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Dearest Reader:

In an odd collision of coincidences, we present to you another poem about insects; this time bees. We would like to think of it as entailing more dramatic themes of cataclysm, global food shortages, and human smallness, but we don’t see what’s all the buzz, about a world without bees.

‘uzz, ‘uzz, ‘uzz.

–The Writers


Now you see bee; now you don’t.

“The World in Lipogram B”

Today I was told

by a man in neon

that at the present rate

of decline

there will be

no more bees

in nine years’ time.


The things that feed

on floral ornaments

Of organic lust,

ferry plumes of moldy

cotton to and

fro, through fields’ lush

Gone, like wind tainted


And drained—out from

crops sanitized with

chemical killers: DDT,

Propoxur, Chlorpyrifos

Named like Greek heroes

of the new empire of

Monsantos and DuPonts.


Flooding to sea and shore

For a ripe dozen yield more.


In Szechuan, said he,

For an apple less sweet

one gives sixty pence more

and how many years of undoing

For an apple less sweet?

And reft from soil

seeped with drug and dust


No, in nine years, see,

there will fly none of these

If present sight is sign of future cause

If Nancy at her grocer prefers red wine

To white. And I, in the name of

saving, save sixty pence on an apple

from sprayed down fields

O’er the insects’ plight.


And sit, to write


String plan to

daily plan–

aspire to minor successes–

While one hundred million

winged things, so quietly go

into an un-flowered night

Of Japanese autos, metal sheets,

clean-faces apples, and tanning cream

Of shea powder and their own wax.