earth note 450

osprey speaks
from the nest
language need not
be written
every sunrise
finds a voice

--- e b bortz

earth note 449

first light
reaches the cove
before pelicans
start fishing
i never tire
talking about mangroves
they keep you rooted in the real
green reflection
on the water
with a silence
no less a statement
in itself
predetermined
not happenstance

--- e b bortz

earth note 448

key west

along the atlantic

crusty kayaks sit still
on car & live-in econoline roofs
waiting for high tide
we're all transients

ohio wisconsin pennsylvania michigan

no this isn't a kayak electoral college
beaten like a dead metaphor
of the republic

the scantily clad

and the overdressed french speakers
grab for the bottle
of sun block 50

it's finally getting hot

the streets are filling
with aggressive car rentals
and no-defense bicycles

there's always a tipping point

but often people sleep thru it
the arc of the sun
leaves a trail unnoticed

--- e b bortz

earth note 447

some days i imagine
warm waves cresting together
from the florida straits
to the gulf of thailand

bound by water

the opposite sides of the planet
are connected
tuned into their respective

heartbeats and rhythms

--- e b bortz

earth note 446

waves collapse
in a ritual
bowing to broken clouds

some say

there's a secret current & path
toward the bay & ocean

but only if you agree

to give up all
previous assumptions

follow the birds

lest you be lost
in the mangroves

--- e b bortz

 

before we five there was we three

and us dead-end-kids version
of the folk revival
circa 1963 pittsburgh
five hundred miles
heard by way of peter paul & mary
my fifteen dollar guitar
from an east ohio street pawn shop
dropping off my greasy
adolescent hood trench coat
for a beatup navy peacoat
and some finger picks

we practiced in the basement

of the second-fifth presbyterian church
on brighton road and made a debut
in the chapel under the
watchful eyes of deacon moe
(of moe's little place barroom)
and the young preacher rev bob
walking the neighborhood
in coveralls & broken down houses
dark steel streetcar tracks
& dusty alleyways
looking for souls and songs
for we three to mix it up with

we eventually got to if i had a hammer

and what a hammer it was
never realizing until
the weight of the world
came crashing up columbia place
black and white was
all blues to us
the girls were into winking
making our voices quiver
in the heat
of the stark concrete city steps
or just another way
of reaching for the sky

--- e b bortz

hemingway piloted his boat up the canal

until he reached
an end wall
and then tried
turning around
as if to undo
the complications
of a no-exit strategy

the wind picked his hat

right off his head
leaving his gray beard
brushing against his lips
like a hairy lover
lost on the mist
the clouds rolling in
canceling high noon
and then leaving him
to his own memories

--- e b bortz

 

so what does that so-called poem mean

that it can hide
for years
without raising any eyebrows
like some kind of unintended gesture
waiting for
phony affirmation

the patches on the elbows

come from a long line
of academy
investments

yet the streets are full

of broken wordsmiths
outliving every bottle
empty
of ripple wine

--- e b bortz

 

these words

have made contact
with the earth
every step
a space occupied
by a foot
and an imprint

there's no running away

from the result

once you've decided

to move
your effort is complete

value judgments here

are not commodities

--- e b bortz

 

earth note 445

so i ask myself
have i gone off the deep end
or is this just reverie

you know the deep end

might just be the shallows
off snipe point

where the short-finned pilot whales beached

a couple years ago
and couldn't return to the sea

their bodies limp

the sunset reflecting
across their glassy eyes

every new year

the question comes to the surface
only to be ignored after the news hour

i hear the champagne plastic

clinking in starched bow ties
cruise ships disembarking

tonight

the waves refuse to crash
call it a requiem

--- e b bortz

 

no-name lagoon

nothing more than a big puddle

about a mile in

from the main road

on no-name key

the deer path has been

traveled hard

more beat-up

than a woody guthrie song

or kerouac ground level

lookout post

the gnats roost

on the water's edge

like the hens

on white street

in key west

the water's brown

with a faint smell

of sulfur

which i can't

for the life of me

really smell

but there's hard ocean rock

and coral

poking thru the soul

turkey vultures swarming

like hot air currents

above a songbird or two

deserted in their nests

a viewfinder

looks beyond

--- e b bortz

earth note 444

cortez, colorado

the ducks in the city park

had a small pond to swim in
near the library
always competing
for space
their voices never silenced
'cept by shouts
from children
with their summer games

at noon

the entire town management
comes walking down main street
maybe a half-dozen of them
the mayor is obvious in his bolo tie
at the head
of the entourage

the real worker though

might have been
the woman with the briefcase
and working lunch expression
on her face

the diner across the street

opened their doors
to the weathered look
of cowpokes
and dusty augusts

--- e b bortz

earth note 443

from a distance

koh samui rose

from the ocean

the hills standing

against the sun

laying bare the idea

that you need

a certain status

from birth

to be rewarded

with wonder

long before the year

of the tsunami

and a hundred miles

thru the rainforest

i replaced my flip-flops

falling apart

in the marketplace

in phuket

next to the stall

with shiny red stones

my thai was so broken

but understood

as the woman vendor

explained that the stones

were smuggled from burma

in spite of the prisons

     the red color coming

     from the sunsets

and that it was necessary

to keep this secret

from the authorities

i still look into the horizon

for rubies

--- e b bortz

winter solstice minus one

the rain blasted for half an hour
giving up to late afternoon no-see-ums
bicycle tires getting washed off
though the road was left with deposits
of grit & small stones
a few handfuls of fronds
scattered like the crosswinds
of a little torch key winter

i don't think my eyes

deceived me
when a couple
of pet peacocks
crossed the road
slipping under their
do not trespass
fencing

the bay was calm after the rain

a lone boat moored
     water like glass
     mangroves dripping

--- e b bortz

 

the yucca will make you bleed

the dark blood
of land abusers
sent in to build
livestock pens
on buffalo plains
sucking rivers dry
hundred-ton trucks
of rock and coal
reshape every cloudless horizon
in dust storms
and asphalt scar tissue
carbon byproducts
trading in less-life
expectancy
while carbon barons
make modern-day
robin hoods
for each generation

this land is not your land

it has no owners

--- e b bortz

 

earth note 442

hot easterlies out of the caribbean
an osprey acknowledges
with feathers blown full
my left shoulder
warms to the idea
of qi gong
in the morning
while the ibis peck
after the tide recedes
every action
causes a response
it isn't just
simply physics
there is flesh
and thumping blood vessels
in the distance

--- e b bortz

 

recovering notes from the deep, part 8

key west

a drifter's lament

might just be
what keeps you
going to the end
with the road
its own global positioning
without ones & zeros
the sun rises on the same
encampment
the census missed
if you're looking for
safety from the elements
keep your eyes wide
to scarcity
a plastic garbage bag
is a windbreaker

the new normal

doesn't bother
with excuses
your bootstraps
were never meant
for sharing
they say

and anyways

we need to be listening
to the tourists
who aren't motivated
by anything taking
more than a new york
or montreal minute
how fast can you say
instant hedonism

the hotels are busy

eating the beaches
resistance
is all that's left
this sand
can grow up & become
a barricade

there's no such thing

as culture shock
maybe only conscience shock
we all come out
of the same soup
there is no justice
or burial monument
deep or true enough
to comfort hundreds
of african bodies
dying
in key west in 1860

every sunset celebration

needs a moral compass
let the cruise ships
drop anchor
on the potomac river
in time for the coronation

i plead guilty

to stretching these words out
no one ever asked me
for credentials
so i look to the road and gestures
     and try to listen closely
     to your language

--- e b bortz

earth note 441

fronds taking deep bows
to the winds
today

most of them

stood their ground
facing the nor'easter head-on

surge from the canal

no seawall will stop
sandbags petition congress

--- e b bortz

 

at an undisclosed location in the florida keys

empty trails weave
through the mangrove
within a couple hundred yards
you've escaped the landed gentry
with their power boats
& surveillance helicopters
covering your ears
to the incessant moaning
of perhaps
lost surplus value
or is it just
less complicated
thievery

take the quiet

when you can get it
leave your bare footprint
for the next traveler

--- e b bortz

 

earth note 440

there's no need
for excuses
when the air turns hot
dripping in moisture
asking all
for a pound of sweat
a payment
to the false gods
of human dominance
their boats & trailers & shouts
negotiate the narrow canal
shifting quickly
to avoid collision
other life beings
trying to stay away
from contact

but there is music

from the sea birds
when you decide
to listen

--- e b bortz

 

earth note 439

turkey buzzards
swarming
touching down
a mile from last year's
gathering point
they seem to have lost
a little speed
or maybe just deflated enthusiasm
the mangroves
haven't changed too much
though the wind
keeps the ibis
undercover

--- e b bortz

this is a test

for the next week
i'm going to try
to not say
the following words
and see if my mind clears
or my attitude improves:
trump
clinton (either one)
republican or republicrat
democrat or demopublican
dnc
rnc
imf
mf
cabinet appointments
traffic on I-95

--- e b bortz

earth note 438

even without a photo
the sight of a solitary hawk
in a mangrove
as the kayak slips up
fifteen feet between our eyes
as they meet
her or his eyes
head & shoulders above
peering down
no image
no prey
i move on

ibis clustering

along the intercoastal
standing their ground
pecking forever pecking
where the grass
is always greener

osprey waits

on a barren branch
head jerking east then west
the most patient will prevail
     or to each
     according to their need

--- e b bortz

earth note 437

our kayaks
have always been
rudderless

you learned how

to put your shoulders
arms and back
into the motion
without the help
of navigators
pollsters
charlatans

if the wave breaks against you

you learn to make corrections
before it swallows you

there's nothing like

the salt
of your brow
as it touches your lips

---e b bortz

 

earth note 436

there's always one
drafting on the migratory flock
saving up for the headwinds
& storms
a long journey
sometimes has
no logical ending
though you know it
the moment you arrive
steady heartbeats
are not for storing
spend them as you go

--- e b bortz

earth note 435

not too often
that the sky moves to
a deep blue
on this side
of the continental divide

giving you angles of sunlight

deceptively cold & piercing thru the canopy
from the marshall trail
lies a forest of leaves
to lead you on

stone benches

pull your body heat
straight to ground
discharging
the angst of the season

--- e b bortz

 

my hypothetical friend in this election

spent not his youth
but his current teetering seniorhood
fake believer in what appears to be
an empty room for the lesser evil
star studded wallpaper as an option
(no thank you i'll keep my faux pas rather than)
essential incrementalism
too little too late
maybe rubbing shoulders
with talkers who go over my head
     as i try to throw up my verbal defenses
     usually failing
     borrowing from camus and simple rebellion
telling my friend the obvious
that this might be our last go around
     the imprint left on the trail outside
     is our only truth
     coming from our mostly honest bare feet
     making the journey to ashes or dust
     one for celebration

--- e b bortz

earth note 434

there's a toll road
to the whitehouse
that goes thru pennsylvania
broken upended sections of concrete
like a split in the ruling elites
(where the light slips in like leonard might say)
from the last hurricane
to the first standing rock
an fbi shuffle
is in the cards
satisfying bottomliners
both sides of a crooked aisle
keeping a lid on things
becomes an end in itself

a seed is found

& cast as a green vote
the ridge finds
a river moving

--- e b bortz