Of Bees

Bees have a Commonwealth and regiment.

They go about in Spring, as Beanes bloume.


How cleane their hives, no trumperie or gubbins.

All filth is foot-balled smartlie out.


They take joye in the clapping of hands,

the brute call of brasen bassoons.


Their young, a knit-work of severall flowres,

their sinews petals, handsomely composed.


Concerning honie, and its origin: a skie-sweat,

a glutinous gellie, proceeding from starres.


This substance, the aires liquor, Bees gather.

With rainbows comes a drisling dew of honie,


as lovers prove, their kisses glewie-sweet.


A.B. Jackson



In the lemon

we find a fire

that cools, coos.

Mathematically succinct

it is a flame

which unlike most

can be cut in half

or thirds if you prefer.

In the skin

of its lantern

light implodes,

slowing to the speed

of mere human endevour

before giving itself

into a last sudden burst

like eyesight

to the blindness

of the mouth.


Elaine Equi