GrimFungus
here, where no one walks and
an osage ochard glooms the light
i cannot begin to imagine what
this clumpy lump could be
i bend and in bending smell
this thing that breathes
in and out in and out
a mushrom that’s become my kin
3 thoughts on "GrimFungus"
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Oh I like this! I used to practice throwing with the fallen hedgeapples on my grandfather’s farm. Your poem reminds me of being alone with the outdoors. Me and those hedgeapples were like sisters!
A tribute to e. e. cummings? Lyrical in an interesting way. I love this:
i cannot begin to imagine what
this clumpy lump could be
A nice acknowledgement of a fellow Oxygen user