earth note 825

autumn slipped onto the high desert

     incognito

unlike the east

clusters of dry leaves

hear the call

& gather for rituals

mountain rain

to wash the aspens

--- e b bortz

earth note 824

the pueblo rise

in the body of the ponderosa

straight without faltering

the runners will make a trail

before the next sunrise

these are new times

taken from the old

the sky has opened

but it may not last

you've been given a turn at the water

speak of it as a prayer

and then pass it on

--- e b bortz 

earth note 823

slapping a notepad

into the palm of my hand

brings the dog running

his eyes saying what's up

got something to say

no just thinking what

the two austrian pines next door

growing up together

had in mind forming

a heart at their upper reaches

wondering what congress

has in mind scuttling the real news

forest fires not giving up

where there's smoke

there's chemical poison & cover-up

and the flooding is never over

except of course

where the water is needed

still remember what lake powell

looked like before the drought

the virus finds new accomplices

medical staff soldiers on to capacity

teachers teach on

the apocalypse list

grows in the dark

the dog kicks up dust

barking at the gecko

rain coming over the mountain

looks like a race to the rio

thousands of hands reach for the overpass

--- e b bortz

earth note 822

for every stone pony

there's a petrified stump

up against a cyclone fence

stamped out before

the humming birds

start hovering

vultures bringing home the leftovers

everywhere there's chaos

serving up the politicos

meat & potatoes

we've all seen this show before

i'll raise my pen

for the vanquished

in hopes that the forests

in tomorrow's millennia

will have a place

to leave their souls

--- e b bortz

earth note 821

i will bring my atonement

to the mountains

where it will never

be believed

the rock will never budge

the sun will beat

every new shadow

until i acknowledge it

there will be no witnesses

the wind will take my breath away

and i will wait for the winter rains

--- e b bortz

earth note 820

the rio grande bicycle trail

has a vanishing point

the river might be murky here

but eventually the sun will show you grace

never quite sure when everything will change

and the thistle will make you bleed

the city encroaches

the rims are cloudy & coughing

freeways snarl through

concrete makes a hard heart

rest assured the wild

will have its own designs

--- e b bortz

earth note 819

the hollow spoke

in a broken voice

where maples creak

& the ridge has shifted

summer ends

check your shoes

all you have left is one foot

in front of the other

     breathe

like the north wind

brings you home

--- e b bortz

smoke jumpers

1.

fighting off another wind shift

another fire line

     in blood

coughing thru

the mountains west

gray haze running

toward the abyss

geese heading south

     early

their wings

in rhythm

2.

at the fire watch look-out

there was a fading notepad

of greasy thumb prints

words ringing out

through an hourglass

like every lonely day

of heat and the sacred

water hauling from the creek

there were humming birds

in early morning light

and coyote howls

by night

3.

indelible branding left

on the ponderosa

the pinyon

and especially the aspen

a forest stripped back bare

a hundred years growth

     gone to carbon

just for the touch of a million dollar house

--- e b bortz

loaves & fishes

a coffeehouse in the 60s

hidden away on bellefonte street pittsburgh

the room overflowing without notice

guitars picking through every polemic

a (pawn) chess piece sliding across the floor

a meeting of antiwar artwork without deferments

scattering in the night like four corners (plus one)

     of a pentagon

soldiers hanging on by sheer conscience

all leaves canceled at midnight

this outreach project years in the making

had john the baptist written all over it

--- e b bortz

so many experts so little expertise

another very long night

without sleep

shoved under the carpet

hidden in the window

of real pain

from the brown middle east

to brown southeast asia

a death spiral is not

a stairway to heaven

the summer of love

a long forgotten trail

never taken

of course the hippies were right

but the experts bullied their way in

with defecate diplomas

and jumped to the head of the line

with the largest megaphone

selling their expertise like carny hucksters

the best and the brightest

is still a madison avenue

ny times book list ploy

dripping in sour milk & honey     cool-aid     a commodity trader's illusion

no antidote

for wildfires     hurricanes     pandemics

--- e b bortz

earth note 818

pine green

sky blue

unusual light easterly

the valley is still quiet

the mountains hide

from the burning west

there's at least one dog bark

dedicated to each passerby

the mountain cur-retriever-?

darts back & forth

nose up in the air

the husky out of range

dark clouds moving in

the cicadas aren't calming

losing all their limbs

in wild sex

you should only believe the rain

if you can feel it

--- e b bortz 

albuquerque-pittsburgh-blue moon segue

photo by Sandra L Hazley

shadows on the high desert

wrapped in nostalgia doo-wop

     yes

they were former oliver high school students

everyone wanted to know about

their fame and how they went far

from pittsburgh's northside

the blue moon is always full

and won't come back for a few years

the lanky guy with the big bass voice

reminds us that 

     love

can just rise suddenly

even at the corner candy store

leaving fog hanging over

the streetcar turn-a-round

distorting your view

of the next blue moon

with holy roads and alleys

before you

empty stoops

parched rivers and lakes

vanishing without a coda

--- e b bortz

stone & sand

scatter beyond

adobe walls

transcending the conquerors

a drumbeat stands alone

giving prayer a true meaning

flagstones offer crooked trails

off the mountain

but not without

official documents

& visas stamped in blood

past the checkpoints

where dying

becomes second nature

for a place in line

--- e b bortz

earth note 817

the soil burns like a crematoria

cracked earth open wounds

will need more than three wise men

there are no best and brightest

each of us must crawl and leave our skin

as a marker

--- e b bortz

the randomness in this grid eludes me

machines have intervened

steel pressed into form

the grid bears down

and leaves you

with empty chairs

your eye must suffice

--- e b bortz 

earth note 816

lost road to albuquerque

there's a deep blue

splashed against

the loneliest

     butte

a high desert altar

some scattered yucca     cactus     humans

left near the edge of a stone drop off

brown rock like skin

you look inward

--- e b bortz 

earth note 815

rio grande, albuquerque

the river is lazy right now

maybe the mourning doves & humming birds

will wake it up

from old town

there's a pueblo drum beat

perhaps that will wake us up

a park ranger rolls up

to the honor system

car parking cash box and finds it empty

i'm just one of many bicycles

listening for rain showers

rising with brown adobe daybreak

--- e b bortz 

earth note 814

a dry 98 degree f

on the missouri kansas line

teenagers hanging out

at the sub shop

looking for jobs

a john deere cap speaks faintly

over a full throated gun slinger

the land is not forgiving

like dried out fields in transition

turning over the loam again

is nothing but a gamble

like dusty trucks

waiting for an empty

car wash bay

--- e b bortz

earth note 813

sand dunes colorado

there's a mexico wind

to explain a beige sunrise

mountains crack to feed

a trickle of a riverbed

mule deer head upstream

looking to the shelter of the pines

dry lightning tries to wake the world

sangre de christo

--- e b bortz

orifice

as things get desperate

i'd be willing to pull a

     word

out of any orifice

i could lay my hands on

after all

my dad would say

he'd go as far as

joining the steamfitters

if that was the only union around

sometimes (maybe always)

you just have to

     improvise

scramble down the highway

til that

     word

hits you

     head on

the clouds are getting grayer

by the minute

pressure's building

there's a pile of boiler pipe

with nowhere to go

my dad would probably say

just keep looking

--- e b bortz

earth note 812

on the old barn road

you can count a hundred maples

looking for a second life

     regeneration

it can come in waves

almost migratory

even the stones pick up moss

deep into winter

i don't think my eyes are fooling me

i've seen the mountain grow

--- e b bortz

earth note 811

i found an oak leaf

to cover my hand and fingers

it felt like a long lost caress

almost fitting

from a body long forgotten

--- e b bortz

red-blue-red, part 5

if only a community of lungs

could work together

rise together

stop listening to father death

learn how to make good

even from the bad

knowing still

there's a blood promise

to be resolved

and sometimes

gasping for air

is all we have left

if you get there in time

smathers beach will look as blue

as any andaman dream

float instead of swim

let the tides hide

your true intentions

from the inside of a mango

the sun fades red

even at midnight

--- e b bortz

earth note 810

clouds have stretched from west to east

in a fire season of prevailing winds

a venture capitalist is looking out his window

& planning his next private space trip

smiles are going all around even as death valley

contributes to the burn

it's all a las vegas crap shoot

that the dinosaurs tripped over

--- e b bortz

earth note 809

the plains have a way of closing down your eyes

and placing them at the end of the earth

you're never sure how they get there

how or why it happens

dust comes & goes like a free appaloosa

a free soul without a trail to follow

you're still looking for a handful of black soil

it can take a lifetime

--- e b bortz 

earth note 808

photo by Sandra L Hazley

i'm gonna save a poem

     even in a dry spell

for goodwell oklahoma

the flatlanders were paying attention

& left in a hurry

left me to dig up the red clay

like the wind blows

the miles off your feet

& you look southwest

like it's your destiny

     

--- e b bortz 

earth note 807

there's still green luster

filling up the canopy

cool drizzle makes it to your ears

just before the blue jays wake you up

if the traffic means anything

you'd think the pandemic was over

the car washes have been busy

so have the undertakers

every drop of rain

rising from minnesota lakes & rivers

could renew us all

given half a chance

running out of time to choose between

poison of an oil pipeline

or the sanctuary

of the forest

--- e b bortz 

a & w took their crown

and thought they were building

     an empire

only to discover that

the pen is mightier than

     you know what

and that a footballer's foot

even on the pitch

is no guarantee

that you won't end up

in the null set

--- e b bortz 

earth note 806

if you can believe a dream

a rainforest has spread its roots and thundered in

from the west

landing east of youngstown

just down the road from

the old lordstown chevy plant

south of the swarming carp

at pymatuning

it swelled the river ohio

originally o-hi-yo

sending all the river otters

(and a few raccoons

digging through the recycled trash pickup)

on to higher ground

breaking the heat in the garb of the dalai lama

if memory serves me

he often says no task is too small or great

if it serves the greater good

so i'll take this blessing and pass it on

rainwater can be life

a rainforest can grow

if we bring our hands together

embrace it

defend it

remember those who walked before us

the ponytails at the lordstown plant

could shut everything down

when it was warranted

a robot has no heart and never sweats

     a rainforest

so don't minimize a dream or a ripple in the pond

every leaf is a biosphere

every raindrop

a path you never expected

--- e b bortz

dog days of june

the sky broke loose a couple months early

to let in a heat bubble

for a slow bake

refusing to peter out

even when dark falls

you watch your fluids shrink

before they reach the skin

down at the giant eagle

a few cars are leaving oil slicks

before & after the check-out lines

like a shooting & car jacking

that made the morning news

the pavement and even the grass

is too hot for the canines

the backyard squirrels aren't moving

the last finch i saw left two days ago

the two mourning doves have gone

their separate ways

there aren't many more ways

to say the word

ways

--- e b bortz