poetry / culinary poetics
A Luncher’s Monologue — Don’t Let the Picture Fool You
talking to mushrooms
your stunning curves beat artists’ strokes
maitake~~elm ears~~play yoga-asana. your
potency no manmade drugs come even close
playmates’ flavors you willingly yield
nutty juicy cushion~~bite worthy~~
a good sport always
i hear your numerous names. fancy properties
curing beasts. unmentionable lest
forbidden memories stoke dismay
i hear the shogun of 1603 died. of exhaustion
from war. but recovered! thanks to
your kind stay
i hear quiet talks of azeeeeese…azeeeeese…
the sound of gauze peeling on skin
post-atomic bomb. you gave them easier days
i hear you clear clogged arteries
protect older brains. guard younger spleens
gift dreamless nights
i hear your extended families. distant relatives
lingzhi. wood hedgehog. morel. matsutake
rise to superstardom boosting immunity
i hear these years the dreaded c-bomb
(no, not that c-word)
come pounding on doctors’ doors. relentless
people scrambling for more of you. crestfallen
hothouse induced metabolism hardly keeping up
stewed. stir-fried. steamed. souped. double-boiled.
pills.
i wonder if you have a convenient form
eradicating evil mind varieties?
© Pseu Pending (Seu) 2024
I’m overwhelmed by the profuse information on mushrooms’ superior benefits for health. Foragers, could you find one for curing evil thoughts?
(This poem is not medical advice)
Culinary Poetics~~
