forgetting my key west cap on the oklahoma panhandle

chalk it up to age

or the red soil in your eyes

or a dark day before a moonless

or full-moon night

sometimes the stars

cover your wounds

'cept for the ones inside

sometimes you just need

to change everything

let the algae blooms

eat themselves out

or let's barge in and choke

the oil platforms

in their embryo

the heat is pushing

the rio grande backwards

up from the gulf through the canyons

of elephant butte

all the way to albuquerque

and then on to colorado

before cooling down a bit

it's never been like this before

native people in alaska

losing their homes and shoreline

to the rising ocean

charting new maps

backtracking moose tracks

reindeer herds lost on a winter night

those americana chords

were dug up about the time

of the maya

before the exceptional

became an ism

when the clay of the human hand

could lead you back home

--- e b bortz

earth note 720

an editor years ago

after publishing a shitload of my poems

over a several year period

asked me to stop using

the earth note numbering method

     for poem titles

implying that i seem to have found

a lazy way of titling

     yeah

     there's an element of truth there

but i've never been a fan

of orthodoxy

nor of conforming

to any editor-self-inflating-wordplay

     puffery makes poor poetry

so let that stand as my

     au revoir

--- e b bortz

earth note 719

the morning had color

for a change

what's left of maple yellow

bright contrast

on a broken blue sky

scattering shadows

left by a muse or two

     you know this is a full-time job

--- e b bortz

earth note 718

after a day of rain

the land changed

the flat roof porch turned into a still life

the rivers still too low to be heard

     hide their shadows instead

in maples well on their way

to being leafless

you already know the phrase

about weather men & women

repeating the obvious

is too easy of a way

     out

there is no way out

when the dog barks

you know you've taken

too much for granted

a rumbling below

comes in an odd frequency

     only nonhumans and trees can feel it

if you stay to the trail

footprints and words

become predictable

--- e b bortz

earth note 717

about the time we reach new mexico

every gnarly haired dog

will become the wildness

     free spirit

of the mesquite tree

like the one growing

out of the rock

its roots going deep

     deep enough

to survive another dry year

the sun drops on its way

to a brown horizon pulling it down

high desert dreams become dust

     as the ground shifts

mesquite twists

--- e b bortz

jerome arizona circa 1980

our paths may have crossed

about the time the art galleries found a home

on main street

long after the copper mine wars

now metal desert

a dustbin portal from the wobblies 1917 strike

& deportation from the land of the 'free'

i don't know if utah phillips ever wrote

a song about it

but he might have

and long before that

the songs of the hohokam

now sculpted into cold rock

transitioned into old frame houses of living color

     oil paint on canvas

frame makers and fabric artists

i can see a singer/songwriter

in a vintage studio

& tourists climbing those hills

carrying their own crosses

and yes there's always love

     kate wolf

heartbeats     hands & a voice

caught just in time

when the verde valley

sings

--- e b bortz

earth note 716

first flakes are listless

almost still

random rendezvous

to even fall this gray morning

is still something

of a transformation

--- e b bortz

i never said the highway wouldn't be just an empty promise

any direction

year in year out

corn fields or orange groves

when it all passes

it's just

earth or ashes

just because you hold the wheel

doesn't mean you'll ever stay

on the straight and narrow

the lines in your face

and below your waist

tell a different story

someone a long time ago

told me that every day

that passes without a reckoning

is just another wasted one

     eventually

you run out of days

what looks like doom

might just be the end of time

or a song not written yet

or hidden words between the lines

you forgot to speak

when you had the chance

--- e b bortz

earth note 715

riding rain and a gray overcast

a drum line of crows

echo from the wings

to center stage

followed by an entourage

of a hundred more

their voices riffraff

backbeat

then fade

--- e b bortz

all the old imperial quotes

puffed up from fifty years ago

like a wake & speech that never end

regurgitated

back to life

just to grab those last couple foundational illusions

     obedience & authority

then to polish the buttons on the uniforms

     one more time

for another war cloaked in the rhetoric

like 'we have no alternative'

but to soldier on

and protect the oil fields

for future generations

with the vast deserts of the inferno

where the abyss will rise up and find

the silent majorities

--- e b bortz

earth note 714

riverview park where you can't see the river

beginnings aren't always what they seem

like the ohio valley

purportedly beginning

in its customary thick haze

where two other rivers come together

unless of course the deep green north fork

was always the allegheny

like the ohio was never born

but only a continuation of the north fork

and where a south fork monongahela joined in

unless of course as summer peters out

leaving the insides

of a monotonous confusing screenplay series

sold to netflix

stirring up the drought

on the way downriver

everything dried up

like a cracker plant full of plastic promises

for every bent chief executive

a folded worn out dollar bill

might be okay in a monopoly game

but it sure as hell won't explain

who buried the rivers in silt

who grew the fly-ash mountains and dams

and where are the weeping willows

when you really need them

--- e b bortz

earth note 713

1

it all started at the southern tip

of digby neck in nova scotia

the whales speaking of loneliness

but with their innate knowledge

just before sun up

knowing the atlantic as deep

as the coming rain

before it doubles back as a nor'easter

painting the shoreline deep rocky gray

disregarding any difference

between night and day

2

by the time you reach

the acadia wilderness

autumn will finally take hold

all the storms pushing inland

the possibility of a few weeks

looking dry

3

from cape cod

there are drums

banjos and fiddles

before the state park

closes for the season

one more trip to provincetown

for the rainbow frame houses

4

it's a long stretch down

to ocracoke island

sometimes the headwind

as beautiful as it might be

will stop you like a wall

choose your winter coat carefully

or don't stop until you get to

5

daytona beach

in the company

of a thousand beach bikes

there's always a cajun dance

that started somewhere in nova scotia

don't care if they call us squatters

so far the sand is still free

and the roar of the highway muffled

by the rush of the halifax river

--- e b bortz

earth note 712

start writing in darkness

by dawn

all will be clear

winter is still two months away

the streets are filling

with advocacy

water wars have begun

leave the oil & gas in the ground

beyond the desert

a canyon known as wealth gap

says it all

a square dance from fancy gap western virginia

ain't no reel

a derrick in every hollow

is a poor excuse

for a schoolhouse

find a lonely fiddler without a bow

the highway is more than a blue ridge

your bumper to bumper

has forgotten the aboriginal mounds

listen to the river it will take you home

a black sky

has the capacity

for empathy

give out a shout if you see a sunrise

--- e b bortz

earth note 711

a roof and chimney throw a shadow

against the hillside

mortar and shingles go missing

boarded windows line the alley

migratory birds gather in the old churchyard

maple green holds on

goes orange without notice

the sky will sing

when it's time

blues is always an open highway

--- e b bortz

even when there's a lot to worry about

sometimes the best you can do

is to balance on one foot

maybe like making the leap

from the mountain position to the tree

holding yoga steady

your eyes focused straight ahead

claiming that defiant

pre-las vegas elvis presley smirk

as your protest if you feel up to it

a fiddler's americana might be misnamed

but the grass holds onto its last chlorophyll

long into autumn

when the mandolin or the sitar take over

and guide the dead leaves

to a final resting place

circle unbroken

hands around the world

you can say it even if your lips don't move

amen

--- e b bortz

earth note 710

itasca county minnesota

frozen swamp grass

now brown

don't trip between the clumps

the water will freeze any day

first flurries

will dance with you

like the wind

--- e b bortz

earth note 709

rolling hills and reservoirs

unraveling near the kansas-nebraska line

coming apart in blue-green algae

we pitched the tent

but stayed away from the water

the cattle & fertilizer runoff

the summer heat working

like a petri dish

growing out of its boundaries

finding a dirt road flanking north

escape to the first town in nebraska

with fresh water

coffee & eggs

--- e b bortz

earth note 708

photo by Sandra L Hazley

there's a bakery & cafe

in mancos colorado

alumni of woodstock

with dusty hills rising around

to become evergreen

once your shoes

take to walking

then you'll know

this isn't the place

of lands end

but the beginning

     this long road perpetuity

stone ground bread of the earth

janis joplin blues

like sweet then tart blueberries

strawberry fields

     yet to come

--- e b bortz