“Honeysuckle. So named because of the old
but entirely erroneous idea that bees extracted
honey therefrom. The honeysuckle is useless to
the bee.”
What, then, is useful to the bee?
My world, penned in
by human pride
Allows me to see as I see
Through the two eyes on either side
Of one nose – unlike the bee
Who sports two eyes for domestic tasks
And three ocelli
To make impressionistic tracks
Among the flowering vegetation –
What can I know
About such kinds of navigation
About what it’s like to go
About, laughing up your sleeve
At the honeysuckle’s vain imposture?
I don’t even bring in the sheeves.
I lay on my sheets as useless as an oyster.
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