Photography & Floral Design by Matthew Blind, Untitled Fungi Painting by Louise Tucker

THREE

SHROOMS

ON

PAINTED

WOOD

Joss Barton

HOME 

 

WAS WARM BRAIN FLESH LIKE MEMAW’S STRAWBERRY JELLY LIKE GOOD OL’

 

BOYS CHEWIN’ SKOAL GROWLING AT SISSIES THAT THEY DON’T KNOW WHAT IT

 

IS BUT THEY KNOW WHAT IT 

 

AIN’T

 

HOME

 

WAS THE SMELL OF PINES WHIPPING ACROSS CREEK SOAKED SKIN AS SHE 

 

RAISED HER HANDS IN THE BACK BED OF THE BLACK BEAT UP PICKUP TRUCK 

 

BARRELING DOWN A HWY PAST RUSTED JUNKYARDS AND CONFEDERATE 

 

TRAILERS AND SIGN POSTS POINTIN’ TOWARD TAUM SAUK AS THE BLEACH 

 

BITTEN TOWEL BECAME A WIND SWEPT GOWN WAVING TO WHITE CROSSES 

 

AND BAREFOOT KIDS ON LEAD PAINT PEALED PORCHES PITCHIN’

 

ROCKS

 

HOME

 

WAS A DIRT ROAD TO NOWHERE AND DITCH BEDS AND INFINITE BACKWOODS 

 

AND SHIT PIE COPROPHILOUS COUSINS WOULD FIND OUT IN THE COW PASTURE 

 

ON RAINY AFTERNOONS AND DIG UP WITH STICKS DARING EACH OTHER TO 

 

EAT ONE UF’EM 

 

HOME

 

WAS GRANDMA WARNIN’ US ‘BOUT HUNTING FOR MUSHROOMS UNDER ROTTEN 

 

LOGS AND WET LEAVES SHE WOULD TELL US TO ALWAYS LOOK FOR THEM 

 

WHITE GILLS THEM THOSE POISON WIDOW CAPS AND NEVER TOUCH THOSE

 

WITCHES RED TOADSTOOLS THOSE OPEN THE DEVIL’S DOOR SHE’D SAY MAKE 

 

YOU GO PLUM OUT YOUR 

 

MIND

 

HER 

 

WAY OF WARNING HER BABIES OF THE PSYCHOTROPIC REALM A COSMIC

 

WILDERNESS SIS FREQUENTLY TRAVELS THRU HITCHIN’ RIDES ON THE BACKS 

 

OF RUBY THROATED HUMMINGBIRD IMPRINTED ACID STRIPS OR WRITHING 

 

ON POPPER CLOUDS WITH CLENCHED MOLLY JAW AND SWOLLEN CUMDUMP 

 

LIPS OR CHEWING THE BLUE VEIN STEMS AND BLACK BELLIES OF PSILOCYBIN

 

CAPS THE HOLY TASTE OF MANURE AND DESICCATED WOOD AND DEATH

 

BITTERS CONSTRICTING THE THROAT IN AUTOEROTIC EGO-ASPHYXIATION

 

AS THE WALLS BEGIN TO BREATHE AND THE SOUL MELTS INTO SPORES OF 

 

TRANSSEXUAL GERMINATION THREADING SPOOLS OF METALLIC SPIRO-THIN

 

SEMEN SOAKING THRU WONDER BREAD BEDSHEETS THE SMELL OF MOLD AND

 

METH CLINGING TO THE PINK REPTILE PRINT SCARVES DRAPED ACROSS 

 

SOFT WHITE LAMPSHADES AND THE CHEMICAL COCKTAIL OF SPEED AND 

 

SHROOMS HOT RAILING THE FEMME MIND’S EYE INTO DARK CRYSTAL 

 

DIMENSIONS REFLECTING GRAINY KODAK FILM BACK INTO HER BROWN   

 

IRIS IMAGES RAPIDLY BLOOMING INTO FIELDS OF WET FUNGAL

 

FLESH MATTRESSES OF BULBOUS WHITE PUFF BALLS BRIGHT TANGERINE 

 

CHICKEN OF THE WOODS MORPHING INTO FAT SCRATCHING CLUCKERS 

 

THE KIND GRANDMA WOULDA CALLED SUNDAY FRYERS FORESTS OF SUNSET 

 

BLUSHED CORAL FUNGI SCATTERED IN PINK AND PURPLE STALAGMITE 

 

FORMATIONS ACROSS THE HOLLER FLOOR A KIND OF HYPHAE HEAVEN THAT 

 

LOUISE WOULD HAVE TRIED TO CAPTURE IN ONE 

 

OF 

 

HER 

 

PAINTINGS HER POETRY IN OILS AND LATEX HER VISIONS THE PEACEFUL 

 

VALLEY OF THE NATURAL WORLD LADYBUGS CRAWLIN’ UP LEAVES OF GRASS

 

SHELTERED BENEATH THE SHADE OF PRIMARY FUNGAL COLORS HER SISSY 

 

GRANDCHILD CATCHES FRAGMENTS OF HER GOSPEL SOUL WHILE SUCKIN 

 

ON THE MELTING KALEIDOSCOPE LIGHTS TRACING THE BOUNDARIES OF A 

 

LONELY WORLD HOLY IN ITS WILDNESS HOLY IN ITS EMBRACE OF DEATH HOLY 

 

IN ITS UNKNOWABLE GOD BROWN STAINED BLOCKS ON HOOKS SHE PAINTED

 

AND FRAMED HER FOLK ART THESE AMERICAN SPORES BLEEDING SONNETS ON 

 

HOME

 

HER 

 

HOME

 

NOW A SHELL WRAPPED IN THORNS AND GILL WINGS OF DESTROYING ANGELS  

 

GLASS VENOM THE FAGGOT CHILD WAS DOOMED TO CARRY INSIDE HER ROTTEN

 

TEETH THE SHAME MATERIALIZED INTO IRON CAP FILLINGS AND VERSES FROM 

 

LEVITICUS A MANIC KIND OF RAPTURE SHE COULD ONLY FEEL IN THE FULL 

 

LAUGHTER OF HER BIG LIPPED BROWN BODY AN INDULGENCE SHE WOULD

 

HOLD ON TO BRINGING HER CLOSER TO THAT PERFECT STATE OF TRANSGENDER

 

NATURE

 

SPORES

 

USED TO BE THOSE TENT REVIVAL PREACHERS AND THEIR BLOOD FLUSHED 

 

CHEEKS STAINED WITH SINNER SALT TEARS 

 

SPORES

 

USED TO BE THOSE WHITE WOMEN FAWNING OVER HER SPIRAL CURLED HAIR 

 

SHINY AND SMOOTH AND BLACK AND NEVER DYED AND NEVER  

 

BRITTLE 

 

SPORES

 

USED TO BE THOSE WHITE BOYS AND THEIR PALE NECKS AND CHEEKS PINK 

 

AND ROSY LIKE THEIR COCKS PINK AND ROSY LIKE THEIR HANDS PINK AND 

 

ROSY GRIPPING BASKETBALLS AND RIFLES AND BEER CAN HOLES FOR 

 

TOBACCO

 

SPIT

 

SPORES 

 

USED TO BE THOSE WHITE MEN AND THEIR TRANNY ADDICTED HOT MUSHROOM 

 

HEAD DICKS THEIR CLEAN AS A WHISTLE TRANNY HUNGRY HOLES THEIR

 

FRAMED FAMILY PORTRAITS STATIC MARBLED SMILES AND AN UNSPOKEN

 

KNOWING

 

SPORES

 

OF THE HEART FLAMING LIKE HOMOSEXUAL CHARIOTS BURNING HOLY 

 

FAGGOTRY AND TRANNY TESTAMENTS CRIMSON SILHOUETTES OF COCAINE

 

GEEKED PUSSY SILICONE LUBED ACRYLIC NAILS CRAWLING ALONG TIT AND LIP

 

STROKING TO THE VEIN PATTERNS OF YOUNG HUNG JOCKS SMACKING THEIR 

 

SPIT

 

LINED MOUTHS DOWN ANOTHER ANONYMOUS SISSY STALK THROBBING WITH 

 

SUGAR SWEET 

 

CROPS

 

SHE

 

IMAGINES HERSELF LEAD HEADLINE INKED ACROSS THE TIMES OF THE WORLD 

 

PHOTOGRAPHS OF HER SNATCHED WAISTLINE WRAPPED IN BLACK MOLD 

 

CORSET AND THIGH HIGH STOCKINGS HER NECKLINE ADORNED IN GOLDEN 

 

TEACHERS A CHUNKY PRECIOUS CHOKER OF DIRT WASHED YELLOW 

 

AND GOLD UFO SAUCERS AND HER SLIME DRIPPED LEGS DRIPPING WET WITH 

 

A CRINOLINE OF COPPER SLICKED WOOD 

 

EARS

 

SHE

 

LISTENS TO THE CALL OF THE AMERICAN TURTLE DOVE OR AS OLD TIMERS

 

CALL HIM THE MOURNING DOVE A BIG DICKED SELF SUCKIN’ FEATHERED 

 

FAGGOT HE TELLS HER ‘BOUT THE BEATINGS DADDY GAVE HIM AND THE 

 

FEARS HE FEASTED ON IN STAINED GLASS BIRD-FEEDERS HE WRAPS HIS LEGS 

 

‘ROUND HIS SISSY SCRUFF REDNECK AS HE PECKS AND LICKS HIS STIFF COCK 

 

THROBBIN’ WITH CRACK SMOKE AND PENTECOST HIS PUCKERED HOLE A 

 

RING OF SMOOTH PINK GILLS GASPING FOR FAME AND DECOMPOSING

 

FAUNA   

 

HIS

 

COOS CONJURE A GLIMMERING WALL OF SEQUINED LICHEN MEMORIES A 

 

BIOLUMINESCENT DISCO OF GLOWING GRIEF TRAUMAS AND TALL TALES TALL 

 

BOYS OF PALE LAGERS AND NIGHTMARES OF PALE HORSES LONESOME LOVERS

 

SPINNING INTO GLORIOUS HALLUCINOGENIC HELLS WHERE THE PAIN IS PICKED

 

FROM THE ROTTEN ROOTS LIKE MORELS IN MARCH TEAR SOAKED AND 

 

TREMBLING SHE SLICES OFF THE BITS OF BRUISED AND SOGGY SPONGE THAT

 

REMIND HER OF THE SILENCE SHE WAS FED AS VIRTUE AND DELIVERANCE

 

CUTTING THRU THE FUNGAL BODIES OF FACISM AND SELF-DESTRUCTION SHE

 

FINDS HERSELF FREE OF THOSE FALSE GODS FREE OF THOSE NEON CAGES FREE 

 

OF THOSE FRONTIER FANTASIES FREE OF THOSE FAGGOT FEARS BUT NEVER 

 

FREE FROM THOSE SPORES WE CALLED HOME MAYBE THESE MEMORIES ARE

 

BUT TWANGS ECHOING OFF BLUEGRASS TWILIGHT A BUTTON CAP SPOTLIGHT

 

OF QUIET LOVE LONGING TO BE HELD A CEREMONIAL FIELD OF BURNING 

 

TULIPS AND PAGAN FUNGI DANCING IN EMBROIDERED CIRCLES ‘ROUND THE 

 

BARN

 

HER

 

HEART AS SIMPLE AND FULL AS THREE SHROOMS ON PAINTED WOOD

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