autos? bees?

wide eyes that stare
from beneath little black hoods,
tied by yellow waist bands.
they buzz around the city,
like a swarm?

the garden..

..as she calls it.

somedays when i look back at the five years spent in school, i feel, the institute did/does not like me.

in a crematorium,
pyre burning below.
body disintegrates, burns,
turns to ash and smoke.
there is a peculiar smell.
it rises from what was once alive, escapes through the roof.
it deposits soot on the corrugated undersides.

the crematorium roof is a map of the human body?





i'll make a drawing.