h o n e y b e e
1
Apex you'll come to one fine morning
set with that breakfast milk on the island steps
a full feast of fresh air under your belt
it's a small island, turtle in the channel
rare for the latitude, the islanders touchy
about a fragile domestic economy Two
of them bang away at an extension to the house
dreamed up last night and being paid for
in green dollars The friday night pizzas
are legendary if you know which boat to get
and there on the rockface is the aretalogers sign
sans me fatiguer ni de jour ni de nuit-
a little dairy factory by the name of Isis Lactans
pumping out soft cheeses of a truely divine nature
2
We could all go some more could go down
for it ourselves and come back on the Cream Run
one quay at a time, mangos bagels wisdom
from the markets where you lean on one elbow
after making love and begin to make
the universe dooby doux to a tune that suits
your ripening sense of history
Going out for the makings, staying in to eat
mouth to mouth, why was it lost most
when we needed that contagion in the telling?
There is still the special place on her head
where they touch her for more of the story
while back in bed a sleep of hands and hearts
is airing nectar in all the generous mouths
3
How beautiful in jandels o prince's daughter
the motive bones of your finely dusted feet
on the road to the cape and back
many summers past small clips of paradise
In the dark doorway the Fire Chief, a stir
of silver buttons and a ceremonial axe
as he walks into the picture again His are the gifts
you are learning to take from the ballerina plate
piled high between you in all of his houses
sometimes the regalia signifies, sometimes
it's just a couple of beers over lunch
watching your seventeen-year-old self descend
from the tree with the big nest of epiphytic lillies
to where he's waiting saying : Let's go, princess
4
To the north of paradise a high summer moon
at four in the morning and I call out
the song of your body in the light of what is
before me I know the precedents I'm looking for
the wise fire of intelligence in a body
that wants to metabolise lightning I want
to get to the vineyard the river the mountain
the city and the sea undivided by your attentions
then I want to hammer out gamos everywhere
among the beautiful appetising trees of those places
So I get up in the dark and you call Hey excelsa
your salty shoulder first, sweet nicotiana next
but most from the open window to this wide bed
white scent from the tree of flowers And sleep?
5
Schluck-schluck perfect mind at work
on perfect body at the confluence of two rivers
called Melilot and stamp What a day
it's been salmon in the daypack at four thousand feet
high dives and honeypots into those piscine deeps
and a sweet precision of vocables throughout -
We've got it all as the islanders say, the ins and outs
the ups and downs, the map of the world
on the bedroom floor lost fo so long, for so long
passed off as a hand to mouth myth among
painters who travelled the length of the country
to be close to its source Look, the confluence
of two rivers, the deep relief of the map traversed
hop skip jump and free fall into the art of love
6
Apices that melt you femina climbing
the steps temple days and others minding
children or hanging out the sheets How
transport is a word among vines -
excelsa and two young roe looking on
Carmel Who would not forget her clear voice
remaking paradox as the shadow - hunt closes in
on the fabulous slopes of ellipsis :
And I light hearers to you There she is
swallowed the sun and gives it back
each morning in the bright window she's there
on the tip of your tongue her bees working
the red flowers that take you from the vine to fire
as she contemplates another shift in the pronouns:
7
I am the boat of heaven rocking outside
the orbit of the moon and the orbit of the sun
I am the dancer on the plate the one in blue
with a honey stomach full of delectable lies
I am the diver and the baker rolling over
and over in the dry grass which is most like rain
I am the parabola, a crural bow strung
across the single point of my dripping ascent
I am the eater of trees, the drinker of sense
and my name is the crown of a blue eye rising
I learned to write these languages It is my kiss
on your mouth and there must be no fault
in the transmission I am before you, I look
after you, I am a slow boat rocking everything
