Artifice
"Theres no art to find the minds construction in the face."
Macbeth 1.4.13-14
Its not that crows
and orioles might take us
all; not that they will
set upon us in terrible clouds,
ripping into our carpentry
until brood and queen lay ruined
all because the drones
who guard our hive are stingless.
Its not that Im quick
to throw off the last of my time
when still some gathering is left
for me. Its not any of that.
The drones way does not fail
so that I must lift myself
yellow-masked into his life,
leaving others to live my own.
Neither deception nor insight,
there is only this:
under the sky and its fever
(and what is there but sky
and fever for these few
busy weeks) everything is
a task necessary and needed:
cells to clean, comb to build
the dead to be removed.
As ever, there is just
what must be done.
If the world were only flowers
but of course not. So, if
the drones mild face is
too easily read
how it invites a beak
closer, to nip short
his unthreatening watch
there can be a moment or two
made for painting myself
what I am not: defenseless,
unready. There is a little time,
a place in the sky
giving myself to this.












Comments
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"How wonderful that we have met with a paradox. Now we have some hope of making progress."
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"Every great and deep difficulty bears in itself its own solution. It forces us to change our thinking in order to find it."
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-Niels Bohr.
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"...A frenzied passion for art is a canker that devours everything else..." -Charles Baudelaire
--
First snow, then silence.
This thousand-dollar screen dies
So beautifully.
`N
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i'm a million different people from one day to the next.
but of course not."
strangely tragic.
--
THIS IS THE GATE OF HEAVEN. ENTER YE ALL BY THIS DOOR. (This door is kept locked because of the draught - please use side door.)
(Oh, and I'll have you know that I'm absolutely terrified by bees or the thought of bees, but was intrigued by this trip inside their psyche.) It brought me precariously close to tears.
--
But now I get it.
...and nature's a bit scarier to me now.
--
Bursting out from the ashes, with wings of flames that fly
I am called the Phoenix...A mythical bird that flies
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