font

is like a passport

a means of going

and returning

sometimes it's a seamless transition

often it falls far short

fools you into believing

you have more to say

than what meets the eye

an eye for an i 

is not an eye opener

just an extension

of ego

--- e b bortz

earth note 758

the road dust of socorro county new mexico

has a grainy brown red hue to it

it'll layer your lips even

leave you unable to whistle

unlike the songbirds and pinyon pine 

pushing out against the wind 

the dust leaving a chalky aftertaste

even long after the white sands missile range road

goes quiet

--- e b bortz  

another september eleventh goes by

without acknowledging the open hand

turning backs are like shutting doors

sinking life rafts sending up flares

how can any of this be rational

every scream is indelible

marking every human survivor

what is not burning at this moment

is getting ready

there is always another way

a million footsteps

didn't just spring up out of nowhere

you can't plow fields with bayonets

     or drones

that outstretched arm

is our lifeline

--- e b bortz

earth note 757

to shelter in place

is that all we have left

at least here

in the alleghenies

where the last

of the green maples

are the shelter

from california to kansas

the forests are burning

thru the ambivalence

maybe that's not the right word

the lock on the mind

now free

waiting for a helicopter rescue

it was just a couple years ago

that we camped in the big pines

outside of durango

the gravel road leading in

was usually quiet

i wonder how it is today

do we run or shelter in place

cell towers to fracking pads

to manicured lawns

to window rocks

     a sunrise stolen

--- e b bortz

what if sisyphus had accomplices

would we still be where we're at

or would we have built

an equilateral rock garden by now

free and open on all sides

or would we have been stoned

by the authorities

reloading and riding their catapults

mandated by the imperial senate

no one can rewrite history

nor even fantasy

without understanding context

the stones you carry

may not be your own

nonetheless

there should be no stigma

in sharing the burden

--- e b bortz

earth note 756

white pines

waving

twenty feet up

by twenty feet wide

like a carpet spreading

needles long and lush

rolling with the wind

the heat has finally moved on

giving the young cardinals a reprieve

and what you might expect

as an end-of-summer quiet

is now a perfect song

--- e b bortz

earth note 755

surat thani province thailand 1989

an ocean spray

on an open deck

i feel each drop

run down my face

two european women

throw their heads back

speaking fluent thai

laughing      animated

bicycle at rest

coming in from miles of smoky hills

equator sun bouncing wet

like the waves

na thon port koh samui

loud & packed

tuk-tuks shove

i head for the island ring road

--- e b bortz

are they coming for us

or do they just wanna put faces

to those they consider the enemy

is there a new fashion trend

or is it just the fascism

of square shoulders and brown shirts

i keep looking for the common denominator

and all i've come up with is just a facsimile

of a hammer and virus rolled into

a labor participation rate

they want to club you with

i know i'm asking for it

but here's my simplistic answer

to all of the ideologues

dead & alive

just mix one part from each

& stir thoroughly

trump-putin-roy cohn-stalin-mao-andrew jackson-jefferson davis

might as well throw in lukashenko

all built on the foundations of franco-hitler-mussolini

don't worry about chronological order

in this new world disorder

and of course

add your many thousands

     their knees and heels

     on your neck

--- e b bortz

before the hurricane

blew it to bits

the island counter top

in the kitchen

let the poems & ants

mingle like a quiet

off-season mosquito coast

no parallels with hemingway

or humphrey bogart key largo

storms and words come & go

it's hard to find a beginning

if you dwell in the endings

plywood is at a premium

as the winds pick up from the south

every body of sweat like the surf

brings you to another precipice

before you drip in unison with the marsh

mangroves bend

trying to hold the roots

like anchors

vultures & turkey vultures

hide until it all blows over

iguana highway     the last resting place

for the stragglers

dead or alive

--- e b bortz

steam escapes a bathroom window

at sunrise

reminiscent of

2 hots & a cot

a few doors down

from the salvation army store

key west

there's red paint

like blood

to prove you were there

the poets left phrases

they no longer wanted

some of them wandering off

to look for the old used bookstore

along truman avenue

everything has changed

and maybe

nothing has really changed

put a mask on

you need to dodge

the border patrol

and the virus

as it burns through

every charlatan

& magic potion

--- e b bortz

school of the americas watch

photos by Sandra L Hazley

november 2006

i've seen poets leave their words

tucked in a cyclone fence

surrounding fort benning georgia

just down the road

from the sniper school

the military police

surge up to the fence line one more time

their eyes looking through you

with an awkward determination

& cold sweat

across the street

there's a neon sign

advertising payday loans

& storage lockers

when your time comes

it's best to travel light

the prisons will once again fill

with hearts & minds

handmade wooden crosses

     remain

to speak the names of the innocent

--- e b bortz

earth note 754

a murder of crows

an early gathering

on patched asphalt

before the road heats up

fast food ain't what it used to be

scattering like a smorgasbord

looking like they're about to leave

most of it for the raccoons

they were saying something like

hold the mayo til the weather cools off

--- e b bortz

earth note 753

my trunk put me down on all-fours

like a boxer reaching an eight-count

i was never really prepared for this

a roundhouse outta nowhere

had me bowing to the green hills

like an atonement

a sight you can't describe

but need to

before they die

it's never too late for deference

once you've tasted

raw earth

--- e b bortz

only a poem can close its eyes

and hit a concrete wall on purpose

call it a wake up or epiphany

if that fits

like i wanna spit

out a long shot

dream up the lines

back from irrelevance

raise the dead if necessary

take that proverbial sledgehammer

& smash the so-called writer's block

before it disappears on its own

(then you're really left with nothing)

let it go into a thousand pieces

without pagination

(no one laid down any rules here)

make it up as you go

--- e b bortz

earth note 752

a heat wave

can test the bounds

of your imagination

you look for an escape

as you swallow hard

on every thought

your skin speaks

a different language

as it turns to sandpaper

when the river finally appears

let it touch your feet

kiss the willows as they're drooping

like a lover

waiting for an answer

pace each step

as a fleeting moment

like a long walk home

--- e b bortz

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