Robert Brendan

(1979 / Calgary)

Dangerous Goods - Poem by Robert Brendan

One pound of magic mushrooms
nine hundred dollars
Canadian
wrapped in a ziplock
slumped in an inflatable
envelope
stinks to high heaven
everytime you have to
piece some off
and the powder
the crushed mushrooms
at the bottom
of the bag
is waiting for you to decide
if you'll sell it
or if you'll give it away.
somehow
so I get these chocolate
chips
and I start melting them
and I take the bag
of shrooms
and begin the fun time of
separating
the wheat
from the chaff
and playing a new game where
I hold my breath
where if I even breathe
with only my mouth
while doing this
I will taste the spoor
the fog
of shit smelling and tasting
fungus powder
in the air.

my face blue from breath
I take the bowl
forty three grams
the digies proclaim
into the pot!
stir stir stir
onto the pan!
slide slide slide
into the fridge
chill chill chill
ready
Martha Stewart meets Tim
fucking Leary

the next morning I awoke with
a splitting localized pain in
my forehead and an
uncontrollable need
to dry heave until
I burped swallowed air

the price of victory

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Poem Submitted: Monday, October 17, 2005



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