KILL DA WABBIT
Cartoon logic liberally applies itself to the technicolored characters of its reign.
The cult phenomenon's ghost-writer is a snow flake in the avalanche.
Hey, Nonny Nonny—the woman shaves her legs. That's weird. And a super total turn on.
In a world where a bipedal dog wears a turtleneck and trousers, another, nakeder dog is the property of an anthropomorphized mouse.
You've been bamboozled. Hoodwinked. Lied to.
The planet is really a dwarf. And the dwarf is really a little person.
The bright implants turn on the very artist who hand drew them.
The subdivision architects model their design after a theme park's.
I walked outside with my shirt off today. I bleached my most intimate essence.
The rules evolve with each passing season.
The game is a commercial rap artist.
A rabbit waxed its special purpose.
A narrative dominated its lover.
My master mentality first starred in “Chain Gang; the afterbirth of a nation.”
I am the largest body in the Kuiper Belt, which is a belt of asteroids that encircles the entire solar system.
Your implants, your cochlear implants. Your coke off an augmented glute.
I can see. I'm free. I'm happy as a pup.
My love has come home. His boat on mine shore.
I'm going to feel complete.
Nick Demske lives in Racine, Wisconsin, and shelves books at the Racine Public Library. His self-titled manuscript was selected by Joyelle McSweeney for the Fence Modern Poets Series prize and was published in 2010. One goodreads reviewer has said of it, "If I wanted 'clever' play with cliche and idiom I'd go watch really bad poetry slam performances on YouTube." Another: "...reading this feels like watching family guy."
New work of his will soon be appearing in Broome Street Review, jubilat, ACM, Compost and elsewhere. Nick is a curator of the BONK! Performance series, a founder of the Racquetball Chapbook Press and an editor of the online venue boo: a journal of terrific things. Visit him sometime at nickipoo.wordpress.com.