earth note 734

sun and storm isolating in the same frame

spring stands naked as a flag

blowing straight in from the west

betsy ross should have been designing surgical masks

a clash with the northerlies is imminent

--- e b bortz

the poets should go back to work

everyone else should stay home

or take a dog for a walk in the park

the poets have never earned their keep

let 'em work now

or we can round 'em all up and put 'em

in cages like in texas or china

we'll show 'em what isolation's like

there goes a cardinal on the forsythia

what a clash of red and yellow

this ain't no exercise

the rain's washing the gutters

but the trash is left behind

there's a mountain of medical waste

hiding in some hollow

if you have nightmares

wear latex gloves to bed

the poets should stop feeling sorry for themselves

not everyone's charles bukowski

     and anyway

     the liquor stores are closed

your jeans are looking thread-bare

dream up a few lines

and shout it out

in front of the dollar general

let the poets go back to work

     damn it

     everyone else

     keep a distance

--- e b bortz

earth note 733 adjusted for the virus

night rain ends

the dog is still dreaming as in whimpering

every street is coffee black

most of the houses

are on lockdown

save your ire while you're still feeling it

keep your hands away from your face

don't pick your nose

shave away your facial hair

you were never born with it anyway

a county executive wants to cleanup the porta-johns

at the frackin cracker plant construction site

didn't anyone tell him

     shit flows downhill

     don't bite your fingernails

     (and payday's on friday)

so the store shelves got raided

before sunrise

toilet paper has made it to the commodity exchange

you need keys to the city

to get into the senate office building bathrooms

so take the money & run in your cleanest jockey shorts

i won't be voting for you anyway

a pickup truck with a rusted-out bed

is dropping his muffler on the avenue

no one told him to keep quiet

& stay home today

so he's heading downstream

to the cracker plant

     river rising

--- e b bortz

antidote

when the eyes are clear

look to the arches

buttes and mesas

carried up through the ancients

gathering their roots

in the veins of

diné

apache

hopi

ute

zuni

     a thousand more

--- e b bortz

earth note 732

indigenous green and brown

the riverbanks of the tapi river

gathering like runoff silt

color and grain

before the western structures

before industrial agriculture

touching the land

marks your beginning and end

in the thai language

there's a whisper

for every syllable

a free secret

beyond bitterness

out of the forest

a body extends

like the branch of a tree

even for the skeptical

a kiss will always

warm the living

your hands are your eyes

the small airport was crowded

for a weekday

our hands were sweaty

the announcements gave us

little time before abandonment

there were lies we told each other

it felt right for the time

i gave her a bob marley cassette

she gave me a photo

from the beach in songkhla

since then i've read a story or two

about the farang who leaves

     a heart

in the quiet alleys

of the mind

like the heat from the equator

never leaves your body

--- e b bortz

mom, columbia burner toledo, and the house on fulton street

the paint was completely peeled off

an old man sitting in a rocking chair

exposing a dark wood exterior

think of swampy boards and humidity

off a soupy lake erie

we lived next door

my older brother was in grade school

i was three or four walking down to a neighbor

and a house full of hungry kids

while mom put in another factory shift

at columbia burner

this was about 1951 or 52

and an over-sized sombrero

was placed on my head for a picture

with a photogenic donkey

making the rounds

in the neighborhood

there was white bread and peanut butter

for lunch most every day

the house full of babysat kids

ate fast and then ran out to the sidewalks

and back alleys

looking for adventure

     as i followed

being maybe the youngest in the gang

meant being coaxed into a good number

of more risky dares

like throwing a water filled balloon

at the old man's porch

which brought him out yelling

in an unfamiliar language

when i was asked

how old i was i remember trying

to say as clearly as possible that i was three

but it came out through my whistling front teeth

     that i was

     free

nonetheless i'm not exaggerating to say

that i am truly sorry for all past transgressions

     even at this late stage

even as the creaky frame houses

     fade

or get plowed under

and the peanut butter

left on your face

becomes indelible

--- e b bortz

blond is a time of day

when javelina find their way

     nirvana

just beyond the water's edge

where creators bring their stories

     in drums

--- e b bortz

earth note 731

photos by Sandra L Hazley

bosque del apache national wildlife refuge

your natural gray waves

fill my insides

mane and camera take hold

like a sandhill crane flyout

     beyond

     a passing morning

--- e b bortz

earth note 730

photos by Sandra L Hazley

socorro county, new mexico

road dust superbowl sunday

through cactus & pinyon

a sudden butte & a blue mesa

only one pickup truck for fifty miles

with a cowboy hat waving

hello and goodbye

--- e b bortz

earth note 729

take your infected body politic

to the summit

the trail has no markers

find roots that are still alive

gather rainwater in your boots

spit out the toxins before succumbing

i know the land is unrecognizable

and you still have years of wandering

--- e b bortz

sometimes the words just stumble and fall in the street

peeling away at first light

context is just another word

for you've run out of excuses

sublimating your low continuous moan

into the background

maybe this is your new voice

down the avenue broken glass

lets in an aimless snowfall from the mountains

you've set your sights

for the rock falls

acknowledging the weight of gravity & history

--- e b bortz

red-brown-blue

as a bare hand digs

through many movements

there is no direction

to the gravel

blood dries

then moves on

the sun leaves

a residue

every tone

will deepen

the river bottom

becomes your anchor

only the sky

projects a zenith

beyond the treeline

there's still a witness

--- e b bortz

earth note 728

barelas, albuquerque

a battery powered wheelchair

down the middle of the street

at six forty-five in the morning

the dark finally collapsing

beneath a heavy coat

heading downtown

before the snow

climbs over the mountain

rolling in like loose sagebrush

     alone

--- e b bortz

huevos rancheros in the rail yards

barelas, albuquerque

photos by

Sandra L Hazley

the mural holds back nothing

broken windows face the tracks

our big decision today

was how to get to the peace rally on time

which we did

the passing traffic was curious

and mostly supportive

the green and red chilies

finally got everyone's attention

we live in a firestorm

sheet metal buildings speak through morse code

no one understands the syntax

--- e b bortz

earth note 727

a high desert drifter caught in the lens

might be a mirror through your cornea

there's always another line of sight

if you keep an open mind

dust covers everything by sepia

coyotes gather     speak out like a nervous crowd

like dogs barking before sunrise

the river tries keeping up in a headwind

--- e b bortz

earth note 726

albuquerque

the rio grande is hanging on

to its small pools of baby tears

when the road outta here

is too dry to make you weep

you can train your eyes toward california

& the glitz of every rose bowl stealth beach town

where you lose yourself to the freeways

you might as well shed new mexico cold

for the new concrete

not so much a shelter but a tomb

i've already forgotten what it means

or how to walk that straight walk

sometimes the feet find their own way

shake you out of your boots to barefoot

there are things i need to relearn

     now

there are only so many sunsets

to imagine      so i continue to imagine

consider this something of an apology

certainly not an atonement

the land will eventually make you cry

& then lead you home

--- e b bortz

not every trail leads to a petroglyph

even though the parking lot

is full of false expectations

only the ancients with sacred hands

speak with the mountains

volcanic rock sorting out the living from the past

the grasses turn yellow

and then move on

--- e b bortz