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Jessie Janeshek

Channel U/Silver Bullet

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This is the reliefof making a decision

on a carnal planein a vintage bikini

call it platinum gravitythe weasel skeleton

    the fast-talking valley girl vampire mask.

During the cold warwe play jokes on her tits

and hide in a hammockafraid of the gangster.

I like how the actiontakes place in the rain

locked in the shopping mall

in the course of four porcelain hours.

I like it so muchI swallow your candle or suck

I like how your t-shirt is covered in blood

the day we go to the witchcraft museum

sewage in the waterhow you eat a hotdog

we cry at the beach.

I like how the darkness of Hollywood gets me

the darkness of mallsspiders and frogs

live in the fountainyou said I had two hours

but I fished out the pennies

and ate them all anyway.I like how you said

I had a stake and a heart

the vinyl Halloween costumeinside the box

at the top of the closet.

I’m afraid to be Frankenstein’s bride

but you say I’ll look prettyif I tie the pink scarf

over my mouthcrowding my ankles

the dolls lining my shelvesturning into stars

constellation rejection.

I spend all my moneyon a nightbook

a daybookthe Halloween parade at the mall

the rigged bathing suit pageantthe sequins after the clock.

I can’t fear the reaperor the clocktower

I can’t make decisions until I am dead

but how long could that take

bounded by sunglasses, dirty bras, time?

Channel U/In Situ/Karma Not God

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After the hotelI will not take your calls

cracking the jack-in-the-box

cracking the saintwho pursues my transitions


feel how soft her hair is.

At the creamery she told me

all girls are promiscuousand you have breeder hips

and these days the bleep in the night air

is humid as blood.

You go to the psychicshe just follows your lead

a no. 1 glamor girlbecomes corpse 83.

You say don’t take a sidethe film disappears

no title to conjurethe ginger beer zip

and we’re both horrible people

antenna snappingthe past and the manwith a hook for a hand

your twisty bottle inside me

pale as pig pinka sick little blonde

on the cheap sleep of pills

a blowjob joke in the hoteloverlooking the suspension bridge.

I wear a black wig and a corset

I wear a feathered arrow and a headband

like it’s gone through my skull

I play hopscotch to wrap you in bandages

like a postmortem James Dean

your cock ringed in fire and ice lipstick.

Channel U/Psychodrama

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The secret is not to make it so precious

dying in Brooklyn with a moon on your face

or in Venice Beach catching tears in my jewelry

watching soap operasshort movies

your smell on my life.

Three made a trend even back then

in a blue shawl with pearlsI played dress-up

with death and a backbrace.

You said you hated mea glass full of static

you turned into a kitchen knife

salt on my lap.

I’m trying to make time

but I’d rather make a detective story

another partial nostalgiawhere we eat spaghetti

and you give me the pills

and we lick the murder

cornfed and tanstraddling the branch

the only way to see herwithout being seen

waiting next to the creek for the white van.

There was a time when the big spider swallowed

in its God-shaped purse

strawberry lipglossthe pleasure planchette

a middle mealthe twin bathing suits

we could not put on.

I tried to wear one and so did my doll

paranoid and abstracthalf-haunting the attic.

You said it was magic. I said it was research

a badge fighta horsea trash renovation

and outside the window

the black car kept running

all through the dream

the bloody dashboardbad energy

that kept you from marrying me.

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