FUNGI FANTASTIQUE PT. 1
On forest floor
Dewing our night-dreams with
Devil—you lost it—
Now salivate red;
You roam through the trees,
Seek what fell from your head.
Fluff fantastic, a foaming basket,
A waterfall fungi façade.
The goat-man, he romped
Through the fern-carpet fronds
And sought to elude the gods.
He left his beard here,
He left his beard there,
Fur decoy, confusion so odd.
And when he was done
He failed to reclaim
The shaggy face now grown so broad.
On you, thing of the earth, the wood nymphs rest—
The Dryads, the Meliai, the Caryatids—
When flitting from whatever they flee.
Your kindly soft brown concave perch
Perhaps even once held Eurydice.
Her voice was lovelier than those of the sirens
For whom sailors swooned to their deaths
When taken in by their song.
But a viper unseen tangled with her flesh,
And Orpheus wept at the wrong.
When the moon is a lantern
The faeries come out,
And oh what a sight to see!
With their mischief, their meddling, their merriness,
They caper about the country.
Bright bits of ribbon
The highest prize,
Cavorting takes on a goal;
The pixies prance, the pixies dance,
With their delicate blue parasols.