what is it like,
to be the worm in the mouth of the bird?
what is it like to know it was meant to happen?
to be eaten whole,
nothing left behind.
i ooze, to feed your stomach
i ooze for a reason
it's not for nothing
the worm cannot be hurt when, even in the claws of death, the bird tells them it was right
it was supposed to happen this way:
never in any other
even while eaten in pieces
even
while sliding down the birds throat
even while knowing it's meant to be this way,
the worm must endure hearing the most painful thing of all
straight from the birds beak,
"i don't regret what i've done."

I engraved her name on the picnic table
Then I engraved the stone over her grave
I engraved the memory of her face on my heart
I engraved the words on the walls of  my prayers
Then out of desparation I engraved her memory in poem

There, in the
tide pool, dappled by
the sun is birth and death,
and the spark that continues.
It leaves mankind in the wake of regret.
What have I to do with the albatross
Or sea lion?
I can but write, while they fly and roar.
I gaze upon the Pacific from this rock,
all its mysteries and grandeur.
I am inferior, while it forever reigns with
every wave and break of light.

Nothing ever right after my mom died
Decay
Decline
Despair

She's buried in Toledo
But I haven't yet been to her grave
She lives inside of me
I still miss her every day

                   No words to pray.