Potluck

 

T H I S    W E E K

Poems by Jessie Janeshek

 

Three Poems

 

pull the sleeping bag over my head 
 

and think about the park where 
i smoke cigarettes sometimes w small 
birds that fly up in groups out of the grass
and the sun that reflects off their backs 

as ppl walk by on cellphones
seeming to exist somewhere else. 

sleep and feel different than 
all the money i could’ve made from 
going to work and my teeth would
feel ok bc i didn’t grind them and i’d 
wake up and look at messages and emails.

then everyone would be coming home 
from their jobs tired and hungry stuck 
in traffic while i stand in the kitchen 
barefoot listening to music drinking coffee.

 

 

 

 

cloud porn
 

i try to remember you, like an airplane 
flying into atlanta 

when the sky is pink grey and the city 
pulses like a heart beating under glass. 

in the distance there is space to feel 

how you say, when you say the world 
is very simple and complex.

and in between there are clouds 
that move and break, break and break, 
break and break, break and break 
and break inside the air.

 

 

 



recombinant flower inside your head 
 

against my irises there is a sunbeam.
tho i can’t predict the future, i can hold 
a portion of your brain and both your 
eyes inside my skull. haha incredible. 
haha blooms. do u know the sound an 
ocean makes when it is being eaten?
let me explain the sound an ocean
makes when it is being eaten. nestle 
crunch. haha crunch. silently, we will 
put an end to all this distance— the 
light-guards and insects, plastic bottles 
in the street.

 

 

 

Chris Barton lives in Knoxville, TN. He lived an entire summer with a yellow jacket infestation in his bedroom. He has fallen down an up-escalator before. Other work by Chris has appeared in or is forthcoming in MetazenHousefire, and Hobart.