Writing Prompt 12-27-06: write your life story in food

food like life is shoved
past chapped swollen lips
without taking time to taste
and savor.
I push it past choking
and puking
and gulping
for air.

if I let myself get hungry
I'll see what I've been missing.

Haiku for the Baby Jesus

witness: late one night...
baby born to virgin whore
on a shit-straw floor

Bird Dream

in this dream I find an old wire cage...inside the cage I find two leg-less birds sweating with wet sticky feathers and labored breathing. I am deeply saddened that they are actually alive.

one bird rests in a nest at the top of the cage blinking huge eyes in slow motion and trying to open it's beak.

the other birth is beneath a glass blanket on the floor of the cage...greasy feathers sticking to and smearing the glass sheet...it's slight up and down motion is the only indication that the bird on the cage floor is actually breathing.

someone (I don't know who) says to me, "You need to feed them."
and I feel exhausted.

I pinch the lock...and the door to the birdcage crumbles like it's made of wet chalk or drywall.
I'm saddened even more so because they could have escaped so easily if they'd have tried.

I cup the bird that was in the nest in my hand and hold it under the running tap...water beading over it's oily wings...I think it's too late to save her and I feel guilty that I want to suffocate her...

I start choking and wake up.

some people believe you are all things
in your dreams.

I am:
these birds, struggling
the cage that houses
the lock that crumbles
and my own savior...giving life or taking it away.