously walk past starbucks
i’ve never been here before
but know there’s gotta be
a wash & starch drop-off nearby
for the corporate courtrooms
boardrooms
land speculator trysts
movin & shakin down
every loose financial instrument
not bolted down
the front page of the daily
has three burly policemen
clubbing down & holding
head & arms
a housing demolition protestor
new orleans drips blood on the street
starched shirts missing
--- e b bortz
surreptitiously walk past starbucks
i’ve never been here before
but know there’s gotta be
a wash & starch drop-off nearby
for the corporate courtrooms
boardrooms
land speculator trysts
movin & shakin down
every loose financial instrument
not bolted down
the front page of the daily
has three burly policemen
clubbing down & holding
head & arms
a housing demolition protestor
new orleans drips blood on the street
starched shirts missing
--- e b bortz
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
thinking below the noise level
is insular protection
our choices are limited
in survival mode
but not powerless
a kind of self-preservation
the soul
stays above the pit
as fire singes our faces
outmoded tools
to the open hearth
--- e b bortz
our choices are limited
in survival mode
but not powerless
a kind of self-preservation
the soul
stays above the pit
as fire singes our faces
outmoded tools
to the open hearth
--- e b bortz
Friday, November 16, 2007
earth note 109
forgiveness is a lame snowfall
before the big melt
& cross-country skis
go washing down
a mad river maelstrom
thread
snow packed trails again
touch deepest quiet
breathe weeping ridges
find the last surviving hellbender
and river otter
seek higher ground
meditate whitetail
free
lives of solitude
before the dark
--- e b bortz
before the big melt
& cross-country skis
go washing down
a mad river maelstrom
thread
snow packed trails again
touch deepest quiet
breathe weeping ridges
find the last surviving hellbender
and river otter
seek higher ground
meditate whitetail
free
lives of solitude
before the dark
--- e b bortz
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
red-blue-red, part 2
no color this morning
gray waves blanket
red east rush
the d word
slips in the back door
there won’t be an i
this blue mix
has nowhere to go
let red maples
steal
what time is left
--- e b bortz
gray waves blanket
red east rush
the d word
slips in the back door
there won’t be an i
this blue mix
has nowhere to go
let red maples
steal
what time is left
--- e b bortz
Saturday, October 27, 2007
earth note 108
last planting
before an indecisive winter
a couple of young alberta spruce
small spiral dense green needles
having wandered home
to a wet ground sanctuary
& mission
to hold
body-block
a slipping hillside
interdependence
tho the paranoid rail
all is futile
we’re lost
‘cept for the waiting
i refuse to accept this
--- e b bortz
before an indecisive winter
a couple of young alberta spruce
small spiral dense green needles
having wandered home
to a wet ground sanctuary
& mission
to hold
body-block
a slipping hillside
interdependence
tho the paranoid rail
all is futile
we’re lost
‘cept for the waiting
i refuse to accept this
--- e b bortz
Thursday, October 11, 2007
subliminal message
it seems
keeps poking itself
into morning
or is it night
as every voice speaks
in the past tense
though it may
be the present
a glassy gulf of thailand heat wave
gathers water
drops
find secluded orchid patches
to breathe
but i’m afraid of nodding off
& missing sunset
snow crust creaks at zero degrees f
ski tracks weave minnesota poplar
pine & peat bogs
perfect shadows
mostly cloudless blue
a small strong sun
chases storm clouds east
the voices only have faces
mouths that move
but no sound
i’m thinking these must be
perfect love songs
no one can hear
least not me
lips shaped full
wet
smooth dark
hot red
silence
--- e b bortz
keeps poking itself
into morning
or is it night
as every voice speaks
in the past tense
though it may
be the present
a glassy gulf of thailand heat wave
gathers water
drops
find secluded orchid patches
to breathe
but i’m afraid of nodding off
& missing sunset
snow crust creaks at zero degrees f
ski tracks weave minnesota poplar
pine & peat bogs
perfect shadows
mostly cloudless blue
a small strong sun
chases storm clouds east
the voices only have faces
mouths that move
but no sound
i’m thinking these must be
perfect love songs
no one can hear
least not me
lips shaped full
wet
smooth dark
hot red
silence
--- e b bortz
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
even a fifteen day fast
against war
with another eleven days
to go
couldn’t shake the frat boys
into anything close to
what’s beyond their next beer
but some were reached
like a weepy eyed grandmother
some veterans
a whole lotta
deep hippies
deep green
deep believers
a new counterculture revolution
earth goddess gaia
to jesusmohammedmoses
we stand
with the fasters
not fasting ourselves
a military recruiter
gazes away quick
maybe thinking why
they’re still here
trucks & buses spit
unburned diesel
over crowded streets
emerging & broken dreams
the here & now
is the message
don’t wanna
even visualize
a resurrection
--- e b bortz
(published in The New People, Nov 2007)
with another eleven days
to go
couldn’t shake the frat boys
into anything close to
what’s beyond their next beer
but some were reached
like a weepy eyed grandmother
some veterans
a whole lotta
deep hippies
deep green
deep believers
a new counterculture revolution
earth goddess gaia
to jesusmohammedmoses
we stand
with the fasters
not fasting ourselves
a military recruiter
gazes away quick
maybe thinking why
they’re still here
trucks & buses spit
unburned diesel
over crowded streets
emerging & broken dreams
the here & now
is the message
don’t wanna
even visualize
a resurrection
--- e b bortz
(published in The New People, Nov 2007)
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Alternative September 11th
Of course, there are Republican and Democratic politicians who abuse
the memory of those who died on Sept 11th for their own agendas of
war, empire, and vengeance.
Of course, there are Republican and Democratic politicians
who use the climate of repression to further repress...breaking up
immigrant families with brutal detentions and deportations. It’s hard to
determine who screams the loudest for the watchtowers and walls
along the Mexican border.
Of course, there are Republican and Democratic politicians who whine
in panic about the shortfall of military recruitment...they lament
the ‘good old days’ of an endless reservoir of human beings...cannon fodder
for the death machines provided by military conscription.
No Draft...No Way!
Of course, there are the real power brokers of Republican and Democratic
administrations...the war machinery and weapons manufacturers,
the military base builders, the fossil and nuclear energy corporations,
the sicko health industry and pharmaceutical lobbyists that block
national single-payer healthcare, the forest plunderers and mall developers...
these are but a few of the corporate paymasters masquerading
as political contributors.
And then, there is us...who remember those who died on Sept 11th
by rededicating ourselves to a just, peaceful, and sustainable world
by demilitarizing and democratizing our own society. On this and on
all future Sept 11ths, war-makers will shrill at the wind...
but WE must build community.
--- e b bortz
Sept 11, 2007
Forbes Avenue, Pittsburgh
the memory of those who died on Sept 11th for their own agendas of
war, empire, and vengeance.
Of course, there are Republican and Democratic politicians
who use the climate of repression to further repress...breaking up
immigrant families with brutal detentions and deportations. It’s hard to
determine who screams the loudest for the watchtowers and walls
along the Mexican border.
Of course, there are Republican and Democratic politicians who whine
in panic about the shortfall of military recruitment...they lament
the ‘good old days’ of an endless reservoir of human beings...cannon fodder
for the death machines provided by military conscription.
No Draft...No Way!
Of course, there are the real power brokers of Republican and Democratic
administrations...the war machinery and weapons manufacturers,
the military base builders, the fossil and nuclear energy corporations,
the sicko health industry and pharmaceutical lobbyists that block
national single-payer healthcare, the forest plunderers and mall developers...
these are but a few of the corporate paymasters masquerading
as political contributors.
And then, there is us...who remember those who died on Sept 11th
by rededicating ourselves to a just, peaceful, and sustainable world
by demilitarizing and democratizing our own society. On this and on
all future Sept 11ths, war-makers will shrill at the wind...
but WE must build community.
--- e b bortz
Sept 11, 2007
Forbes Avenue, Pittsburgh
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
questions from a cold rain
have we created a darkness
of no return
convinced ourselves
that everything remaining
is the embodiment of light?
when my thumbs cover
my eardrums
does the pounding stop
or has it just moved over
two blocks?
what constitutes a beginning
if all deeds become
unaccountable apparitions
shadows replace what was once
sight
kiss the rain
--- e b bortz
(published in opednews.com, May 18, 2011)
of no return
convinced ourselves
that everything remaining
is the embodiment of light?
when my thumbs cover
my eardrums
does the pounding stop
or has it just moved over
two blocks?
what constitutes a beginning
if all deeds become
unaccountable apparitions
shadows replace what was once
sight
kiss the rain
--- e b bortz
(published in opednews.com, May 18, 2011)
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
recovering notes from the deep, part 2
when the iron ore strike began
in august 1977
i suddenly felt
a huge decompression
a liberation coming
i was out with thousands
from northern minnesota
& michigan upper peninsula
no more
swing shifts
4 a.m. getups
radio calls
for electrical troubleshooting
my kids began talking to me more
throwing the ball around
we grew
and as the picket duties
lapsed into the fall
i dusted off an old underwood typewriter
and began recalling
and observing
maybe for the first time
what was around me
or had been dormant
for years
i saw the hay fields
go to seed
and the ground freeze up
a movement of canada geese
with better formation
than our picket line
the quiet of the north woods
broke through
watching a snowshoe rabbit
run for cover
frost covering the tamarack
on frozen wet lands
still
i thought back
on the decade before
on the streets of chicago in ‘68
the un-democratic party convention
refusing induction into the u.s. army
the slippery cobblestones
from pittsburgh’s north side
and all the teenage heartbreak
jive five
still ringing from those back alleys
the alberta clippers came
my chainsaw worked overtime
to grow the wood pile
it was either that
or no heat
everything became retrospective
the new age hadn’t
emerged
and this strike was becoming
more defensive
than anything else
trying to keep up with the cost-of-living
we stayed out four months
and if nothing else
won respect
the words beaten out
on that underwood
somehow got misplaced & lost
there were some sleepless nights over that
but i guess i’ll just move on
& make up
what i don’t remember
--- e b bortz
(published in The New People, Nov 2007)
in august 1977
i suddenly felt
a huge decompression
a liberation coming
i was out with thousands
from northern minnesota
& michigan upper peninsula
no more
swing shifts
4 a.m. getups
radio calls
for electrical troubleshooting
my kids began talking to me more
throwing the ball around
we grew
and as the picket duties
lapsed into the fall
i dusted off an old underwood typewriter
and began recalling
and observing
maybe for the first time
what was around me
or had been dormant
for years
i saw the hay fields
go to seed
and the ground freeze up
a movement of canada geese
with better formation
than our picket line
the quiet of the north woods
broke through
watching a snowshoe rabbit
run for cover
frost covering the tamarack
on frozen wet lands
still
i thought back
on the decade before
on the streets of chicago in ‘68
the un-democratic party convention
refusing induction into the u.s. army
the slippery cobblestones
from pittsburgh’s north side
and all the teenage heartbreak
jive five
still ringing from those back alleys
the alberta clippers came
my chainsaw worked overtime
to grow the wood pile
it was either that
or no heat
everything became retrospective
the new age hadn’t
emerged
and this strike was becoming
more defensive
than anything else
trying to keep up with the cost-of-living
we stayed out four months
and if nothing else
won respect
the words beaten out
on that underwood
somehow got misplaced & lost
there were some sleepless nights over that
but i guess i’ll just move on
& make up
what i don’t remember
--- e b bortz
(published in The New People, Nov 2007)
Thursday, August 09, 2007
earth note 107
the climate change movement musicians
closed up their cases and went home
or back on the road
some of the reunited bands stayed together
others went separately
and then everyone listened
for the groundswell
that has yet
to come
of course that’s the problem
waiting
for what your neighbor might do
for what so-and-so politician
might do
the paid-for will only go
so far
the paid-for have agendas
to keep them
paid-for
but you already know this
from the many times
you
pledged allegiance
without reciprocation
selling comfort zone
crash insurance
has its limits
where is our sweat
in the receding flood waters?
--- e b bortz
closed up their cases and went home
or back on the road
some of the reunited bands stayed together
others went separately
and then everyone listened
for the groundswell
that has yet
to come
of course that’s the problem
waiting
for what your neighbor might do
for what so-and-so politician
might do
the paid-for will only go
so far
the paid-for have agendas
to keep them
paid-for
but you already know this
from the many times
you
pledged allegiance
without reciprocation
selling comfort zone
crash insurance
has its limits
where is our sweat
in the receding flood waters?
--- e b bortz
Thursday, August 02, 2007
aren't we all brothers & sisters?
lifetime
fleeting moment
what’s a legacy?
what will be passed on?
last tree on the plain
cared enough to even think about it
when will we wake up?
is there a tomorrow in today?
compromises make empty promises
in every death
there must be life
--- e b bortz
fleeting moment
what’s a legacy?
what will be passed on?
last tree on the plain
cared enough to even think about it
when will we wake up?
is there a tomorrow in today?
compromises make empty promises
in every death
there must be life
--- e b bortz
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
pain begins
when there’s recognition
those still anesthetized
sleep thru the alarms
for the conscious ones
a nation’s self-respect
must be reborn from love
by those willing to walk
lonely hollows
back street dumpsters
death bed confessions
let
the anointed ones scramble
--- e b bortz
those still anesthetized
sleep thru the alarms
for the conscious ones
a nation’s self-respect
must be reborn from love
by those willing to walk
lonely hollows
back street dumpsters
death bed confessions
let
the anointed ones scramble
--- e b bortz
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
earth note 106
april 1989
93 degrees 93 percent humidity
bannasan
suratthani province thailand
raises a mountain cliff
of clouds & rainbows
equator rock tear leaving
a few nerves upended
just after ditching my bicycle
at the base
to get a better view
a spontaneous jolt
to even go there
that sunday
hot-under-the-collar road
down from the stalls & markets
of suratthani city
rolling past sweet coconut
smell
of a sun steeped in orange blaze
a couple of tuk-tuks sped out around me
a field of farmers hold their scythes
in resignation
avoiding the straight-up rock face
cathedral without priests
i soak with the rainforest
of miniature buddhas
--- e b bortz
93 degrees 93 percent humidity
bannasan
suratthani province thailand
raises a mountain cliff
of clouds & rainbows
equator rock tear leaving
a few nerves upended
just after ditching my bicycle
at the base
to get a better view
a spontaneous jolt
to even go there
that sunday
hot-under-the-collar road
down from the stalls & markets
of suratthani city
rolling past sweet coconut
smell
of a sun steeped in orange blaze
a couple of tuk-tuks sped out around me
a field of farmers hold their scythes
in resignation
avoiding the straight-up rock face
cathedral without priests
i soak with the rainforest
of miniature buddhas
--- e b bortz
Sunday, June 03, 2007
kayak dragon boat adam
plays the china card
allegheny rigor mortis of history
will ignite tomorrow’s blue haze
a story awaits a muse
let sumac & grass
sprout in rusted hulls
of old coal barges
as we cut the wake
on a distant point
see crumbling pilings
abandoned fuel tanks
speak haiku morning
visualize
yet another dawn
--- e b bortz
allegheny rigor mortis of history
will ignite tomorrow’s blue haze
a story awaits a muse
let sumac & grass
sprout in rusted hulls
of old coal barges
as we cut the wake
on a distant point
see crumbling pilings
abandoned fuel tanks
speak haiku morning
visualize
yet another dawn
--- e b bortz
Friday, June 01, 2007
gross power disparity
take your pick
war
poverty
injustice
pollution
media
elections
corporate hegemony
or
grassroots democracy control
forget dem/repub focus groups
greenwashy middle ground
a thousand shoulders
move the boulders
--- e b bortz
war
poverty
injustice
pollution
media
elections
corporate hegemony
or
grassroots democracy control
forget dem/repub focus groups
greenwashy middle ground
a thousand shoulders
move the boulders
--- e b bortz
Monday, May 21, 2007
dust covered layer
blinds the face of a transparent backpack
a nosy (nebby) officer
gives it the once over
there’s nothing for you here
don’t wipe it clean
just some personal stuff
best kept hidden
stowed but not forgotten
beneath desolation angels
a place on earth
who would of ever thought
anything close to exposure
would come
years after
the dust settled
--- e b bortz
a nosy (nebby) officer
gives it the once over
there’s nothing for you here
don’t wipe it clean
just some personal stuff
best kept hidden
stowed but not forgotten
beneath desolation angels
a place on earth
who would of ever thought
anything close to exposure
would come
years after
the dust settled
--- e b bortz
Friday, May 04, 2007
sometimes silence can be the best poetry
like the space between the stanza
don't bite your fingernails
let the words grow under them
first
speak everything into an inner ear
floppy tongues can make
dull bedfellows
--- e b bortz
(published in The City Poetry, issue 20, Sept 2007)
don't bite your fingernails
let the words grow under them
first
speak everything into an inner ear
floppy tongues can make
dull bedfellows
--- e b bortz
(published in The City Poetry, issue 20, Sept 2007)
Thursday, April 12, 2007
neoliberal prescription
for war is not
no war
but conscription
coerce the misery
a whole generation adrift
they say
waits to be steeled
they say
(bullshit...inequality has/will always be a prerequisite)
those who speak for a draft
lack the conscience
to resist one
tanks will starve
hollowing out an ancient legion
of empty uniforms
empire hucksters
conformity
vengeance idolatry
just war flimflam
death tricksters
--- e b bortz
(published in opednews.com, April 4, 2013)
no war
but conscription
coerce the misery
a whole generation adrift
they say
waits to be steeled
they say
(bullshit...inequality has/will always be a prerequisite)
those who speak for a draft
lack the conscience
to resist one
tanks will starve
hollowing out an ancient legion
of empty uniforms
empire hucksters
conformity
vengeance idolatry
just war flimflam
death tricksters
--- e b bortz
(published in opednews.com, April 4, 2013)
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
earth note 104
joseph city, arizona, 1979
from the water tower
it’s a short hike to a dried out
ancient little colorado
even the omnipresent
flyash tailings pond
hissing at the wind
bullying it off its natural course
can’t muffle the original pueblo spirits
protectors of the canyons
stringing north to the grand one
thru rock like windows
perception is all in the
keepers of the vision
--- e b bortz
from the water tower
it’s a short hike to a dried out
ancient little colorado
even the omnipresent
flyash tailings pond
hissing at the wind
bullying it off its natural course
can’t muffle the original pueblo spirits
protectors of the canyons
stringing north to the grand one
thru rock like windows
perception is all in the
keepers of the vision
--- e b bortz
Monday, March 26, 2007
iraq vigil/dirge
in front of a congressman’s office
the comfort of an empty cold rain
is at least honest
as the “ayes” have it
another paymaster 100 billion
for death rows iraq
& occupier embassy
walls
boots
choppers
build a monolith
of broken flesh
--- e b bortz
the comfort of an empty cold rain
is at least honest
as the “ayes” have it
another paymaster 100 billion
for death rows iraq
& occupier embassy
walls
boots
choppers
build a monolith
of broken flesh
--- e b bortz
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
any poet that says
there wasn’t one written
way back
that needs to be disowned
is probably in some kind of
protected witness program
like incognitos anonymous
redundancy
for shitty writing
i looked one over this morning
head was still clear
wondered how
a recall might be advertised
anonymously
--- e b bortz
way back
that needs to be disowned
is probably in some kind of
protected witness program
like incognitos anonymous
redundancy
for shitty writing
i looked one over this morning
head was still clear
wondered how
a recall might be advertised
anonymously
--- e b bortz
Monday, January 29, 2007
your armchair activism
has lost its stuffing
nothing left to soften the real
yet we look everyday
self-reflection
words of sages
distorted but still cognitive
a broken mirror can be a message
in itself
--- e b bortz
nothing left to soften the real
yet we look everyday
self-reflection
words of sages
distorted but still cognitive
a broken mirror can be a message
in itself
--- e b bortz
Friday, January 12, 2007
a speech
the other night
by a president
carpet-bombed guernica
again
we mute the sound
let the children
sleep
bach bourree segovia
--- e b bortz
by a president
carpet-bombed guernica
again
we mute the sound
let the children
sleep
bach bourree segovia
--- e b bortz
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
rage of the poetry critic
predictable
as shit-laden stallion hoof beats
pound white
like empire gentry
and the words coming
from the margins
kept marginalized
concrete this
cut-up that
who really knows
the origin of the beat
the sound
wasting away
a gutter’s rag
can be honorable
infidel labor
--- e b bortz
as shit-laden stallion hoof beats
pound white
like empire gentry
and the words coming
from the margins
kept marginalized
concrete this
cut-up that
who really knows
the origin of the beat
the sound
wasting away
a gutter’s rag
can be honorable
infidel labor
--- e b bortz
Friday, December 15, 2006
my eyelids
slamming shut
never stopped me
from writing a poem
fact is
maybe it could help
focus
someone said my driving
might improve also
haven’t tried it
yet
traffic is a lot noisier
when your eyes are closed
just heard a dog yelp out the back window
not my dog
his paws are scratching the floor
behind me
this might be good therapy
for politicians & generals
close your eyes
shut the fuck up
& listen
--- e b bortz
never stopped me
from writing a poem
fact is
maybe it could help
focus
someone said my driving
might improve also
haven’t tried it
yet
traffic is a lot noisier
when your eyes are closed
just heard a dog yelp out the back window
not my dog
his paws are scratching the floor
behind me
this might be good therapy
for politicians & generals
close your eyes
shut the fuck up
& listen
--- e b bortz
Monday, December 11, 2006
earth note 103
the snow was still white
on the fifteen year photo
from the laurentides
the brightest day
of that year
covered your face
with doubt
& wonder
--- e b bortz
(published in split w*sky, December 2006)
(published in Trumpet Call, Green Panda Press, 2012)
on the fifteen year photo
from the laurentides
the brightest day
of that year
covered your face
with doubt
& wonder
--- e b bortz
(published in split w*sky, December 2006)
(published in Trumpet Call, Green Panda Press, 2012)
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Green Roots & Harrisburg Blues
Titus North
(photo by Sandy Hazley)
Green Roots & Harrisburg Blues
(Published in The New People, Pittsburgh, PA, December 2006)
by e b bortz
You know when you’re in the middle of one of those indelible segments in your life...the kind that will twist around and transform the emotional and logical sides of your internal processes. Social change, politics in the broadest sense of the word, is often the tumultuous vehicle that delivers that impact.
This year, as has been the case since 1996, Green Party activists in the Pittsburgh area and across Pennsylvania hit the streets in early March petitioning to place Green candidates on the ballot for the November election. We had no illusions about the task at hand. To place our candidates Carl Romanelli for the U.S. Senate, Marakay Rogers for Governor, and Christina Valente for Lt. Governor on the November ballot, we would need more than 100,000 petition signatures, to satisfy the repressive Pennsylvania ballot access requirement this year of 67,070
registered voters’ signatures. Of course it wasn’t just signatures. The petition, technically known as a nomination paper, also required a printed name, address, and date of signing for each person willing to sign.
In the Pittsburgh area, we were energized by the desire to place Titus North on the ballot for Congress in the Fourteenth Congressional District. We all felt deeply that Titus needed to be on the ballot so that voters would have the chance to express a strong vote for peace and the immediate withdrawal of U.S. troops from Iraq, an unequivocal approach to national health care for all, equality, immigrant rights, and a defense of the Constitution and due process --- issues where other politicians have been “missing in action.” We probably talked directly to over 50,000 people on the streets, at peace and social justice events, at festivals and at farmers’ markets all over town. Greens in Allegheny County sensed a historic mission this year, and turned in over 7,400 petition signatures for the statewide candidates, which also included over 6,200 for Titus North’s ballot access.
After successfully defending against an unnecessary petition challenge from incumbent Congress member Mike Doyle (PA-14, Democrat), Titus and the Greens went on to roll up 17,720 votes or 9.9 percent in the Fourteenth District, a Green record in Allegheny County. This vote total of November 7, 2006 will maintain minor party status for the Green Party of Allegheny County.
But numbers don’t really do justice to this story. The dynamics, turmoil, and ultimate miscarriage of justice in Harrisburg from the challenge by the Pennsylvania Democratic Party to Carl Romanelli’s ballot access for U.S. Senate, needs a book written about it. This isn’t the space for that. But I would be remiss if I didn’t at least attempt to put down, in raw form, some personal notes I’ll call...
Harrisburg Blues
We knew that the challenge to our statewide candidates would be relentless, with the full weight of the Pennsylvania Democratic Party, the Bob Casey Campaign (with their millions in campaign money), and the Pittsburgh law firm of Thorp Reed & Armstrong --- all aligned against Carl Romanelli and a determined group of Green Party grassroots activists and allies, including several from Pittsburgh. Most of us had never faced a political challenge of this kind. From time to time, we huddled out in the hall of Room 304 of the Capitol’s North Office Building, everyone giving their best advise on how to stay focused with the task at hand, and to offer that personal encouragement and solidarity so necessary in order to remain positive.
The actual logistics of our defense involved nine pairs (one Green, one Democrat) reviewing every challenged petition signature, literally thousands, using nine state voter database terminals of the SURE system. We worked eight hours a day in Room 304 from August 14 to September 22. For Titus North and myself, a tent in Gifford Pinchot State Park near Harrisburg became home.
There was an atmosphere of tension and threats of “contempt of court” in Room 304 that had basically been created by the imposition of the court ordered “Protocol for Signature Review” of August 24, 2006. These rules became the mechanism to discard signatures; essentially disenfranchise the rights of thousands of legitimate voters who had freely signed the Green Party nomination papers.
Some of the protocol criteria that knocked legitimate voters off of our petitions:
1) The signer’s name and address were in the voter database, but for some reason, the voter’s signature was not on file in the SURE system. These were likely problems of the database or the local election office. Under the protocol, these valid voters were marked “invalid.” There were hundreds of these instances across the state.
2) The petition listed the signature first, followed by the printed name of the signer. We lost many valid signatures because the order was reversed. We always objected to this triviality, but mostly lost our arguments, sometimes over the screaming of Democratic Party lawyers in the room, enforced by a Court Officer.
3) The SURE system database was horribly inconsistent in it’s formatting of street name directional descriptions (e.g. “South 08th Street” in Philadelphia might be identified as “Eighth Street, S” in Allegheny County). Many signatures were not validated due to this confusion in the first week of the review. Even with the discovery of this problem, we were not permitted to revisit these signatures with additional search attempts at a later date. There was no consistency with rural route addresses in the SURE system either; hundreds of these signers were likely “invalidated” due to this inconsistency.
4) There were some very contentious exchanges between Greens and Democrats when the challenge was based on the criteria “Signature Varies from Registration Card” or “Illegible Signature.” No one in Room 304 was a handwriting expert, making it even more important to have a good faith/common sense approach to this issue. I specifically remember my counterpart on a particular day, a burly fellow from South Carolina who was helping the Casey Campaign, telling me “I don’t think all those letters in that signature look right to me.” It was my opinion that this signature, like many more during that unfortunate day, were lost to the “disputed” column rather than being credited as valid.
5) One of the mantras of the Democratic Party lawyers was that signatures must be struck if they were “facially invalid.” Mind you, these registered voters were real voters at their given addresses, but were nonetheless invalidated; possibly entering all of the necessary information, but maybe abbreviating “Reading” in Berks County with “Rdg,” or reversing some other information on the petition line.
6) And what about the voter that had moved out of the dorm and into a neighborhood nearby and now has a new address that was used on the petition but was never changed at the election office? Even with a confident and consensus arrived verification of signature, we lost thousands of these signers for “Address Varies from Registration Card.”
7) We argued and won a little bit of relief on the issue of nicknames, but not on the issue of initials (either added or missing) in the signature. It’s a simple fact of life that many people don’t remember how they signed their voter registration years ago, and for that, they were essentially disenfranchised. What’s next, literacy tests and poll taxes?
So it was a tremendous victory when Titus North made it to the November ballot by “rehabilitating” through extreme persistence, two-thirds of the bogus challenges, and having them restored to the “valid” category. In the interest of full disclosure, I give Mike Doyle some credit for using an independent consulting firm to perform his end of the challenge to Titus’ petitions. We made it clear that Titus would go to court and win ballot placement based on our review results; thus, Mike Doyle dropped his lawsuit against Titus. But of course, it was a tremendous waste of our resources to even go through this aspect of the torture.
For Carl Romanelli, we persevered to the end, but without success. Commonwealth Court acknowledged that the statewide Green Party petitions had 58,139 valid signatures, 8931 shy of our goal. The Court rejected any re-examination of the many thousands of “disputed” signatures based on a “lack of time,” turning down all appeals with the stroke of a pen. Rallies and press conferences for democracy were held in the capitol, but for the most part, we were systematically ignored by the media. The trivializing of this whole episode by the media was probably best expressed by Chris Potter on August 17 in the Pittsburgh City Paper:
“My personal favorite Romanelli backer, though, is one “Jack MeOff,” who apparently resides on “Cum Street,” city unlisted.”
Potter also mentions that Robert Redford and Jesus Christ signed the Green Party petitions. My questions to Chris Potter are, does that invalidate the nearly 100,000 other signatures on these petitions? How can you so easily buy into the corporate media (some would say propaganda) machine, without even the appearance of a fact-finding effort? And with only 2000 signatures required of Democrats and Republicans for these same statewide offices, when will we read your words about the biased nature of this whole outrageous ballot access regime? Got democracy? When does it start?
Today, Carl Romanelli faces hundreds of thousands of dollars from a lawsuit designed by the “winners” to recoup their legal fees. That’s right, when you run for office as a Green or Independent, get challenged by the political establishment and get kicked off the ballot, you may also face complete personal financial ruin. This kind of vindictiveness is nothing short of police state methodology. As peace and social justice activists of all political stripes, we need to be fully cognizant of the climate we operate in. The trashing of the Constitution and the bashing of immigrants has become a bi-partisan affair. To simply relinquish the platform in the electoral arena to the major parties, is an invitation to more repression and scapegoating.
A new “muscular” Democratic Party has taken Congress as the voters have emphatically rejected the Bush-Santorum record of endless war and social neglect. How will the muscle be used? These times demand a kind of vigilance and leadership on democracy issues that only grassroots peace and justice activists can provide. Who will stand with the dispossessed?
An injury to one is an injury to all.
******************************************
Thursday, November 23, 2006
monongahela
green-brown waters
splashing past the new marina
the very spot the old coal barges
used to dock in another life
the blooming mill is rust now
split up and deported across the world
like a shattered family
lost in the new age
tin lunch boxes roam the streets
of south side
past the galleries and coffeehouses
searching questioning
rationalizing
some see only chaos
some see only promise
black soot from the past digs deep
into the granite along carson street
‘a gift to the people’
the river watches laughs weeps
as it ripples across our bare feet
awakening tomorrow
--- e b bortz
(published in Voices of a Wanderer, 1993)
splashing past the new marina
the very spot the old coal barges
used to dock in another life
the blooming mill is rust now
split up and deported across the world
like a shattered family
lost in the new age
tin lunch boxes roam the streets
of south side
past the galleries and coffeehouses
searching questioning
rationalizing
some see only chaos
some see only promise
black soot from the past digs deep
into the granite along carson street
‘a gift to the people’
the river watches laughs weeps
as it ripples across our bare feet
awakening tomorrow
--- e b bortz
(published in Voices of a Wanderer, 1993)
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
strip mauls
on mcknight road
angry
maybe even drunk
monster hummer roars
from bankruptcy court
all the way to taco bell woodchip landscape
sitting still as lincoln
navigator flex fuel illusion
i smell predators
planning designing assaulting
every earth diagonal
turning lanes up the ass
but no sidewalks
my feet find
an anxious paranoid opening
i run
--- e b bortz
angry
maybe even drunk
monster hummer roars
from bankruptcy court
all the way to taco bell woodchip landscape
sitting still as lincoln
navigator flex fuel illusion
i smell predators
planning designing assaulting
every earth diagonal
turning lanes up the ass
but no sidewalks
my feet find
an anxious paranoid opening
i run
--- e b bortz
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
a glimpse of jfk in '62
every row house on columbia place
disappeared a generation ago
ripped level to the ground
leaving the october grass
in the frost
by itself
echoes of the marcels
breaking barriers
bricks & mortar still in small piles
in the corners of the alley
if you take the sacred time
to find it
the stoops held
every tear
not in a song
but an anthem
fearless
in the nick of time
my sadness
his eyes
a throng waves
his ivy league convertible
coming down to rub our shoulders
a broken proletarian haze
between us
no words
but rhythm
a thousand dreams
--- e b bortz
disappeared a generation ago
ripped level to the ground
leaving the october grass
in the frost
by itself
echoes of the marcels
breaking barriers
bricks & mortar still in small piles
in the corners of the alley
if you take the sacred time
to find it
the stoops held
every tear
not in a song
but an anthem
fearless
in the nick of time
my sadness
his eyes
a throng waves
his ivy league convertible
coming down to rub our shoulders
a broken proletarian haze
between us
no words
but rhythm
a thousand dreams
--- e b bortz
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
the power went out
and interrupted
early morning internet news
not germane
if that
sitting in darkness
i slip into that bungalow
on the beach
in koh samui in '89
moon lit black reflections on the water
broken by her
clumsy entry into my bed
humid breeze the water breathes
without convention we whisper
love
for the broken souls
who find refuge
from the machinations
of hustlers & money changers
horizon plunderers
the pavers of paradise
are given no space
between us
if there's a single truth left
let's consummate it
build orange-green-yellow-red
buddha visions
rice offerings
bodies in transition
--- e b bortz
early morning internet news
not germane
if that
sitting in darkness
i slip into that bungalow
on the beach
in koh samui in '89
moon lit black reflections on the water
broken by her
clumsy entry into my bed
humid breeze the water breathes
without convention we whisper
love
for the broken souls
who find refuge
from the machinations
of hustlers & money changers
horizon plunderers
the pavers of paradise
are given no space
between us
if there's a single truth left
let's consummate it
build orange-green-yellow-red
buddha visions
rice offerings
bodies in transition
--- e b bortz
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
it looked like a choice
between the self-righteous
and the sinners
but it was more than that
entire civilizations were at stake
there were the blasphemous ones
with no respect
for order & property
if they had lawns
they never cut them
kept planting new shrubs
to squeeze out the old
unleashed & unwashed
burn in hell you say?
o.k...maybe there's a deal
to be made
even
as the john kerrys still
report for duty
the press reported a study today
655,000 iraqis dead
our war
so far
not counting depleted uranium
graveyards to come
not too stiff a price you say
as long as congress approves
where is your vote
among the living or the dead?
--- e b bortz
and the sinners
but it was more than that
entire civilizations were at stake
there were the blasphemous ones
with no respect
for order & property
if they had lawns
they never cut them
kept planting new shrubs
to squeeze out the old
unleashed & unwashed
burn in hell you say?
o.k...maybe there's a deal
to be made
even
as the john kerrys still
report for duty
the press reported a study today
655,000 iraqis dead
our war
so far
not counting depleted uranium
graveyards to come
not too stiff a price you say
as long as congress approves
where is your vote
among the living or the dead?
--- e b bortz
Monday, October 02, 2006
a friend said i wouldn't write the same on the internet
it took a few years
to shed the pretense
tho the bones are empty
now
i wouldn’t blame you
if you walked that long mile
out the back door
forgot
the culture as a weapon
or a savior
when all else fails
crows always
fly the most direct route
geese always
know the way home
the broken bottles
hold colors of the rainbow
tho the tops
are a sharp cut
& my lips too weak
to hold the gin
--- e b bortz
to shed the pretense
tho the bones are empty
now
i wouldn’t blame you
if you walked that long mile
out the back door
forgot
the culture as a weapon
or a savior
when all else fails
crows always
fly the most direct route
geese always
know the way home
the broken bottles
hold colors of the rainbow
tho the tops
are a sharp cut
& my lips too weak
to hold the gin
--- e b bortz
Thursday, September 28, 2006
no one imagined
that the night
would speak riddles
or that the rules of love
would become
the new order
--- e b bortz
would speak riddles
or that the rules of love
would become
the new order
--- e b bortz
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
sanctuary
common blood
warm
thawing hidden bodies
immigrants
and soldiers
desperate
for the anonymity
of darkness
their conscience
the light
--- e b bortz
(published in The City Poetry, issue 18, March 2007)
warm
thawing hidden bodies
immigrants
and soldiers
desperate
for the anonymity
of darkness
their conscience
the light
--- e b bortz
(published in The City Poetry, issue 18, March 2007)
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
realitycheck
globalwarmingclimatechange
hedgefundstockoptionsenronism
wildfirescaliforniafloridaarizona
floodinglouisianapennsylvania
bigdigbostontunnelcollapse
46millionw/ohealthinsurance
deadfallujahdeadhadithadeadpalestine
deadlebanondeadhaifa
deaddarfurdeadmississippi
deadsagominedead@mexicoborder
deadbypolicechaseand/orshooting
deadbylethalinjection
deadspeciesdeadforests
politiciansinbedwithdeath
consumewalmartconsumetelevision
idolconsumptioncosmeticsurgery
fastfoodgorgeregurge
then the rest of the planet
--- e b bortz
hedgefundstockoptionsenronism
wildfirescaliforniafloridaarizona
floodinglouisianapennsylvania
bigdigbostontunnelcollapse
46millionw/ohealthinsurance
deadfallujahdeadhadithadeadpalestine
deadlebanondeadhaifa
deaddarfurdeadmississippi
deadsagominedead@mexicoborder
deadbypolicechaseand/orshooting
deadbylethalinjection
deadspeciesdeadforests
politiciansinbedwithdeath
consumewalmartconsumetelevision
idolconsumptioncosmeticsurgery
fastfoodgorgeregurge
then the rest of the planet
--- e b bortz
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
my sons
have tasted the waters
the icy gales of lake superior
the barbed wire
and fallen trees
on the owego creek
racing rapids on the susquehanna
the murky smell of the jordan river
near the great salt lake
the challenge and rage
of the pacific
adventure is always bittersweet
our love is always sweet
--- e b bortz
(published in ptrint 3 x 5, August 2006)
(published in Voices of a Wanderer, 1993)
the icy gales of lake superior
the barbed wire
and fallen trees
on the owego creek
racing rapids on the susquehanna
the murky smell of the jordan river
near the great salt lake
the challenge and rage
of the pacific
adventure is always bittersweet
our love is always sweet
--- e b bortz
(published in ptrint 3 x 5, August 2006)
(published in Voices of a Wanderer, 1993)
Monday, July 17, 2006
i should have stood in tel aviv
for rachel corrie
with the peace marchers
citizen vigilers
putting bodies against the tanks & rockets
last sunday
rejecting all the pretexts
for siege and invasion
wet dreams from self-inflated generals
made-in-america munitions manufacturers
she died as children all die
from beirut to gaza to haifa
your voice has reason
listen to it breathing
--- e b bortz
(published in opednews.com, March 18, 2013)
with the peace marchers
citizen vigilers
putting bodies against the tanks & rockets
last sunday
rejecting all the pretexts
for siege and invasion
wet dreams from self-inflated generals
made-in-america munitions manufacturers
she died as children all die
from beirut to gaza to haifa
your voice has reason
listen to it breathing
--- e b bortz
(published in opednews.com, March 18, 2013)
Sunday, July 16, 2006
there's no security
in the old order
asphalt patched concrete
heaving up
from the mantle
pedestals by definition
are abused visions
broken tar
a melting planet
sunflowers
to be borne
--- e b bortz
(published in The City Poetry, issue 18, March 2007)
asphalt patched concrete
heaving up
from the mantle
pedestals by definition
are abused visions
broken tar
a melting planet
sunflowers
to be borne
--- e b bortz
(published in The City Poetry, issue 18, March 2007)
Sunday, July 02, 2006
earth note 102
kayak cheating
drafting thru the lily pads
behind a dozen geese
snake-like
ripples kick up the carp
screwing in the shallows
by the time i returned for take-out
another goose rendezvous
readying for put-in
pecking shoreline heads
sift thru the grass
white bottoms in the air
wings drip
hot breeze
--- e b bortz
drafting thru the lily pads
behind a dozen geese
snake-like
ripples kick up the carp
screwing in the shallows
by the time i returned for take-out
another goose rendezvous
readying for put-in
pecking shoreline heads
sift thru the grass
white bottoms in the air
wings drip
hot breeze
--- e b bortz
Thursday, June 29, 2006
earth note 101
silt trail levee
delaware & susquehanna bowels
another coincidental
hundred-year flood
the piper gets paid
in unsecured
treasury notes
--- e b bortz
delaware & susquehanna bowels
another coincidental
hundred-year flood
the piper gets paid
in unsecured
treasury notes
--- e b bortz
Monday, June 26, 2006
corporate personhood
ultimate oxymoron
contradiction epoch
bed of a theocrat
wedding rapture
flesh talkin armageddon
--- e b bortz
(published in split w*sky, December 2006)
contradiction epoch
bed of a theocrat
wedding rapture
flesh talkin armageddon
--- e b bortz
(published in split w*sky, December 2006)
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
earth note 100
marshall trail, pittsburgh
a good number of these stones
have been turned over
a thousand times
there's no record of this
beginnings often go unnoticed
but they look too smooth
to have gone untouched
a storm early this year
put a few hefty branches across the trail
my dog negotiates the path
of least resistance
obediently
i follow
the tent caterpillars have moved on
hemlock beech maple oak
have reclaimed the canopy
the monoculture forests up north
not so lucky
you know the lesson
of monocultures
but it doesn't hurt to repeat it
a few politicians wake up
to the new reality
but they're still debating
whether it will be
fire or ice
next time
our hands link back
to the stories & stones
that go unnoticed
--- e b bortz
(published in split w*sky, December 2006)
a good number of these stones
have been turned over
a thousand times
there's no record of this
beginnings often go unnoticed
but they look too smooth
to have gone untouched
a storm early this year
put a few hefty branches across the trail
my dog negotiates the path
of least resistance
obediently
i follow
the tent caterpillars have moved on
hemlock beech maple oak
have reclaimed the canopy
the monoculture forests up north
not so lucky
you know the lesson
of monocultures
but it doesn't hurt to repeat it
a few politicians wake up
to the new reality
but they're still debating
whether it will be
fire or ice
next time
our hands link back
to the stories & stones
that go unnoticed
--- e b bortz
(published in split w*sky, December 2006)
Friday, June 09, 2006
earth note 99
who can say which side
of the fine line
you're on
keeping low expectations
or being a cynic
reluctant tulips
sometimes cautiously open
on a dark day
is this a vote of confidence
or are they just covering their ass?
on flag day
can we wrap our wounds
with old glory
without fear
or should we be using
hoods & duct tape?
a guidance counselor
shuffles the deck
another dozen
head for boot camp
a few petals drop
the rest twist
a gray cloak hangs on the maples
across the road
in what should be
their deep green season
inhale
exhale
my cat makes it across the avenue again
tell yourself
you're not a cynic
--- e b bortz
of the fine line
you're on
keeping low expectations
or being a cynic
reluctant tulips
sometimes cautiously open
on a dark day
is this a vote of confidence
or are they just covering their ass?
on flag day
can we wrap our wounds
with old glory
without fear
or should we be using
hoods & duct tape?
a guidance counselor
shuffles the deck
another dozen
head for boot camp
a few petals drop
the rest twist
a gray cloak hangs on the maples
across the road
in what should be
their deep green season
inhale
exhale
my cat makes it across the avenue again
tell yourself
you're not a cynic
--- e b bortz
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