Casey Bush

TERRORREALITY

I can hear the snake’s rattle but cannot see its
fangs.  Our world is often mistaken for a singular
echo chamber or a shared dreamscape but instead
is a journey along the delicate string binding this
pearl necklace.    Every morning we rise to wander
through desiccated hillsides covered by sage and
bunch grass, traversing unbroken altitudes, driven
by the promise of a verdant coastal paradise.  
There is no clear path forward as this lifetime is
whittled down to a single eternity.   At night
between circled wagons we dance in shoes with
paper-thin soles, a twisted brittle tongue and
unraveled laces desperate for a competent knot.   
Beneath the full moon, a pack of wolves crosses
the ridge and descends into the valley below.   

Casey Bush is a longtime Portland writer, biographer and journalist. His 8th book of poetry, Student of the Hippocampus, was published in 2018 by Last Word Press (Olympia, WA). His work has most recently appeared in Otolights, Unlikely Stories, Elohi Gadugi, Caliban, North Coast Squid, Poeming Pigeon, UUT Poetry, The Bear Deluxe and 1859.