Member Poem

Have you ever listened to the magic of a mushroom?

Maybe you’ve seen the vault of gills,

Or the cellar with its heart so deep,

But have you heard the long ivory song of its stem,

About the rockcrawlers and earthbiters under its umbrella?

All those passersby, shifting earth with their feet:

The millipede, a forest comb brushing furrows in the soil,

The sprout’s hungry green foot,

The toad’s four-pointed star,

A clear cool tendril of rain.

The earth pulls,

and the earthlings push back.

When you sit still and do nothing but grow,

You see there’s no difference between the dirt

And the foot that moves it.

You see that everything is alive.