Sunday, October 7, 2012

Poesy 2



                                Blond Brain, White Tongue


From dirt and mold, tiny
Parasols, dunce caps, tuning forks
Brazen penises; on bark
Blond brain, white tongue.

Silently
Out of the dark mother
When the birds have gone
When leaves thin
And the grass rots yellow, coaxed
By chill drizzle
And gray broth of fog
They poke, proliferate.

I know their names from books
Am haunted by
Hairy Parchment
Worm Coral, Blue Legs, Jelly Tooth
Blushing Fiber Head.

If touched
They are dry, sticky, knobbed or velvety,
Smell of green corn, almond,
Bleed milk, ooze ink.

Know them well.
Eaten, some are peppery or acrid
Or have a wild earthy tang
Beloved of epicures;
Some infiltrate the brain
With jeweled insects, dancing hieroglyphs;
Others impose
Sweat, cramps, vomiting
Remission, death.

Anchored
In rich rot
Unpredictable, intricate and deadly
They are the mirror of my mind.
Through ghostly autumn treading
Spongy meadows
And wet woods I find
My moods, home

In Chanterelle, a fluted
Delicate orange vase
Smelling of apricot
In rosy
Stinkhorn tipped
With green slime
And against
Black spruce roots
Corpse-white, exquisite
Destroying Angel. 


   © 2012  Clifford Browder