poems 1 & 2

 

I just want a mushroom garden
in my waterlogged backyard

I'll eat fungus til the mold
no longer makes me sick

It's cold and moist most of the year
I'm always falling ill out here

 

I want to cultivate my mushrooms
in the shade until my body knows

how to protect itself
in perfect darkness


 

I ask for words to lift me up to you
but I am speechless
with the heaviness of deeds

the shape of what I feel is not
a constellation I can
recognize by name

conversations muted or attuned
to circumstantial frequencies,
a vacancy of correlating points,

soft buzz, the dark interior


Jean Kennedy disdains authority but desires control, abhors repetition but craves stability, rejects certainty but searches for truth. In the rain or the desert, the city, the mountains, the forest, the beach, the world wide web, home is in the acceptance of the moment, work is in building the dream of a future. May the present and future have mercy on our souls and guide us home through our good work.