The Teller of Bees

who wants to be the teller of bees?

go to our soul’s house

knock the hive with the keys?

birth– wedding– death– weather–

there is a heatwave in the bay area, 

and I want to name it...

steamy fog this weekend. 

a derecho left its wake in the midwest.

they named the dream chaser tenacity

for space flights of fancy.

postponed the wedding

she keeps bees, blue moon bees.

the virus and riots, the virus and riots

and beg for a miracle intercession.

a triple comet flew past the sun

and I touched evolution,                                    

the thin line at hell creek,

a seam of clay enriched in iridium, 

fingers trace the boundary layer. 

disruption– change– long periods of stasis– 

meandering change and directional walks,

bare feet grounded, feedback, feedforward.

stick to the same flower using dance as a language,

a figure-eight zig bee waggle moved by chance   

tremble and groom patterns of dynamic stability.

under the constellations speak of life’s tenacity! 

space by itself, time by itself, 

doomed to fade away into mere shadows,

only a union of the two preserves an independent reality;

spacetime. Quantum dimensions flow across time

to 2020, a year with 13 moons.

heavenly honey on tap, one thousand stars in cancer

cluster in the manger, a beehive in the carcass

swarms with honey in the perfected hexagon

of winter with the last bees.

two pillars rise from a lion to a woman, 

heading to the autumnal equinox.

harvest to October’s two blue moons of dread

boomerang jawbone seven locks seven rays. 

feet dusted in flower’s spices, stay home pretty bees, 

stay home man of the myth of the sixth day;

there is a long autumn... a long fall up ahead.

humming the secret of bees, visible ultraviolet,

move fast to stay still directing the sunbeams,                                                                                                                              

the teller of bees, come revery…