My Chicken Dream

I dreamed that I bought
a box of chicken very cheap.
The price puzzled me
but I felt proud of the bargain.

I worked for
a large company then.

Until I put the meat in the oven
and turned on the heat,
through the glass doors I saw
a living bird. At first it
stretched its wings in the warmth
and I said well, this isn't going to be bad.

Pumped with pride I was
for things I didn't do,
trying to be seen yet
not seen.

The feathered body became a little
more frantic pushing against the glass
and I said oh my
there must have been a mistake
but it is food after all.

There was an old man
who could have built my life
and there were whispers
all around him.

The desperation of the chicken
finally penetrated my ease
and I opened the oven door.
I was glad I found it alive,
suffering only from burns
that will leave permanent scars.

I said,
no wonder it was so cheap.

Mahogony Cabinets

Where the clock marks
are audible
and the wood and china
real, day flows
like library glue.
Big-eyed people
with iron pens
know how to
turn a glance

so that known and unknown
mix in their brows and
the lantern of their end-
lessness flickers.
Because the paper has
time to age and ink
comes from factories with
exotic family names,

on designated chairs and
particular desks, they can
smooth the rough coincidences
that break the past,
write what is read
and say more
before their tears dry.