Y

Insect people 

in insect world.

Looking for the queen bee

to rule for. Dying world 

in a dying land.

The world leans 

on the children 

of the mustard seeds buried deep.

We are splinters of the code.

Of a world, and a creature making 

mends by ancient strings of heart

bending.

 

The system of honey

from trees that was invented by

the leaves. Light can gather

in one strike. In this X!

 

Still we are more or less like bugs

Running around in this,

hungry world, looking

for the same things

only to come

out more

empty?

 

The bee is dying,

in your invention of wasp. The hornet 

ugly and crass. 

...and invent a new way to pollute

with hornet's mast.

 

The village idiots are out 

to play king for a day.

The towers are silver and 

-like high noon, or the spoon?

 

I'll watch another man 

take his bride. And run....

into the X axis of all the mole Mondays.

Y would you?

Jesus on a cross in his heart

I'll dart. Across the night, in his watch.

I'll be, as the night.

 

The land is simple and pleasant.

I'll sit up if the sand in the hour glass

runs.

 

Y can't you find me.

Here. My dear, darkness

is sinking still. The snow

is black and my eyes

of black I cannot 

see, reality.

In this figure of light.