. ~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~ ~ ~ .
I hold the petri dish of my plastic bottle
Under the flow of green-smelling county water,
To clean with the bacteria colony that is my sponge.
Drove this bottle home in a particulate-peppered car,
From the infectious breath collective of my gym,
To fester on this spore-pocked closet shelf.
When will I just
explode, like a
mycelium spawn bag,
into a huddle of
white, or brown,
Yellow or red, purple
or black mushroom caps.
Someone says......“You already......are............more full of creatures.........than you will ever know..........and
if that fact makes you...........rather laugh than gasp..........then
.......eat all of life that......is in your grasp......and you will be.....
full as a Lion's Mane............bold as a Morel.....stout
as a King Trumpet....rising
through a pungent
rain.
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