Sermon On The Mushroom
(Chaos Theory)
Who will be as fragile as an April moon,
irrational moon, mushroom moon?
Wetly in the glades of her prolific world
he stands unreasoning, unreasonable;
spotted cardinal, saffron, coral;
spongy as a sorcerer’s hat;
ecstatic god penis: sacred food, cataclysmic,
minute, unique and final. A singular
essence, delicate and unusual.
"More importantly", declares the physicist
"it was born in the singularity
of a collapsed universe, violently,
we measured it."
Who will plant the tree of poetry in the chaotic soil of a black hole?
Who will introduce nature’s exotics to the hunter wasp of modern physics?
Let the physicists realize the indisputable mushroom.
Let him smell its aromatic decomposition.
Let him classify its whisper and let
the anarchy of its strangeness influence him.
Will he dare to swallow its singularity?
Will he feed the black hole of his own soul
and collapse into another universe,
another uni-verse, another one-verse?
How many verses in creation’s soul?
How many angels in the head of a mushroom?
Let us pray:
Matter and anti-matter all go round,
worlds begin and worlds run down,
her son is a reminder beneath the trees,
her son is the only sun she sees,
eat of his body, make her merry,
and come spirit us to her sanctuary.
-Ted Guhl
