Chad Sweeney


The bees are dying toward Beverly Hills

The bees are dying into the sun


At midnight it is day the bees

In Santa Monica our oranges


Fall sideways toward no beginning the

Bees are dying America in the teeth


By waxlight our bees brim up

From no well they have


Left their reflections on the ice

Of eternity the bees are dying in our


Talk of beginning this young country

Their hives follow the names down


On Alvarado by the light of swans

We go crossing our sunglasses into oblivion


The hands of the Indians are buried

Everywhere nothing grows the feet of the Tongva


Are gathering in white shadows we

Forget them the shadows convulse


We announce ourselves upward into teeth

A cowboy hat without its body the bees


On Sepulveda a wheelchair and silence

In our mouths the sea forgets


We wake our way down the processes

Blooming everywhere the actions of our hands