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