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THE SHAKY PHASE: POEMS

$13.99 $12.60

The Shaky Phase luminous, melancholy, surreal, and hypnotic poems of vodka, velour, western–nature–trash, wolves, weird oscillations, and spectral shivers…Jessie Janeshek’s second full-length collection is a louche, gothic journal haunted by television, drinking, and the desert. To enter The Shaky Phase is to enter a Twilight Zone of strange revenges, and of loss. But finally, it is to encounter poems that tone like falling stars, an uncanny space where words are matter.

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“Jessie Janeshek’s poetry vaporizes the walls in my brain, and floods it with visceral, musical, magical, sensual rapture. It’s hypnotic post-punk witchcraft streaming live from the deserts of the subconscious; it’s feral forest creatures & frisky mountain housewives eating mushrooms and reading each other’s dream journals. In other words, it’s my favorite poetry on Earth right now, and The Shaky Phase is an exemplary collection of it.”
Joseph P. O’Brien, Managing Editor of FLAPPERHOUSE

“If you don’t adore The Shaky Phase you are doomed. I’ve been reading Janeshek’s gorgeous poems for years. They fill me with baroque joys, vertigo, and envy! She is one of the best poets of her generation.”
Peter Jay Shippy, author of A Spell of Songs

“In the tradition of feral touchstones like Beefheart’s Trout Mask Replica and Burns’ Black Hole, The Shaky Phase is a compelling journey through a world that’s dangerous and strangely familiar. With lines that envelop the reader like morning glory, Janeshek directs our gaze to the edges, to the creeping green of rot. This is the poetry of the New Weird America, and I love it.”
Adam Tedesco, Founding Editor of Reality Beach

“Jessie Janeshek’s poems teach you how to shoulder them by shouldering you. It gets so there are way more shoulders than bodies then they teach you to body. The body in question opens its coat revealing steam enough for all your pressing needs, a landscape of singing snakes and messages carved up from under your skin, as the body questions its chalk outline until it quivers into lace. All the voices say ‘step right up,’ so step right up.”
Michael Sikkema, author of Die Die Dinosaur

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POETRY