A Poem From Casey Bush

by Casey Bush

It was dark I was drunk
Probably already stoned
Didn’t need another hit
Like I said: Dark, Drunk, Stoned
Picked up what I thought was dried bud
But certainly it could well have been an insect
Felt the same packed into the pipe
A fly a wasp a moth a midge
In any event properly ignited
Set on fire and sucked up
Thought it was some dead leaves
A thorn a thistle an incandescent straw
Tasted like holy hemp
Could have been anything maybe even a spider
Accented by a gooey pipe residue
No use scraping the screen for a corpse
Medicinal moss fern fungus mold
Husk larvae seed pupae pulp algae
Bong fodder clogging up the old windpipe
Although upon reflection maybe it was a spider
Illuminated by flame as it danced within a blaze
Inter-digitating 8 legged arachnid-like
Bosa Nova Quick Step Samba Paso Doble
Slowly stimulated by heat
Quickly reduced to ash
Yes I may well have smoked a spider
Or some such sentient being
Animal vegetable mineral stone paper scissors
Following the long legged blond
Straight down the rabbit hole
Gobbled up by obligatory prescriptions
Unexpected tax refunds
Highways lined with salad bars
And the fumes of flesh
Casting clouds of doubt
Upon preconceived notions
About the allegedly vast differences
Between the plant and animal kingdoms
Ultimately satisfying and oh so smooth
Got high while an insect did its last heel and toe
Got me thinking maybe it’s the next big buzz
As yes I guess I actually smoked a spider.