Funghus

Funghus grows
the fear to fail

your tail they say is
square between your knees

which knock a beat too beautiful still
for a hollow hearted coward

the perfect bell

they hear the beat all around
it guilds them in rhythm divine

even as it shakes up yellow’s pine
unto the neck, bird like thin

to mushroom brain, poison
shooting like neurons into thoughts

of falling, of smalling,
of boring whole crowds

of wearing frowns like death shrouds
imagining funeral drums before you’ve died

of silencing whole tables,
of ruining love’s sacrament- a wedding.

Of ever knowing nothing,
Of growing not at all,

Of reversing a river by repulsion,
Of selfishly sucking whole oceans,

oh funghus growing
fear me yet

look at these feats my fear imagines
and know the glory of this mind

creating worlds next to worlds
and nightmares next to life

a shaper of dark things,
a weight on the sun to encourage the moon

am i. am i.

this music you make with a body
it’s mine!

Hear! You crowds, awake to my sound
It’s fear, yes, it’s funghus.

But it’s alive. And it’s growing.
Showing.
Glowing.

In you.