pancakes and other things i would eat the fuck out of if tomorrow would just be here already

---For Daniel Bailey

Loop. Fuck. Eat. Repeat.

Hurry the fuck up, eat my meal as if you were tap water bukkake
or arrows of carnations that a fish makes, you shout and freak
I love you like Chileans compose a whole that perpetuates
secretly, between the language spoken in May.

I love you as I cut my eyes and the cherubic
hidden within the face of Neruda, danced off the aisle foot lights,
and thanks to a bunch of artsy bicycle folks
lives the dense tongue that rises from the cracks in our teeth.

I love you without a Spanish guitar solo
I love you simply, like the flower is the plant’s genital organ
I love you in a way that blew up in a rage on the warmest winter
but this, a light circumcised in franchise, a green knight birthed
so intimate that tonight I write what is packed in,
so intimate that it starts stabbing me in the points where I can't sleep.