“Mushroom rain” (or gribnoy dozhz’ in Russian) is a term used in some cultures for a rare kind of weather: rain falling while the sun is shining. The name stems from the traditional belief that these conditions are ideal for mushroom growth. It is a fertile phenomenon, much like the birth of poetry.
I take it also as a symbol of convergence — the coming of all life-giving things together. Visually, this convergence is sunlight reflecting through rain: illumination within what might otherwise seem grey. It suggests that something hidden can be revealed, that there is a quiet, glistening reality beneath the surface of things. An animating grace, giving shape and light and life.
This is what reading the ineffable in poetry feels like to me, and I hope this becomes a place to hold that feeling, and to share it.
Sometimes, I think, this vision of reality hits us rather suddenly, when overcome by an impression or when trying to explain a feeling. My guess is that many of us have taken to notebooks or notes apps to get it out.
We invite submissions of pieces like this that were not meant to be found: notes app fragments, private documents, and all manner of poems written without an audience in mind. Work that carries the texture of immediacy, privacy, or hesitation is especially welcome.
Mushroom Rain 