I.
One stroke of pastel
Numbing heartbeats
The bees came in great numbers
Bearing pastels in their stings.
The numbness overwhelms...
The bees don’t judge, only sting.
Probably they too love me.
I could discern in their drones
The sound of breaking glass.
II.
The hubbub spoke of sirens
And of Althusserian strangers
One danced the hula
Another stood on tiptoe on the ledge
And a third flew away with the bees.
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3 comments:
... blood contradicts everything but red.
and i wish your attempt doesn't fly away with the bees and be on ur blog and my mind!
i like the stranger who flew away with the bees =)
@ wolfie mozart...
possibly me too.... as he never returned....
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