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The Fear-of-Toadstools Lady, and: On The Logic and Radiation of Our Love, and: Against Biography, and: Return of The Fear-of-Toadstools Lady

The Fear-of-Toadstools Lady, and: On The Logic and Radiation of Our Love, and: Against Biography,... THE FEAR-OF-TOADSTOOLS LADY / Amanita, blewit, corpse finder-- Because there's so much death out there, I never go outside. Step on a destroying angel And you track death right into the house, Where it dries to a dust that blows Everywhere in the ventilation, and next You're breathing poison every day. God, How terrifying to find a dead man's fingers On the backyard tree trunk, a dirty trich By the sandbox, a death cap in the junipers, A devil's egg in the potato patch. And they're so sudden!--everywhere They wait beneath us, the true toadstool A stringy body underground, much bigger Than the fruit, the part we see--which Springs up in a single night of rain. In the morning they're just there-- Elf cup, false morel, stinky squid-- Like death threats thrown from midnight limousines. These erections of the underworld-- That's what they are, so cold And damp--grisette, hygrophoropsis, Jack-in-the-boxes. Jack-o'-lanterns live In the woods near my house--some nights I even avoid kurotake and morel-- Imperial cat--we'll never tame them, never Stop them from erupting in our lawns like horrid I stand in the window and watch them glow. I've read the research. They have toxins too. I http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png The Missouri Review University of Missouri

The Fear-of-Toadstools Lady, and: On The Logic and Radiation of Our Love, and: Against Biography, and: Return of The Fear-of-Toadstools Lady

The Missouri Review , Volume 14 (2) – Oct 5, 1991

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Publisher
University of Missouri
Copyright
Copyright © The Curators of the University of Missouri.
ISSN
1548-9930
Publisher site
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Abstract

THE FEAR-OF-TOADSTOOLS LADY / Amanita, blewit, corpse finder-- Because there's so much death out there, I never go outside. Step on a destroying angel And you track death right into the house, Where it dries to a dust that blows Everywhere in the ventilation, and next You're breathing poison every day. God, How terrifying to find a dead man's fingers On the backyard tree trunk, a dirty trich By the sandbox, a death cap in the junipers, A devil's egg in the potato patch. And they're so sudden!--everywhere They wait beneath us, the true toadstool A stringy body underground, much bigger Than the fruit, the part we see--which Springs up in a single night of rain. In the morning they're just there-- Elf cup, false morel, stinky squid-- Like death threats thrown from midnight limousines. These erections of the underworld-- That's what they are, so cold And damp--grisette, hygrophoropsis, Jack-in-the-boxes. Jack-o'-lanterns live In the woods near my house--some nights I even avoid kurotake and morel-- Imperial cat--we'll never tame them, never Stop them from erupting in our lawns like horrid I stand in the window and watch them glow. I've read the research. They have toxins too. I

Journal

The Missouri ReviewUniversity of Missouri

Published: Oct 5, 1991

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