A Poem I wrote in 1992 called: MUSHROOMS

I wrote this poem while taking a Graduate Level Poetry Work Shop. It might have been published once. I had a stranger approach me and tease me about alliteration while I was in a poker room shortly after I submitted it (I used to live in Atlantic City, NJ).
My mind wasn't on poetry at the time it was on poker. I gave him an off-guard startled look and rather than explain himself--he disappeared.
He must have read something I had written. I love alliteration to a fault. Alliteration is cool.

My apologies for the switching to size 1 font. I tried to keep it at 2 but I lost form.

I put this poem away for many years. In my youthful naivete, I thought it obsolete. Then after 9-11, I thought it difficult.

Today, I think it appropriate.


MUSHROOMS

Alone, the wind sighs against
Barren stone burned by wintered sun, while
Corpses cached in blown dry tears, lie
Deaf and dumb.

Ecstasy creeps in mushrooms
Falling into gallows and
Gardens black where
Hallucinations’ haunting cries are lost
In the moan of the wind.

Justice undone, the oven door yawns hot
Kissing the emptiness,
Licking lips swollen with the swallowing of the
Moon crying for a newborn twin,
Neutered and barren.

On and on, the wind sighs,
Perturbed, and bereft.
Quivering and questioning its
Running nowhere, without leaves to whisper in.

Shadowed visions with myopic eyes
Tremble in eddies of
Undulating waves of heated breath
Vacillating slowly toward the seduction
Wishing with the wind, wanting the
X-rays rampant, until triumphant, the last
Yoke has tightened closed and
Zealous hath overcome -- ground zero designated.

~~Dianekkdi~~