Nick Demske


The frozen blast of sunrise melts up, cottony popsicle. I love that. I love the flaming carpet parapet peeking sunrise provides at my feet, scintilit up pockmarked Michigan dimple dappled blond shoxygentile. I Blatz Schlitz and Pabst it, Brew City stylus. I cream city brick shithouse guzzle. Illicit carcinogens—contrail scars on the Blu-ray—only more better ye butter the saline skyline, yo.

Yo. I know some hoes slutty. You and what army. I know the Lockheed Martin logo bastardizes stars. And so I stare down the glare of your barrel and pray to a bastard—what father hath He?

Still the silver screen screams violent scenes into eros. Still the slings and arrows of fortune 500 private sector no bid contractors can’t meet munition demands. Gott-damn, the Hell from Above’s a beaut. And blesséd are those who mourn. It is the east and Juliet is the sun. For thy rod and thy distaff, they comfort me. Thy bastardizing star; maker of widows most blackest.

The Belle City spills with fugacious light geishas. I tantrickle puddle up, putty in your hands. Long I to meet thy demands, Ransom. The morning’s so handsome, florid glissando, trademark of my Engagement. I blush like a bride, I flush like I flied out of bush and got fried. But soft, But Lo: a light from a bushel. You scoff. You burn me. I glow.


for Blake Butler

Lil’ B is the perfect example of a highly functioning retard. I’m mad he fucked my grandma, dumped her in a forest and then stole her jewelry. He’s making his bread and butter off coonery. Let that boy grandma cook.

A pre-sunrise glows the subtle hues of damaged laptops. The day sings roughly 3000 or so songs into our eyes. I’m a fag. I’m a lesbian. I am the hood, hypergraphic with a new age mysticism. Worst fucking rapper of life itself.

Your bitch sucked my dick cause I look like Darth Vader. This nigga funny as fuck, I don’t give a fuck if he can rap or not. I laughed out loud so hard when I read that, but then I felt like shit. Rock on London. Rock on Chicago. The kaleidoscope of daybreak shatters smooth across horizon. Be glad Lil’ B did this for you. He is a Human Sacrafice.

NICK DEMSKE lives in Racine, Wisconsin and works at the Racine Public Library. His self-titled manuscript was selected by Joyelle McSweeney for the 2010 Fence Modern Poets Series Award and was published by Fence Books. Nick was featured in 2011 as one of fifteen emerging poets to watch for by Poets and Writers magazine and his book was chosen as one of the 10 Best Books of Poetry in 2010 by a Believer Magazine reader survey. This past fall, he completed a month-and-a-half-long book tour that traveled over 10,000 miles across the whole of America. Nick curates the BONK! performance series in Racine and edits the online venue boo: a journal of terrific things. You can visit him online sometime at his blog