mister mushroom

plumes of silver hair

billow above thy brow

and beg not for fingertips

but for translucent, loose elastic


merciful is time on me

as it bestows the art of forgetting

on a tack-sharp memory

who possesses lenses in more hues

than known to the laymen eye


filled with passive guilt am i

as i see the cast of God on my iron heart

has faded with the promise of eternity


Friday 13th – mint jelly

I woke up at midnight to my birds fighting. I was the one to get up and calm them with gentle words and gentle lights. As I touched the timber with tender toes, I felt my head spin through time and space. I went back to bed. On the cusp of sleep, my subconscious mind took full control and I had none.

Images ¬†of me, the devout vegan, at a barbecue were thrown at my broken mind. Everyone was eating meat and I was yelling but I couldn’t stop them. All I could hear were the names of animals once they had been ground and smoked and baked and burned. Prosciutto, ham, bacon, beef. I could see and smell flesh charring in big pans. Everyone laughed as they squelched their meat into mint jelly. Suddenly, the cutlets jumped off the plates and arranged themselves as the ribs of a sweet sheep in front of me.

I forced myself to wake and my heart forced itself out of a comfortable rhythm. Someone’s invisible hand grasped my throat. I gagged. I shook. And I didn’t go back to sleep.