bees weave
a fabric of wind around
the hills hoist
and through a rattling freight
bound to ecology
the same way bees
are bound to the economy
or a flock of pigeons
speck the sky
while the uneven yard
has the feeling
of being lived in
slices of pizza
in the grass a pair of volleys
a recycling bin
full of bottles
lying beside a circular
fire-pit of bricks
collapsed like the ruins
of the Chachapoyas
high up
in the cloud forests
in northern Peru – Kuélap
a de-centralised community
that traded with people
of the Amazon and coast
until the Inka then the Spanish
reduced their world
to an archaeological discovery
always in the name
of progression and religion
or profit and national interest
in the name of Sydney
or Sydenham of the ways in which
language can colonise place
a people turning desire
into the rattling
of that freight a booming A380
vibrating the grass
the land
where ideas expand
into floods endure fires
and the suburban rash
where i watch bees
take what they can
while still giving
weaving through another freight
a Virgin plane
and cars on the Princes
circling through the city
as bees around
the hills hoist or drones
over the Middle East
bound to the echo of history
this ability to think
and yet repeat