Type A Honey
(1999)
I am living in a bee’s cave without
work,
The hive is a productive one.
Perhaps I should provide a chronicle
of the hives events,
The other bees don’t seem to mind,
That I do not make honey.
Sometimes I feel as though I am
living in slow motion,
Or rather that I stop and start
so many times.
I cannot dance as fast as drones,
Their dance is complex and symbolic,
In slow motion you can see this
even more clearly.
It seems like a lot of work,
In order to make honey.
I leave the cave–surprised to see,
The meadow is still flowering,
The world is wide without the walls–yet
not as intricate.
The beekeeper wears his suit,
I give him my diary and he asks
for honey.
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