Like the eponymous fungus that appears to be regurgitated by the Earth herself after rain, fragments of invented folklore and mongrel histories have stained through from Breen’s subconscious and come to bloom as a trio of sequences that deal, in turn, with man’s tampering with Nature’s DNA through the selective breeding of dogs, societal fears of the witch figure, and the hopelessness of augury in the face of the inevitability of death.

There are also poems that touch on the animal-mood of man, the masks and headgear that we wear so as to try to interpret the nature of Nature, and our self-banishment from our own Eden arising out of our growing estrangement from it.

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