Bees pull weeds out of their minds.
They stop at flowers or bushes,
with or without petals.
And saliva on the dog’s jowls
doesn’t contract or intefere. Business.
The cloud moving above provides a clue
to cracks in the earth.
Five bees and a doorbell.
One hundred and three degrees.
All of this
should touch their hearts.
The heartless fucking assholes.
To walk the challenge of logic.
Something stalks by and of course it is never easy
staring at immortality all day. Or junk.
To paint a bridge takes patience and a little whimsy.
The point on the map looms large like a walk
to Broken Bow.
Marked much too big for a town we couldn’t
even walk through. Leaves.
We noticed a fly rotate 360 degrees
15 degrees at a time at 2 second intervals
with its pupils locked in on the
veins of a leaf.
So many eyes, I have read.
Preferable to observe under a microscope
where the lens
ually reveals him walking through a map.