I put myself down
on my back
when I track my movements
and wonder if they add up
To a bumblebee dance
that might take this
hive into trance
and balance the combs
With the knowns
that must deliver us
to a safer place
before I die of winter
The cold is going,
coming to take
me either way, whether
the weather's causes
Break my jawses
or my leases on the
lawses become warm
legislative honey
I won't change the
live mind - - - if I
try I will die trying
and if I don't
I will high highing
until anticipated clouds
Icarus me, while I
must rather stay
On the ground
under this log
whose grog I drank
to dank my wings
I want to live
without life's knife
but as I am being
there's a knife
Sticking
out of
my
back
Roman Ryan 