golden Tremella
glistening yellow
like the sun

I pluck you from rain-wet grass
wrap you in aluminum
and put you in my paper bag

Icy Morning Mushrooms

Barnacles on a log
Silk and velvet polypores


The ocean
Where shifting waves peel open blue,
On my sea chair
I rock up and down a cold emerald wave.

Where am I?
Poised between sea and sky, where
Clouds drift
With their tale of deserts and limes.

O decaying world, in the mind I seek
Rest, and waves, sun, and pale
Untrammeled sky, ribbon of myself cut
Again and again.

Out the window at the green and blue,
Earth connected to sky by lightning-armed trees
Devastation without and within.

I clutch a pale hope
That song can
Heal the world,
That music, balm of ages

Will flood the world.

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