As long as we eat from this turbulent Earth
this will thrive as a swarm of blazing bees.
Yellow and fretful- the taint of Sapien
like oil dripping from our hoggish hands
to bind the lungs and suffocate our plans.
Our mellow honey is just locked away
beneath the buzzing and the wailing
of our poor, indignant, slavish herd.
For we are all cloaked in viscous gall-
a mob of plaited saints and sinners
all of us moaning in the ashen strife
to quash fervid Mara’s unending curse.
And even the great hunger of agency
will one day unhinge itself from the free.
And don’t you just know the way we all
with blood despise another case of man?
How we are all flushing drunks of hatred
hissing in our need to singe the lotuses,
truth mummified by sugar and by stamps.
