Art

Twice Five Hundred Beats of a Bluebird’s Heart – James D. Casey IV

We fed ice cream to the rats,
dripping with sin, as we
rode cyclops scorpions
made of raccoon bones.

I remember how controversial
the chorus was, under
that otherworldly echo
coming from the scorching sun.

We postulated seven souls
at the naming ceremony
that day.

A narcissistic
determination gifted to us
by the hypochondriac shaman
from the Church of the
Cosmic Skull.

Their god’s
favorite customer.

At twice five hundred beats
of a bluebird’s heart,
the rhythm of the drums
nearly drove us mad!

Energy, power, and light
danced over us in the sky.

Guardian angels with
luminous wings, and burning
halos, residing
in the land of the living
as well as the dead.

Little
did we know, the rats were
their pets and…

so…

were…

we.