Nick Demske


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

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