Deborah Kelly

This poem was written and performed for the Telluride Mushroom Festival in August of 2022. An organizer asked if I would write a zuihitsu for the occasion. Though it didn’t evolve as expected, seeming less a zuihitsu than others I’ve written, the poem is as the poem wants to be, with much tending from the tip of a pen.

In forest and desert, the alpine regions of mountains, all inhabitants are alive with communication. Their vitality is what most arouses my awe. I often explore questions of what or who is alive, and just how. 

Maybe I began asking these questions as a teen, when I spent a night on a small rocky island in the Quetico. There were countless mosses and tiny fungi growing from between-spaces. Pines were  spun into compact shapes by wind. I still want everyone to experience such enchantment, somewhere, to be assured by the extent of our kinship right here on Earth.