New Bees

Ass over teakettle tip tit for me
Throw that arrow up
up up in my wintry tree
in my hunter-wasp lyceum not for bees

I write as I smash with my metagnathous mouth!
I laugh and I be as one made in the south.

He has a crossbow and three Shakespeare and that
cant be all he wears, there must be a costume switch
Somewhere
while we’re here

in these chairs

There are little people that run the little dime store down town
I bought a dime novel
and a dime bag
some dim sum
and some lychee

with my finger
it’s stored away with bees

my stinger
and beak
don’t break when they seep.

I’m a wasp with chats.
Chats that don’t sleep.