Andrew Stone

When I am a bee
I have fun, I know
I am dying, but
It’s hard to know
What that really means
Stuck in a pipe which is
Red on the outside, no light inside
Several trees fall onto
An equal amount of cars
And the woodworker is thrilled
It is hard when your job
Requires you to integrate others
Into a society you fundamentally
Disagree with, every victory
Is a little death, or like
Watching a branch dry up and
Fall apart simply because you
Selected the correct choice out of four or five
There are so many bees trying to
Get out of the pipes, a shit ton
And the pets are freaking out
I guess this is a lie
My dreams lead me to believe
I have hidden knowledge or
That I’ll soon learn
Something that is right now hidden
Or doesn’t exist, probably
This feeling I’m meant to look at
Angles of rooftops outside recall
The religious, and I’m here, high
Off the ground at work doing nothing
In a brightly lit room, someday
I’ll come back to correct myself
Because I don’t know how to finish
What could just as easily continue
Do I need to? In the most basic
Sense, yes, because I will, it’s
Hot in this room