having no expectations

or mission statements
will shake you just as surely
as every grandiose moniker
stumbling on to enlightenment

the road isn't a carefree proposition

you'll need to tear a piece of your flesh
and leave it for the opossums

the lost are those

that still believe

--- e b bortz

 

earth note 391

old frame houses in key west
almost seem to creak with a good wind
     especially when the porches are filled with people
and at night
away from the lights
walking the streets
when all else is quiet
you'll hear fronds sweeping
over the sidewalk
whispering voices
many languages
a lone guitar or mandolin
a taste of saltwater on your lips
     these streets have comforted
castaways
drifters
pranksters
lonely planet searchers
     of beauty

--- e b bortz

 

earth note 390

a windy chop
is rough water
no matter how
it gets cut

pelicans eat

on the fly
ibis lollygag
in the weeds

--- e b bortz

my mother knew how to hide the red diapers

my brother and i
were born into
from the peeled paint
on moore street in toledo
the tracks were well covered
even if i still had my ear
up against the victrola
listening to sweet lorraine
     my step-dad's favorite song
paul robeson
the weavers
yiddish freiheit
songs of my father's lincoln brigade
my mother fully acknowledging
the justice and injustice around us
even if she said that
sonofabitch lawyer
who settled
my parents' divorce
wasn't a good representative
of the brotherhood
of man
of woman
of children

the roll-top desk

in the living room
was my place
to hide the dark
and bright drawings
of an eight-year-old
the desk coming to us
from the estate of a noble doctor
who had to go underground
to escape the mccarthy committee
this desk had the temperament
and perseverance
for life
from the margins
into our own self-acceptance

and of course
everyone knew better
than to ask us
the name
of the good doctor
     we never give up names

--- e b bortz

earth note 389

the mobile homes
on the canal
were placed
almost half a century ago
temporary has evolved
into permanent temp
like a seven dollar fifty cent
macjob
stuck in low tide
with no way out
to the bounty
of the trophy fishers
just beyond an arm's length
sunburn
where your trusty reach
is a sign of manna
promised
where only the sun
speaks your language
deep mangroves
your only peace

--- e b bortz

 

earth note 388

faint cloud streaks shoot across the sky
southwest to northeast

blue makes a pale excuse

for high noon

there's no space

for the outlier
lacking intensity

turkey vulture

bears down
in the bicycle lane

a parrot next door

repeatedly says hello
even if he doesn't mean it

--- e b bortz

 

geranium street, pittsburgh 1967-68

one gas space heater labored
to keep the second floor apartment
warm enough
aluminum siding
flapping in the wind
in this experimental living situation
sometimes we'd watch the blue flames
in a darkened room
like they were a fireplace
belonging to judy collins
or buffy sainte marie on cripple creek
speaking to us in notes and moments
in time being marked
and then consummated 
     spontaneity meant that
there would be no turning back
from the inevitable
     separation
bound to be lonely
every decision thereafter
feeling like worn through boots
     stumbling
for a wishful thought

from the surface of every unmarked road

there was incongruity
loss of wholeness
an empty treeless coal fog hollow
visualized angst
leaving only one way in and out
footsteps blindly retraced each day
past new experiences
missed in translation

by summer
bodies had replaced barricades
tie-dye mixed within the text
of a half-dozen slogans
from a mimeograph machine
rippled over every alleyway
a teeming heat wave
made of dreams
deep black ink
marking songs
sung
to grow
beyond the hollows
to free the rivers
to square the city steps
to lift the stones of sisyphus
with love

--- e b bortz

the radio chirped away next door

about the traffic jam heading in
to key west
the bridge work again
getting to the hot & bothered
but at least it isn't raining
     again
the high tide retreated
     leaving 
ibis to pick through what's
     left behind
florida's nonexistent groundhog day
passed without being noticed
though there were iguana
scooting across the road yesterday
     in full sun
with & without shadows
bright fluorescent iguana green
     giving everyone the middle finger

--- e b bortz

 

that wind in your face

on a bicycle seat
is public defiance
or at least a self-serving illusion
     so i'll take the criticism
that the holier than thou dish out
and live with it
in my own mind's eye

the atlantic never

comes up to you
in a friendly way
nothing idyllic
the beach
being offered & sold
from some new internet portal
is a scam
to get you cornered
& stripped before
you cancel your credit card

if you're not careful

you'll find yourself
stuck watching
some bullshit political debate
carved out of stolen
coral & sand
& imprisoned mammals
     let the whales speak

there's more substance

than the dogma can identify
take what you need   
     leave me the wind

--- e b bortz

 

conch

a crusty old sailor
told me he lived on a mooring
with a shabby boat
near no name key
almost as good as a mailbox
though he needed a kayak on board
to get back & forth to shore
especially when the storms came
and they always did
least expecting

toilet pumping out

was a steady expense
cooking on board
required a lot of creativity
living alone with an acoustic guitar
and a few soggy books
wasn't paradise
but surely better
than a homeless shelter
in some mega city
or suburban wasteland

he kept an old bicycle

hidden in the mangroves
for his overland transport
or trip to the bus stop
or public library internet

of course none of this

was set in stone
he had to be nimble
with no expectations
somewhat immune to bug bites
and jellyfish
content in losing himself
in the prism of a sunset
skedaddling when necessary
following the glide of a pelican
the eyes of an osprey
the scrappy mind
of a turkey buzzard

--- e b bortz

primary question

it's such a struggle
to suppress the base instincts
when thinking back
on the democratic party convention
police riot in chicago 1968
tear gas is indelible

like a billy club

the size of a baseball bat
ramming my skinny ribs
shoving us thousands
back up michigan avenue
bloody heads
made for hubert horatio humphrey's
law & disorder legions
mayor daley's thugs

a few eugene mccarthy delegates

would sometimes come out
clandestinely
and give the throng
soft drinks
even as we asked them
why aren't you with us
in the streets

it's still a fair question

the same old film footage

plays again on cnn tonight
i'll try again to purge
the poison
some of it my own
without making excuses
looking everyone in the eye
asking as honestly as possible
where do we go now

--- e b bortz

earth note 387

rolling waves on the gulf of thailand
pitching the travelers
to grab on to the rails
the ferry plows ahead doggedly
two and a half hours
to the port of na thon
on the island of koh samui

i do my best to ignore the commotion

rolling with my bicycle wheels
down the ramp
on to the island ring road
and then away from the town center

the sun and water are dominant

giving the coconut trees
the best chance to stand out
to ignore the buzz
of the tuk-tuk traffic

in a dream

the world can be clear
though fleeting
freedom
sometimes lives
in the smallest
of spaces

--- e b bortz

    1989

pend oreille river

idaho / washington

near july fourth

the river flow still
had a mind to rush
even as the dam choked it
& the mosquitoes gathered
dripping
'til sunset
hanging on the tent mesh
like a refuge
not discouraged
by the campfires above us
deep green forest moisture
creeping back into the river basin
the ranger clued us earlier
that this very spot
didn't get a lot of
out-of-towners
the local kids stomping
across the wooden bridge
told us as much

we weren't sure

whether we slept
on the idaho or washington
side of the 'border'
to where the original people
lived     spoke     sang
fished     hunted
dreamed     loved     created         
cut wood     hollowed out canoes
sewed clothing     taught children
connected generations
buried ancestors     wept
danced     made community

--- e b bortz

earth note 386

a cold wind
subtly separates
verdana from tahoma
every once in a while
you wonder if that's
all there is to it
you're still looking out
for the joshua tree
but realize you're off by
a couple thousand miles
     the gulf won't take you there
     the sun will wane before your eyes
     the broken road still leaves
     a bad taste

so you'll wait for a better day

to open your hand
and release every gnawing question
even a fist can be clenched too long
fingers forget how to point
'til the soil with its own clock
and heartbeat
remembers forsythia
will break out in the spring
to be
     and if there's a renewal gifted
     the ground will shake
     and transform
     to a season unexpected

--- e b bortz

 

earth note 385

doves lined-up
single file
in the strip mall
on the pizza works roof
fifteen hundred miles
and forty years
from the time clock line
at the homestead works
     faces still gray

--- e b bortz

poetry raw

makes no excuses for itself
no anti-acids
to calm it down
it rips from within
'til it spills out
and if you think it will fit
the labels and keywords
maybe you're missing part of it

predictability

and/or repetition
plows up the row
most efficiently
tiptoeing      sleepwalking
past every new embryo

for the jargon

or genetically modified perfect constructs
there will always be a place
of servitude
elbow patched corduroy jackets
and at least another workshop

--- e b bortz

dead zones

in the forecast
embed the soil and oceans
the great ice sheet in greenland
turns away
and shrinks
surgical masks have replaced lungs

bankers and their fossils

have generously
offered up the latest gizmo
(rope)
for all of us to hang
don't take it

the cumulative wealth process

has concentrated carbon to diamonds
to gold
to money
to junk bonds
to social collapse

the declining labor participation rate

(for decades)
is the only good news
redistribute the wealth
(guarantee a livable annual income for everyone)
or put your head back in the sand

the tide will do the rest

--- e b bortz

earth note 384

the days are inching longer
a reflective sunrise off the canal
brings color

but there's no peace

in the shadows
behind the sand pile

even a clear morning

has confusion
the tides wash overland

someone mentioned

that the flea market
won't be deterred

osprey takes the highpoint

--- e b bortz

economic growth

is a cancer
projecting from
the mouth of
talking heads
     spoken in many languages
it matters not
what the trigger is
     war     climate catastrophe    
     ebola     rocketing healthcare costs
     oil speculators     rent gougers
if the prices go up
all is justified
all is short-term
all is forgotten by the next election or coup d'tat
poverty is a street
paved in spreadsheets

--- e b bortz

 

time

is a highway
of interrupted dreams
though you think they
can be cupped
in your hand
saved for another day
released
to a perfect midnight sky
each memory
still intact
or made whole
filling in each crack
is what you do
your work comes
then leaves
nothing is compromised
nor traded

--- e b bortz

 

earth note 383

a couple hundred bodies
on a narrow strip of beach
brought a new year
into focus
where they all came from
isn't so important
as where they might all be going
young ones in floatation
old ones creaking on beach chairs

hurricane season may be hiding

but there's a tornado or three
in the midwest
our floods are coming home
to roost
every kayak a life boat

a mangrove becomes our nest

the sun squeezing in
equals a puddle rising up
an uneasy equilibrium
won't dry the clothes

a swarm of needle fish

dive below the pier
a fishing line and pelican
shake off entanglement
     there are no absolute destinations

--- e b bortz

 

in the daybreak

there is the excuse
for a moment
of honesty
not pretty
like the palms
coming to light
but it is moist
sweating
and alive

--- e b bortz

by gosh

it seems a lot of us humans
get so philosophical
and sentimental
near the end
of each roman calendar year

those romans knew how

to prick you
didn't they

and of course

we've left another
year of devastation
& turmoil
behind us

so being reflective

isn't so bad
an idea

but still

if there's a way
to escape tomorrow's humdrum
surely someone
will package that
for the next
big box store

i'm trying

not to make light
of these deep deep
considerations
after all we really
go around
but once
don't we

so when the new calendar starts

i'll try & get things rounded out
in my own head
     no guarantees of course

--- e b bortz

earth note 382

a cloud covered sun
in its own magic
is often overlooked

at the roadside pull-off

last night near dusk
we musta looked like
local experts in our
beach chairs
at least one tourist
wanted our advice
on a good viewing spot
we didn't have any authoritative answers
so they drove off frantically
missing the cormorant's sunset catch

this morning

for a moment
sun & rain converged
dwelling together
letting the ibis
pick their turf
between the puddles
     'til the turkey buzzards
     showed up

prediction:

the sun will eventually
win the day
     try again tonight

---e b bortz
 

gale cometh minus the video

scaring the birds away
the gulf raising its whitecaps
leaving the gray sky
to shift for itself
in the wake of a bending tree
     there comes a time
to just sit
and listen

--- e b bortz

even this machine can be dismantled

begin at the beginning
the steam turbine is obsolete
to raise coal from the ground
to something like an altar
is sacrilegious
feed water systems
are poison to our purity
     sacrificial bodies line the flyash pond
a million coughing refrains
is not hard to understand
     in any language
there comes a time
for a shakeup
doggerel & all
but a plan is nothing without tools
those darkened fingernails
only scratch the surface

--- e b bortz

earth note 381

sun and wind
finally crossing over
the rubicon
the clothesline at little torch key
drying out
pools of mosquitoes
can still fool yah
hiding in the shadows
haven't seen much
of the puffy white clouds
the season of tourists
decked out again
in their weekend best
a bathing suit in marathon
becomes a conversation
a few kayaks and fishers
jostle for an open space
the chinese buffet batters on
air conditioning contractors
still get a preferred table

--- e b bortz

 

walking highway one

some roadside stores
change each season
the constant struggle
of the mangroves
with the almighty dollar
even a new church
with an obscure name
advertises that it's
     'coming soon'

patches of thicket along the highway

homeless made to hide
     shade from the sun
     a torn sheet of visqueen for rain
     a place to pee

at little duck key

the water is especially warm
jellyfish flutter close to shore
     a tourist gets stung
great egret
     steps
     like into a ballet dance
     feet mingle long enough
     to make an impression
     then moves on

little duck key epilogue

     a sudden hawk attack on the sandpipers
     seagulls screaming sound the alarm
          everyone gets out alive

--- e b bortz