earth note 693

higgs beach smathers beach key west

the coral is still up against the wall

the african cemetery mourns sunrise to sunset

aids memorial grows new bricks

a bicycle drops two hundred dollar sunglasses

friday artists open their booths with bluegrass

dog park liberators run an underground railroad

happy hour drunks are happy to forget what happened yesterday

a guy named al still runs a taxi service

by new years eve there will be a premium on high heeled sneakers

a cruise ship is flooding duval street with fake currency

every convertible rental comes with a barf bag

the people who work at the library deserve a big raise

ditto for the people at the salvation army thrift store

another street musician another poet finds a home

--- e b bortz

table for two no waiting

beside a red bird house

where the legs are still rigid

forged in the crucible

a sanctuary

like barcelona

that my father spoke

in whispers about

there's enough shade to give us cover

--- e b bortz

only gray

i've tried but failed

to explain it

in black and white

very likely

there will be hell to pay

next year

our hands and hearts are open

but the words on the banner

bleed obsolete or confusion

carry it forward

nonetheless

maybe the river will alter course

stow away all previous explanations

including the words

     new epoch

this is not an exercise

in pessimism

or any ism

but simplicity

is not a strong card

right now

find your neighbors

keep your backpack ready

help carry the water

--- e b bortz

earth note 692

it took a month to acclimate

to the rainforest in thailand

opposite side of the earth

the body dripping free

     renewal

like a monsoon summer

water     always the source of life

flushing out soot and rust

coming from the midwest

where names are best forgotten

it's only fair

to begin at the origin

     stolen land and slave ships

backyard coke ovens and coal mines

there is more than history here

     twisted & forgotten

mountain songs

spring outta bowels and fault lines

     skipping past the egalitarian dreams

ellis island has walls of its own

there are no answers outside the rainforest

     this is not an original idea

maybe there are no answers

     at all

keeping an open ear to the ground

looking for the cloud trailing off with a story

you'll know it when you feel it

even rain pelts eventually shrivel the body

in the age of the ancients

there are no timelines

--- e b bortz

earth note 691

marshall trail

without speaking

the woods say it all

there's a tree laboring along the hillside

a steel lash close behind

a maple perfecting

the rope-a-dope

the twist & shout

the rattle of a streetcar rail

empty for decades

like the car barn scrapped

in piece rate

coughing up another deficit

     void of imagination

the judges from judges row

have fled to the suburbs

their terraces abandoned

secretly bleeding toward the avenue

when the air is heavy enough

the asphalt sweats

escape and follow the old trail

of the ancients

every tree contributing its own weight

rooted by common soil

of the living

--- e b bortz

earth note 690

koh samui 1988

for now the water is calm

lie on your back

you are closer to the equator

than you realize

a compass is only an instrument

by dawn the sea will open

like an extended hand

you'll suddenly find sunrise

it won't be like yesterday

or the week before

the waves pitch unique angles

on every floating body

for now the water is calm

--- e b bortz

earth note 689

the trees have lost their mojo

     gone limp

motion drained out like a clearcut forest

a dove sits alone on the wire

dreaming of escape

too hot to move

when the storm finally arrives

critters will panic for higher ground

flood plains will spread thru the hinterlands

at least one specie will be looking

for a place to bury their head

tv drivel is the offering before the upheaval

getting in all the advertising

before the power goes out

leaves hang from their own weight

only the dog knows what's up

barking like a precursor

corn & soy beans rot

where the sun hides

where the river meets the highway

--- e b bortz

every open end wrench leads to pennsylvania

the wind will rise

with the 5 o'clock whistle

it'll wake up the proletariat

like no manifesto

just in time for friday night drive-ins

starring the wild ones

& every rebel

with a cause

--- e b bortz

earth note 688

medano river bed

the water learns to ripple

like blood from the earth

every spring

barely surviving the summer heat

great sand dunes

the driest of southwesterly mexico winds

from the hillsides you see

towns     highways     dust storms

let your feet find footing

in the shadows

sangre de cristo

--- e b bortz

earth note 687

koh samui, 1989

it had rained a rainforest

the night before

thatched roof holding on

mosquito netting stretching over

the bungalow windows

for a sunday daybreak

all was quiet

tide washing up a steep pitch

channels in the sand

dark by dim light

i had thought it before

but never said it

     i was alone

     but not lonely

today would be a challenge

i would bicycle one and a half times

around the koh samui ring road

before the last speedboat of the day

left for surat thani

heat and rising water droplets

     breathing

from the hin lat falls

would bear witness

tuk-tuks would buzz all day

european and aussie tourists

would sing and gather on the beach

like in a quest of discovery

a farmer would pump up his bicycle tires

load his full weight in bananas

turn away from the sun

roll over the hills toward the port

     draped in a sweet smell of mango

--- e b bortz

recovering notes from the deep, part 21

it's been about fifty years since consciously

giving up sloganeering as ideology

     (as best i could)

     as a means to an end

which never rang true with my union brothers & sisters

obvious during the many ganja lunchtimes

in the parking lot

from those who actually looked beyond

the putrid haze

in the cusp

of rustbelt deindustrialization

it was more like up against the wall motherfucker

you're not telling me anything

     we haven't already lived

so it all gathered like a restless storm

antsy to

     get out

anxious to get off those stranded overhead crane runways

of neville island

find a new way and a new place

electrician tools and good wits

far far to the north

beyond the wrecking ball renaissance

where corrupted minds

(my own included)

dodging those aiming to break your spirit & body

so with each north woods winter

frozen death before renewal

when you see the northern lights

when you hear the loneliest of howls

kiss the night as your lover

raise an open hand

--- e b bortz

earth note 686

even as i type the words

     dog park

i feel the quiet eyes

focusing intensely

on the page

the head tilts a bit

the gnarly hair stands

     at attention

the nostrils twitch toward

the canopy beyond the ridge

there's heat rolling in

like a steamy tide

leaving our eyes to follow the trail

for the shadows

--- e b bortz

make love not war

--- e b bortz

only the words live on

photo by Sandra L Hazley

it seemed appropriate to be re-reading

     howl

in a dusty old chair in the key west used bookstore

just up the street from the cemetery

where souls still living or dead or in purgatory

roam on over and then spread quietly

throughout the stacks

leaving musty remembrances

falling into other worlds and dimensions

before during and after ginsberg

touching a most personal copy of a coney island of the mind

     ferlinghetti mischievously smiling on the wall

notes in the margins of desolation angels

that i bought and eventually lost

or gave away

likely buried now with kerouac

and then there was a signed chapbook from 1972 (?)

     by lyn lifshin

that passed thru my hands momentarily

and then back into a cluttered box only to be lost or sold

as we returned a couple days later

the bookstore has been gone for many years now

the reading lamps all removed and replaced

by sterile corporate logos no doubt

honestly it might be too painful to look inside

the old wood frame building

hoping to hear creaking floors

and voices

--- e b bortz

earth note 685

when the moon is bright

and the ocean is calm

black light stretches out

to the horizon

a mirror of your thoughts

are within your hands

you sift through sand

like deja vu

looking for that one connection

that lets everything else

     fall in place

but of course you think it always escapes you

you sit on that one spot in the cosmos

unique      never predetermined

random in time and place

     and for that you're satisfied

that all else is secondary

by morning

as tides come and go

the ibis and sandpiper

carry on

--- e b bortz

the hills of bannasan thailand

roll with the heat

rain opens pores from the earth

steaming      spinning upward

prayer wheels carry the message

     the mountain is rough but true

when you reach the cliff

listen for the sage

--- e b bortz

earth note 684

a lake is a character shouting clarity from the wetlands

it's not clear who's listening

the continental divide meanders along

and then suddenly settles all disputes

forests shape the dialogue

tamarack straight-back never giving an inch

poplar abundance

     the everyman specie

jack & norway pine the workhorses

sheltering the lakes

each lake

spider     crooked     swan     winnibigoshish

and ten thousand more

all characters

     in a play on words or the real deal

or just speaking up

like every lost soul refugee

from the blood & sweat cities

dying of thirst

looking for a pathway out

and a space within

to germinate seeds

to rise out from the grease pits

to hear like a deafening quiet

below the squealing pitch

of the tanker train

traversing the very spot

where you took your first steps

where the music begins

where a frozen pond

swallows the etchings of a poem

where the holy rolling highway

loses its way but recovers by starlight

--- e b bortz

earth note 683

rocky mountain national park, colorado

our tent site occupies a flat spot

a hundred feet up from the camping loop road

mornings are always cold

sunrise never fails to show a body covered in sky

far past the timberline

a lady looks upward

     still

as purple stone

--- e b bortz

earth note 682

an open eye is the beginning

your skin is your garment

it hides in the stone

a body endures and then moves on

--- e b bortz