Giant Fungus

Related poetry:

1. The Plot Against The Giant First Girl When this yokel comes maundering, Whetting his hacker, I shall run before him, Diffusing the civilest odors Out of geraniums and unsmelled flowers. It will check him. Second Girl I shall run before him, Arching cloths besprinkled with colors As small as fish-eggs. The threads Will abash him. Third Girl Oh, la…le pauvre! […]...
2. Where Giant Mushrooms Grow! In Nevada there is a field where giant mushrooms grow One mile high and two miles wide, they say on the show That’s where they test how to vaporize people and flesh By splitting and fusing atoms and start the world afresh. A new era, a new definition, with the nuclear shield Dawned with huge […]...
3. Giant Snail The rain has stopped. The waterfall will roar like that all Night. I have come out to take a walk and feed. My body foot, That is is wet and cold and covered with sharp gravel. It is White, the size of a dinner plate. I have set myself a goal, a Certain rock, but […]...
4. Another Reason Why I Don't Keep A Gun In The House The neighbors’ dog will not stop barking. He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark That he barks every time they leave the house. They must switch him on on their way out. The neighbors’ dog will not stop barking. I close all the windows in the house And put on a Beethoven symphony full […]...
5. The Dorchester Giant THERE was a giant in time of old, A mighty one was he; He had a wife, but she was a scold, So he kept her shut in his mammoth fold; And he had children three. It happened to be an election day, And the giants were choosing a king; The people were not democrats […]...
6. Giant Toad I am too big. Too big by far. Pity me. My eyes bulge and hurt. They are my one great beauty, even So. They see too much, above, below. And yet, there is not much To see. The rain has stopped. The mist is gathering on my skin In drops. The drops run down my […]...
7. Dream Song 135: I heard said 'Cats that walk by their wild lone&#039 I heard said ‘Cats that walk by their wild lone’ But Henry had need of friends. They disappeared Shall I follow my dream? Clothes disappeared in a backward sliding, zones Shot into view, pocked, exact & weird: Who is what he seem? I will tell you now a story about Speck: After other cuts, he […]...
8. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
9. Dire Cure “First, do no harm,” the Hippocratic Oath begins, but before she might enjoy Such balm, the docs had to harm her tumor. It was large, rare, and so anomalous In its behavior that at first they mis- Diagnosed it. “Your wife will die of it Within a year.” But in ten days or so I […]...
10. Bereavement in their death to feel Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs between For Stranger Strangers do not mourn There be Immortal friends Whom Death see first ’tis news of this That paralyze Ourselves Who, vital only to Our Thought Such Presence bear away In dying ’tis as […]...
11. Hypochondriac Maybe it’s Emphysema, a shiny black jewel of phlegm Humming like a clump of bees in my chest. Perhaps a tumor crawling in the crook of my armpit, A blood clot opening like a tiny red flower in my brain. Maybe it’s too early to show up on an X-ray, A kind of cancerous seed […]...
12. The End of the World Here, at the end of the world, The flowers bleed As if they were hearts, The hearts ooze a darkness Like india ink, & poets dip their pens in & they write. “Here, at the end of the world,” They write, Not knowing what it means. “Here, where the sky nurses on black milk, Where […]...
13. Secret Music I keep such music in my brain No din this side of death can quell; Glory exulting over pain, And beauty, garlanded in hell. My dreaming spirit will not heed The roar of guns that would destroy My life that on the gloom can read Proud-surging melodies of joy. To the world’s end I went, […]...
14. Cacoethes Scribendi If all the trees in all the woods were men; And each and every blade of grass a pen; If every leaf on every shrub and tree Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea Were changed to ink, and all earth’s living tribes Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, And for […]...
15. I Fellowed Sleep I fellowed sleep who kissed me in the brain, Let fall the tear of time; the sleeper’s eye, Shifting to light, turned on me like a moon. So, planning-heeled, I flew along my man And dropped on dreaming and the upward sky. I fled the earth and, naked, climbed the weather, Reaching a second ground […]...
16. My Book Before I drink myself to death, God, let me finish up my Book! At night, I fear, I fight for breath, And wake up whiter than a spook; And crawl off to a bistro near, And drink until my brain is clear. Rare Absinthe! Oh, it gives me strength To write and write; and so […]...
17. Meaning When I die, I will see the lining of the world. The other side, beyond bird, mountain, sunset. The true meaning, ready to be decoded. What never added up will add Up, What was incomprehensible will be comprehended. – And if there is no lining to the world? If a thrush on a branch is […]...
18. French Leave No servile little fear shall daunt my will This morning. I have courage steeled to say I will be lazy, conqueringly still, I will not lose the hours in toil this day. The roaring world without, careless of souls, Shall leave me to my placid dream of rest, My four walls shield me from its […]...
19. First Impressions: Budapest 1992 is many a love-struck couple kissing and hugging with passion by the Margit híd; Is a lone acquaintance of mine fighting solo against the world for 8.000 forint spending hours in a library, trying hard to keep dreaming; Is bereft single grannies in dilapidated post-communist apartment blocks; Is hawk eyed hollowed women, with palms upwards […]...
20. The Appology ‘Tis true I write and tell me by what Rule I am alone forbid to play the fool To follow through the Groves a wand’ring Muse And fain’d Idea’s for my pleasures chuse Why shou’d it in my Pen be held a fault Whilst Mira paints her face, to paint a thought Whilst Lamia to […]...
21. Moles Under the leaves, under The first loose Levels of earth They’re there quick As beetles, blind As bats, shy As hares but seen Less than these Traveling Among the pale girders Of appleroot, Rockshelf, nests Of insects and black Pastures of bulbs Peppery and packed full Of the sweetest food: Spring flowers. Field after field […]...
22. A Mystic As Soldier I lived my days apart, Dreaming fair songs for God; By the glory in my heart Covered and crowned and shod. Now God is in the strife, And I must seek Him there, Where death outnumbers life, And fury smites the air. I walk the secret way With anger in my brain. O music through […]...
23. The Night I Was Going To Die the night I was going to die I was sweating on the bed And I could hear the crickets And there was a cat fight outside And I could feel my soul dropping down through the Mattress And just before it hit the floor I jumped up I was almost too weak to walk But […]...
24. The Forerunners The harbingers are come. See, see their mark; White is their colour, and behold my head. But must they have my brain? must they dispark Those sparkling notions, which therein were bred? Must dulnesse turn me to a clod? Yet have they left me, Thou art still my God. Good men ye be, to leave […]...
25. "I Love You Sweatheart&quot A man risked his life to write the words. A man hung upside down (an idiot friend Holding his legs?) with spray paint To write the words on a girder fifty feet above A highway. And his beloved, The next morning driving to work…? His words are not (meant to be) so unique. Does she […]...
26. Tie the Strings to my Life, My Lord Tie the Strings to my Life, My Lord, Then, I am ready to go! Just a look at the Horses Rapid! That will do! Put me in on the firmest side So I shall never fall For we must ride to the Judgment And it’s partly, down Hill But never I mind the steeper And […]...
27. Confession for all my country poses My cells belong to a town Grass is symbol-deep in me But brick dips deeper down Mountains knock me sideways A moor chills my bones A field of wheat exults me I’m awed by ancient stones But lines of dowdy shop-fronts Mean unpolished streets Sever the green man in me […]...
28. The Intruder My mother preferring the strange to the tame: Dove-note, bone marrow, deer dung, Frog’s belly distended with finny young, Leaf-mould wilderness, hare-bell, toadstool, Odd, small snakes loving through the leaves, Metallic beetles rambling over stones: all Wild and natural – flashed out her instinctive love, And quick, she Picked up the fluttering. bleeding bat the […]...
29. Clean Hands IT is something to face the sun and know you are free. To hold your head in the shafts of daylight slanting the earth And know your heart has kept a promise and the blood runs clean: It is something. To go one day of your life among all men with clean hands, Clean for […]...
30. Theophilus By what serene malevolence of names Had you the gift of yours, Theophilus? Not even a smeared young Cyclops at his games Would have you long,-and you are one of us. Told of your deeds I shudder for your dream And they, no doubt, are few and innocent. Meanwhile, I marvel; for in you, it […]...
31. There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a Temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest. For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the World. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I Cover her against any hurt. Using the pen of rivers and […]...
32. To A Friend Concerning Several Ladies You know there is not much That I desire, a few chrysanthemums Half lying on the grass, yellow And brown and white, the Talk of a few people, the trees, An expanse of dried leaves perhaps With ditches among them. But there comes Between me and these things A letter Or even a look-well placed, […]...
33. The Mole Said he: “I’ll dive deep in the Past, And write a book of direful days When summer skies were overcast With smoke of humble hearths ablaze; When War was rampant in the land, And poor folk cowered in the night, While ruin gaped on every hand – Of ravishing and wrath I’ll write.” Ten years […]...
34. Aztec Mask I wanted a man’s face looking into the jaws and throat Of life With something proud on his face, so proud no smash Of the jaws, No gulp of the throat leaves the face in the end With anything else than the old proud look: Even to the finish, dumped in the dust, Lost among […]...
35. Dead Musicians I From you, Beethoven, Bach, Mozart, The substance of my dreams took fire. You built cathedrals in my heart, And lit my pinnacled desire. You were the ardour and the bright Procession of my thoughts toward prayer. You were the wrath of storm, the light On distant citadels aflare. II Great names, I cannot find […]...
36. Modern Love XLVIII: Their Sense Their sense is with their senses all mixed in, Destroyed by subleties these women are! More brain, O Lord, more brain! or we shall mar Utterly this fair garden we might win. Behold! I looked for peace, and thought it near. Our inmost hearts had opened, each to each. We drank the pure daylight of […]...
37. Professor Newcomer Everyone laughed at Col. Prichard For buying an engine so powerful That it wrecked itself, and wrecked the grinder He ran it with. But here is a joke of cosmic size: The urge of nature that made a man Evolve from his brain a spiritual life Oh miracle of the world! The very same brain […]...
38. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
39. Rome: On the Palatine We walked where Victor Jove was shrined awhile, And passed to Livia’s rich red mural show, Whence, thridding cave and Criptoportico, We gained Caligula’s dissolving pile. And each ranked ruin tended to beguile The outer sense, and shape itself as though It wore its marble hues, its pristine glow Of scenic frieze and pompous peristyle. […]...
40. September's Baccalaureate September’s Baccalaureate A combination is Of Crickets Crows and Retrospects And a dissembling Breeze That hints without assuming An Innuendo sear That makes the Heart put up its Fun And turn Philosopher....