Ghostly taco drifts in dreams
Preternatural / Non-volitional
Visions are conditional on the bridge to beans
Born of meat / Center seat in nacho fields
I yield
For Mountain Dew bled in streams
Strip reeds from bubbles like Jesus
Gathered children to the mouth of God
Applaud
For the Mild Sauce
Toss pico, rice, and loss into tortilla shells
Meant for covering what’s inside the ride
Tide rises
Hunger breeds a bloom
Body moves to counters
Like bones buried in snow
Whispered into nothing
“Would you like to try our new taco?”
Jake Bailey is a schizotypal experientialist with published or forthcoming work in The American Journal of Poetry, Cream City Review, Constellations, Bear Review, The Laurel Review, and elsewhere. Find him online on Twitter (@SaintJakeowitz) and at saintjakeowitz.wordpress.com.
Taco Bell Quarterly 