Fungus - A Roundel

Here is a celebration of fungus, written by that fascinating individual, voicestovoices.


When you love fungus you're never alone.
His comtess ran off; our fling has flung us;
her artist left. But you're not on your own
When you love fungus.

The spores were there when your first seed was sown.
The plants all cry "its scent will have sprung us
up from the moist soil with a loamy moan
when you love fungus"

It will be there when you're dead. Stalk and cone
climb up Hangman's Arch which has, well, hung us.
It caresses flesh, it embraces bone
when you love fungus.