Posts Tagged ‘ bee ’

Bees – MUTTS Daily Email

Source: MUTTS Daily Email

Tom Clark, July 7, 2016


A bee collects pollen from a sunflower in a field near Frankfurt an der Oder, eastern Germany: photo by AFP, 5 July 2016



Stephen Collis: from Redactical | Lemon Hound



Stuck again we came up with something else
Tried gluing the cardboard shards of boxes
To our heads and backs like
The defensive plates and spikes
Of dinosaurs we weren’t but were becoming

Or drove out west like a movie we remember
Where girls feet rest on the dash
Window prism light listening to electric chatter
And music seems part of the sunny world
That is escaping last air from a thought balloon

The gentle breeze backyard backdrop
Of evergreen trees allows a long strand
Of web the faintest visibility floating like
This will be the last word ever spoken
Or overheard no this will—Kalamazoo

But then the Internet didn’t care anymore
Though it went on recording every keystroke
And whoever we were outside of information
We stood together with our chemicals
And held death a little closer to our whispering lips

Now when we text it is barely the memory of bird song
There might be some data or DNA left somewhere
But with no readers who cares what bugs
Are expressing remnants of after images and holes
The whistle’s blown and we are unplugged for good


All spaces branded all space is branded
Each gene known catalogued but totality’s
Unknown totalities unknown plural
Loops and overlaps and the spontaneous
Production of nearly identical individuals

Then is vichyssoise alive as edible coding?
First they brand us radicals
Then they eliminate the concept of the radical
Lift this information through your chemical soup
Loops and spirals and poetic gyres abound

But—gimme shelter—lost lips spell no flies
Shuttling chemical structure to hump new
Chemical structures out of perpetual primal soup
We want to be swallowed by this language
No this language—nucleocytoplasmic shuttling

Oft in dire like this weather this redactical
Sun branch sun cloud reflects sun
Methane bomb shelter gimme time went as we
Species twiddled and sang to lamp light and
Located our deep viral past on a map (you are here *)

Realize we can’t keep saying we but muttering
Totalities script bioinformation in scriptorium
Cells copying thus where diversity lies origin lies
But what’s the frequency, Kenneth Rexroth
And what follows or fallows these fleet fields?


And then we extend the climate of our unknowing
Despite false colour views and massive stacks of data
The moment wasn’t about the symbolic after all
The moment followed a bee
Through the streets of Manhattan

The earth spinning hot on its axis
Was—or wasn’t—more like a tree falling in a forest
Than it was like an instrument measuring CO2
On a mountain in Hawaii—but if a tree falls in a forest
And everyone is already in that tree

Having climbed there to get above rising waters
Does it make any sound? Or is that
Just the noise our limbs make wind-milling in space
As we launch—indexical of our own distraction—
Off the ends of our two hundred year old hockey sticks?

But tell me, Cecilia Vicuña, if you can
Is that bee the last fluttering bastion
Of a cognition that we have undone in our doings?
Or will the herd of boreal caribou coming behind us
Sweep us around Columbus Circle one too many times?


I know, it’s hard to stop coming to America—
The waiting room is the size of the world
Has a sign that says, “Welcome to the Anthropocene”
And all the exits are jails furnished with

Unassembled Ikea furniture with nary an Allen Key in sight.


Stephen Collis: from Redactical | Lemon Hound.

robobees | Harvard University



Notes From the Edge of the Field, by C. Mehrhoff

Notes From the Edge of the Field


How swiftly creation designs to meet the senses.   The opening,

ever capable of the task, through which it all pours.  The opening,

The Presence.  Being.  Itself.


The echo of life across the millennia.  The footprint of evolution.

The moment.


A hand reaching for a hand.  Or the shape of a hand.

Fingerprints upon water.  Engraved.


The sun goes down, planet upon planet.


Thistles explode with light,



What the bee carries.  Itself.


The grass swaying, cradle to shadows.  Mine.  Yours.  Even the self.

The Great Self.


The grass swaying, cradle to shadows.  Shadow of the seed,

the blink of an eye.  Shadow of the sower,



And clouds?




C. Mehrhoff

bee still
on a dandelion
October sun

Donna Fleischer

Paris fast becoming queen bee of the urban apiary world / BBC News

BBC News – Paris fast becoming queen bee of the urban apiary world.

work break –
honey bee & i love
an apple
to its core

Donna Fleischer

From the Next Room

Sometimes I am in
another room of my self.
Closing a door
behind me,
Bending toward
the window light
the breathing of
big and little beings
sound their quiet gong before me

To them I bring
this throated gourd of language
offered to a wren’s nest
there, stitched into a tree

to an old woman’s forehead
tipped towards the ground
to a sudden skittering
of leaves
where there were none

to the weightless amber body
of a worker bee pinned in
the corner of this window screen
by dust, and
nudged by the plain

omniscient air, which
by itself
can make the mind wander
to your own weightlessness
to your pinned in native tongue
to your own eye
and the door knob at the center

My hand is on the door knob
It is not easy to make the turn
for both am I here and am I going
following the quiet bells of being
singing of almost anything at all

Donna Fleischer
Intimate Boundaries 1991

Hokku Inn / New Hokku & Contemplative Verse Workshop Site

Hokku Inn

Today I participated in a new hokku workshop site, Hokku Inn, shared below to give an idea of how hokku breathes in a state of artlessness. — Donna Fleischer

From original poem on the left to the finished poem on the right —

bee asleep                                                                                             October cold;
on a dandelion                                                                                    The bee on the dandelion
October cold                                                                                         Does not move.

Donna Fleischer

Hokku Inn post explains the transformation of this haiku to a hokku.

work break ~

a honey bee and I

love an apple

to its core

~ Donna Fleischer