on bees

They have little baskets behind their leg joints which hold pollen. They flit from the flowers and back to the hive where workers help them unload. If we were to live only on royal jelly, our lifespan would increase fifteenfold. Royal jelly is the food of the ultimos, the utmost. If we could only find out in the hearts where to live & how.

http://www.fao.org/docrep/w0076e/w0076e16.htm

but we are not queens, not a one of us.

on spiders, and the music of

One hundred years later. The spiders work quickly, the sound unparalleled. The ship ship slides of clawed paws on old wood floors, meanwhile. The song sound, the worthy companion & her shuffle. The spider's silent webbuilding. Across the drawing, through the air connecting candles. Down in extension of my hair. In my ear marrying music to brain. My own fur & spines distracting, my little copper spikes trailing, & I see them each as little faults mine only. I look for you all the time, o recognisers!

on ants

what was that song, unpretty, oh just as I there runs an ant up me, and the ants at the teahouse run & run interminably whilst the vibraphones tangle on, and their heads are bowed, the folks, unbeknownst to whom the ants run wild, as they trod in white refinement, sucking it up into their undoubtably porous little bodies. Their bodies actual, I find them now. the greedy metasomas sponging the sugar, making them everfast & radiant.