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...and they lived happily ever after. Smith & Lady: poets, artists, photographers & adventurers.
Our relationship was forged to the soundtrack of Yoko Ono's magic,
frenetic, love-laden song, "Walking On Thin Ice." ( play song )

call me Venom, call me Cassandra


Summer Cleveland

Humidity slow, steady,
heavy with heat,
flesh gravity’s tired bone.

– Smith, 7.19.2015

Call me Venom.

I proposes, God disposes . . . into the laughter machine.

The previous beehive inspection I wore protective netting for the first time because I was tired of getting stung and having right hand left hand right thumb right bicep turning red getting hot swelling up itching into madness.

But I didn’t tuck my shirt in and a sneaky bee crawled up and bit my belly. Then I must have given one a ride into the house on my jeans because an hour later one bit my belly two inches from the first sting while I was sitting around talking. That’s one way to liven up one’s conversation.

Sooooo, this time I tucked my jeans into my socks and my shirt into my pants and said the only way they can sting me now is where my ear touches the hat net or thru my shirt. Call me Cassandra.

It was a near 90 degree day, the protective gear is made of canvas, sweat swept down my face neck torso wetting shirt to flesh and a bee stung my belly through the cotton.

That makes one unstung inspection last seven tries.

Next time I billow my shirt out after tucking in so they can’t touch flesh.

This makes me grin, it’s sort of an on-running serial joke between me and Reality with Reality ahead 6 to 1 so far, but next time I’m betting on the Smith.

It is special the taste of honey freshly harvested from your first hive, way well worth the sweat and venom and itch.

(the fotos are neighboring bumblebees, not our honey bees).


One Response to “call me Venom, call me Cassandra”

  1. chris says:

    like.. photo and poem thank you sir.

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