i dreamed i saw allen ginsberg

in the body of christ

with the blood of christ

sangre de christo

the sand suspending deep into his beard

the southwesterly mexico winds

covering his thick black-rimmed

columbia university eyeglasses

the riverbed running and reaching up to save him

from the virus

from the cruelty

from the silence

only the original people

know these mountains

don't be embarrassed

if you need a guide

the snows have lost their staying power

every crevice takes on a new identity

there are dark sanctuaries

to sing your poems

there are new muses lost and searching

even the word muse may escape

through the void

this is not the lower east side

or golden gate park

to ascend you'll need strong boots and coveralls

steady your hands on the wall of the canyon

this land transitions without notice

when the river flows

     take your turn to drink

--- e b bortz

recovering notes from the deep, part 22

from fifteen on

i went pretty deep into

the catcher in the rye phase

and never really came out of it

that kind of adolescence

that always seems naively innocent

and rebellious

all at the same time

of course it's never a path

that's consciously chosen

you try to be as honest

as the world will let you

but this is where i ended up i think

never looking long range

always looking for the unsaid phrase

mostly undefined emotions that bring a tear

when you leave home young (with youngins)

and then everyone grows up

and you return alone

from what seems like a lifetime later

imagination knows how to trick you

for the years gone when only

a nose to the grindstone

could fill empty pockets

when every road and mirage

leads to a parched underbelly

you thought you could always whimsically rely

on falling back and finding your bearings

growing up absurd

should have been a prerequisite

you know the fields should have been sowed

in sunflowers

--- e b bortz

earth note 751

the air has enough sweat

to form puddles before

it hits the ground

on the green side of the avenue

rubbish has thrown itself

at a catch-all against the hillside

from the cardinal's perch

a song is just a song

nothing has changed since the big bang

when the wind is just right

a river can flow upstream

twist in a whitecap

there are clouds that promise rain

but then there are those

who think they know the future

--- e b bortz

highway one blues, part two

the last hurricane

blew holes in every building

still standing

a cluster here & there

people lining up for a thrift store

that used to be

the wind ripped thru

and uprooted mangrove

like a barbed wire fence line

key deer are still in hiding

seeking out fresh water

from mosquito puddles

when the plague hit

the highway closed

then anxiously reopened too soon

the water's getting too warm to snorkel

i'll check the navigational maps

next time i get to the library

     if it ever opens

--- e b bortz

highway one blues

i wore out the bottom

of my sneakers more than once

before coral rock got into my veins

it's free but you'll still have to pay a price

'cause the sunrise will fool you

into thinking you've reached

the end of the ocean

when in fact maybe you've only reached

the end of time

there's a section of side road

on big pine key that turns to hard rock

can rattle a bicycle frame & your bones

you stop when you've reached the water

the gulf side gets buggy

even in the middle of the afternoon

mangrove has long arms

reaches out

& grabs you like a primeval forest

the bridge to no-name key

can be windy

the pelicans ride it out

between dives

a wing is freedom

you're not sure how

you relate to this world

there's always the road

and the iguanas

but please don't call them invaders

turkey vultures gather

for a morning ritual

the dead have nowhere else to go

back on the highway

the sun at high noon

burns through your hat

--- e b bortz

earth note 750

riverview park

i finally found

the hidden switchback

only the deer know

you can tell how the ground cover stops

hoof width in the middle

of oak and maple

snaking around

steep shoulders

when their time arrives

trees fall and become one

with the earth

their bodies

like grace

their songs

like wind

--- e b bortz

earth note 749

eight days 90+ pittsburgh

when the heat finally broke

a non-contiguous set of city steps

started steaming

alone in the rain

the river looking to join in

trying desperately to pick itself up

& move on downstream

away from the quarantine

the gray flow

of the traffic

--- e b bortz

execution death chamber coronavirus safety checklist

all you witnesses

that wanna verify 100%

     death

better not try sneaking in

if your temp is above 100.4 degrees (F...you)

and put on a clean face mask

like you're going to church

scrub your hands

like you're degreasing an engine block

but try & leave your fingerprints intact

for future referencing

there will be gasps and screams

but it probably won't interrupt

the blank stares

of vengeance

--- e b bortz

reckoning has no middle road

even with all the checkpoints

and pattern recognition video gadgetry

heat rises from the earth

like an ocean swell

     entropy has become a social term

there's a new wildfire just beyond

     the beyond

the gas stations are shutting down

in time for the opening of the stock market

i'm leaving out all the proper nouns and trademarks

     apply them as you wish

the ground is smoldering in depleted fireworks

it will end suddenly

     as it began

--- e b bortz

two times three-dog-night

at twenty-two

i was the old man of the crew

spiking hammers singing thru the air

steel rails ring

nipping nudging them over for the embankment

a perfect curve

can be a beautiful thing

when building a railroad siding

like singing

joy to the world

along with a half-dozen mangy heads

hair wrapped in ponytails

sweat like greasy bare muscle

from kentucky through west virginia

every hollow with an echo

rivers of steam & haze

'til night falls

and the music rises

--- e b bortz

earth note 748

when the high grass sways

shadows roll out

like an incoming tide

what's connected is momentary

bound by no stagecraft

never repeatable

i look for landmarks

on the old barn road in the park

the last of the hemlocks

look for sanctuary

a dog barks toward the moon

rising and fading into the blue

--- e b bortz

earth note 747

i admit that i've used

the forest and every offshoot

parasite or not

as a means of escape

river current staggers home

after years of wandering

like a promise

finally kept

relevance may be an outlier

even if it begins and ends in plain sight

eventually everyone needs to learn

how to dig with their hands and feet

i hide on the north side of the house

the dark side of the valley

but this is not abandonment

--- e b bortz

earth note 746

after a warm morning rain

you know it'll be getting hot

like steam off the pavement

& a chorus of songbirds & others

     non-speakers too

staking out their sanctuary inside the canopy

there's no need to make up

more scenarios

everything will transition when it's time

a pair of cardinals

cooing mourning doves

blue jays in full voice

yellow finches

skittish sparrows

crows will gather later in the day

& two hawks usually return

by late afternoon

by tomorrow

the north pole will be at its maximum tilt

toward the sun

--- e b bortz

before we lose it all

i wanna reread

camus the first man

and neal cassady the first third

there's a way someone else's life

can pry you open to the day's first light

even when all else is forcing the great darkness

the back alleys of denver are not so far

from the ocean walls in algeria

the grind of desperation shoes

stepping beneath billboard shadows

always walking always talking incessantly

words against hopelessness

like it's all we have

there are deserts that bloom

through nightmares

see them

for the beauty

of what they are

--- e b bortz

blending in

toledo 1955

on moore street

a cluster of jews

against the current

in a river of catholics

mainly polish

and a few southern anglos

like the cowboys next door

     my best friend buster

and his older brother

with a black '48 mercury

bubble-skirts and glass packs

and slick-back hair

the roar up and down the street

turning your head

but never bringing complaints

     but then

what does a 7-year-old know

when hopelessly tasting his own blood

in a back-alley boxing match

the family with lots of kids

     and crucifixes

my cheering section

--- e b bortz

strawberry moon

photo by Sandra L Hazley

in every halo

there's a contrast

a dissonance long after

an afterglow

root to leaf

light to life

all visions

transitory

--- e b bortz

earth note 745

you need more than a concrete hand

to hold the banks

of a great river steady

in a downpour

the forest once reached the river flow

drank the language and wisdom

of algonquin nations

building articles of consensus

growing maize

honoring ancestors

as there are many

yet to be sung

--- e b bortz

yes the anger is justified

as are the tears

and the love

every hand is a heartbeat

rising from the street

even with fear

a million shoulders will bear witness

--- e b bortz

if i was paranoid it would be time to speak and write in code

something really obscure

or maybe just straight up

like notes from the gallows

     or svoboda

there aren't many escapes

from the blue     brown shirt     camouflage uniforms

& their assault weapons

piling up in gun stores

movie theaters

football stadiums

new legions of national guard inductees

you may have seen all of this before

deep breathing can help

whisper with every chance you get

check in on your neighbors

--- e b bortz