"Lurid Sphincter of Entanglement," "Telepathetic Hallucinotion," and "Remind Me Who I Am"

Lurid Sphincter of Entanglement

honking lizard with a lesion
gobs of green snot by the truckload
turn coat give it to me now
you can balance the checkbook
but our Almighty Lord runs the Lottery

after drinking enough red wine
a weekend of rage and riot
anyone can see in the dark
without a special scope or song
learn about light from its absence

in a corner of the room cowering
poor pitiful wounded animal
let me touch your open sore
run a couple of laps around the track
those were a few really good minutes.



Telepathetic Hallucinotion

If not gas then maybe moldy shower curtains,
working from staph through scabies to leprosy,
theater fungorum, mistake on the lake, party in
the past, pre‑arrange funerals while emotions are
calm, sporting a Krugerrand in the 7 item or less
express/cash only check out at Safeway.

Beyond other worldly matters, rambunctious
Scandalmongers haunted by the camera obscura,
slinging limeaids at pipsqueaks; there is no going
back, bedaubed and bedizened, surrounded by
beards, backpacks and bicycles, trapped in the
last refuge of the terminally hip.

Function at the junction, a bone in the mouth, as
we get older there is less free association, the
dead pledge, relative absolutes on my nerves;
ether congestion, synchronized traffic lights and
neckties; tax shelters but no public toilets

Put on your other dress, pocket the money, go to
the bog, get absolutely blotto, fill up the old
cake hole, dine and dash, thick as shoots,
numerous and pleasant, pink moss and kahlua,
caterpillar root, truffles spawned by thunder; but
everybody is too busy reading each other's minds,
appearing hundreds of miles from their bodies and
refusing to decay after death; as it is, when you
think of me, I find that I, in turn, am thinking of you.



Remind Me Who I Am

When I forgot my password
The computer asked a few questions
My mother’s maiden name
First dog, first love
Where I went to elementary school

When I forgot my bank account pin number
The teller asked to see two pieces
Of photo ID some combination
Either driver’s license
Work place badge or passport

When I saw you at the rally
And couldn’t remember your name
We talked about the people we know
In common and through political affiliation
Assured we were on the same side of the ballot

When I forgot where I parked the car
Wandered downtown streets
Picking my way through faceless crowds
Regretting that last round of drinks
And the marijuana we smoked on the corner

When I forgot to wear my eyepatch
Saw double where I knew I was forlorn
Get it done right the first time
Let the phone ring off the hook
My neck just happens to fit in that noose

When I forgot the secrets of my tribe
I told you God only knows
Dust bunny in a forsaken shrine
Exhausted virus abandons its host
There’s no reasoning with religion

Lost in a world where we are each alone
It’s useful to tap into the collective memory
Don’t bother dredging the river
I’m assured by the smile on your face
There’s no how like now



Casey Bush

Casey Bush is a Portland poet whose eighth collection Student of Hippocampus was published in 2018 by Last Word Press (Olympia, WA).  His essay “Sisters Around the Cauldron: Mary Barnard and Her Sappho” was recently posted on the Berlin based website The Decadent Review.  Casey is the poetic voice of Notes & Motes: The Vlatkovich Trio Plus One.  He recommends Planned Parenthood and the Southern Poverty Law Center.


Edited for Unlikely by Jonathan Penton, Editor-in-Chief
Last revised on Sunday, January 7, 2018 - 22:30