Erotic Logic
by
George Holler
The Poet-of-Porn
Apostrophe, Love
The @ Club
Abbreviation Pl.
1 day, 2000-
20
Accent Marks Wink Out In Media Res From An Exotic Dancer's Belly-Ring, YEAH.
1. Accent-Grave
2. Accent-accute
Asterisks Spray-Painted With Quick Anger On A Train Station Sign
Cedilla
Mistress Circumflex
The Umlaut Sisters
Runon Aux Muses
Long, slow lay
Apostrophe, Love
Apostrophe, love:
To strive locked out of struggle
when damp fucking stops,
when limbs, slow, unwrap,
To blaze moments into soul
is vain like Day Traps.
Keeping loving in
under eyelids, Her in heart,
Is holding wreck-wood.
The @ Club
In Amboys Chang Nosse
Did a dome of flushed neon
Craft – scarlet, purple.
He was Jamaican,
Soccer child, football man, done
Now from rough games, men.
His world was Woman
And Highway 35 orb
Shaped to chase the moon.
He brought girls over
From islands, Africa, East,
Far south and Europe,
Had his purveyors
In the magazines, nightclubs,
Brothels at all ports,
Kept gals dem castles
Wrought out from Jersey salt muck,
Far Parkway towers.
Girls earned much, kept some.
Vagina was his dessert
After wine dinner.
This was the At Club:
Lavender hallways, pink cubes,
Stages etched in rose.
Lipstick red lit all,
Streamed flesh shadows down the walls.
Windows moaned bright glow.
I was riding near
On a bicycle pulled out
From garage web dust.
(I had no license
Left from too many crazed eves-
Just fast feet and yearn.)
Swamps smelled like a fuck-
A thousand mingled salt stinks,
Fat giant bog quiffs.
I biked up Morgan,
Swamp, Sayreville, swamp, South Amboy,
Fast to the @ Club.
"In Xanadu did—"
I blanked out into big Z
Reading some Coleridge.
I, though, was hashed out
And waking built up my daze:
I would steal a girl.
So, back to the @.
My pedal was quick with want.
Dream-teeth caught bush hair.
I was still in dreams.
My feet were flapping of doves
Carrying a god,
Priapic totem
Set on two-wheeled chariot
Blasted down from sun.
The globelet spread up
Its night-wakening small lights
Out over marsh brush.
Chinese Negroid scowl
From Chang Nosse went down the night
Out entrance, past stairs.
We latched stares, cold-grinned,
Helloes were muttered between.
We knew why I came.
Challenges thrilled him,
That's why he wore a gold pawn
On a bead necklace.
He knew my intent,
Million plans read through staring,
Nodded a coughed laugh
As if to announce
To me and the huge wide night:
Challenge accepted.
"Come get what you can,"
He shrugged into the doorway,
Counted out hundreds.
I had been here once,
Met him, tried picking up chicks.
He had laughed me out.
This time: yes, uh-huh,
I nodded my smiling chin
And marched up on in.
Steel purpose clamped down
Into my jaws and my smile.
I walked the nude court.
I, quick, bought a drink,
Paid out fast my ten dollars,
Caught up singles change.
I found the first girl
Who swung her naked tan hips
Hotly onto me.
I took her small hand,
And she cavorted against me,
Led me to a booth.
"I will have a dance,"
My words were unshaking commands.
She danced me up, down.
"Another one, please,"
I demanded on a sigh.
" Now, then, another."
She ground me ten rounds,
Until I fought explosion,
And we collapsed back.
"Two hundred dollars,"
She slipped hands into my pants.
"Two hundred dollars!"
I leaned further, eyes wide,
And lingered on a stutter,
"I lost my money!"
My hands and hers ran
In a teasing slow hot grope
Through folds of pockets.
"This is my MAC card,"
I brought out a plastic square.
"I don't have a car."
"How you did get here?"
Her English struggled, confused.
Her Spanish eyes bugged.
"I walked, all the way,"
I stammered out a reason.
She said, "Ummm-- come on!"
She pulled me outside.
We climbed into her red car.
We sped in black night.
A stoplight blipped red.
I grabbed her shoulders to me-
"
I'm not paying you."
"You-you-you-you-you- - "
I crushed her yells like violets
In gulped gasped kisses.
Back there, Nosse raged red
Under his light umber swarth.
Imagine him there.
He tears down curses
On an empty parking space
And tugs at dreadlocks.
I'm getting laid now
States away from Swamp County.
Think back to the car.
"You are sly and bold!"
She sneered, weakly, through my lips.
"I like men like that."
Abbreviation Pl.
She calls the place "Lee",
gonna stomp down Lee tonite!
-out where streets meet beach.
She kicks down in sand,
mastrubates about Strangers.
The world is in-and-out.
Suit men, suit women,
They march around her fingers-
She works a mean beat.
They scratch deep like rakes.
She is naked in starshine.
May no one see her.
Waves splash up cruisers.
Abbreviate fingerfuck!-
So no one may know.
1 day, 2000-
Today is for sky,
No masturbation soft-time,
Just cloudscape orgies.
Quick walk through evening-
Up-
Is a seraglio,
White puff mist women.
Horizon wisp lines
Are vague outlines of arm
Hugged around heaven.
Trees are pubic roll
Of fingers going down down-
Daze- breeze- Nature Tempt.
Clouds are swimming breasts
From nymphs afloat in wave Blue,
It's that sort of day....
Thoughts trail as zephyrs.
What is this largeness of bliss-
gray going grandeurs?
Naked mist ankles,
Go-go dancer fluff footsteps,
Fog builds over all.
Sky crafts out limb sprawl:
Piled-up nudes spilling over
Landscape-wide couches.
These must be Daughters
Or Sisters, Cousins, Nieces
Of Wild Proteus-
Gossamer dainties
Delicately belch-coughed, hmmmph,
From up sea vastness.
They keep at changing.
Here is an arm, now a leg,
shape-shifter tangle.
Magick and space nymphs
Wiggle and boogie down down
Wine baths of ether.
The sun plays out shards-
Tendrils of knuckle and grasp-
Blind gold fondlings.
Sunshine warms carress
Down upon Harems of Up-
wet, drizzle orgasm.
Rain creeps in comings.
The Great Above is spread, fucked,
By pumpings from storm.
All breaks like climax.
Sunsetting flesh blush flushed shine-
Giggle out eve's glow.
High vault concubines
Plunge the shimmer of day-end,
Cloud loose rain evening.
The bows of wow fall.
Skyline is galaxy cleavage,
Hints and darkenings.
Buttock of Sun descends
Upon angel-back pillows.
Night angles out dreams.
Skies burnish window-
One closing glimpse wide outside
Before shut- buzz- Green-
Afterimage smile-
Cloud-led altered image shrug-
What taffy is sleep?
20
ah,
I was twenty:
Light landscapes flicked out to trails,
Bright neon splashes-
1992,
Dead tapes chimed out the black car-
Then, amps bubbled grunge-
Life wafted as daisies,
Cinnamon incensed seatbacks,
Pussy-sweat wheel-grip-
Lips smear, notebooks, goals,
pen, new diary, planner,
3-6-5-0 days-
Some pain, no regrets,
Smokey good vibes everywhere
need not reassure-
She waved her dark hair
Back the crook of my elbow-
We shared daydream views-
"This cloud resembles
Argentina tilted on
Quetzocoatl's back."
"Yeah- that cloud up there
is a wivern wheezing down
Sunset's flames on trees."
The big lot was ours,
Empty except for blossoms
Cherry on asphalt-
Not yet lit sign tubes-
Vistas dropped dark evening-
We lowered our seats-
"The clouds are fucking,
Wind sprites massing far orgies,"
She spoke between... kiss-
She rolled upon me-
Her dress bunches up her hips-
Dark pubes and shadow-
We rise like fog banks,
Keeping rhythm like cloud gusts,
Race like summer rains-
I taste at her lips-
oh- oh- oh- oh- gasping- steam-
collapse to backseat-
Warmth- wetness- embrace-
Subsiding kisses- hands twined-
Ten years sped like clouds.
Accent Marks Wink Out In Media Res From An Exotic Dancer's Belly-Ring, YEAH.
1. Accent-Grave
She burns soooo somber
When she pulls herself through dark
And she fights her smile.
Her mouth rolls, "bebe,"
As she maintains her cold daze,
Blue trance in her eyes.
She is not from here.
We could guess the salts of Basque,
Sly gypsy winking
Or sweet Egypt dust
Rising from slicked tropic bronze-
Or some lost island.
She just shakes her head,
Mixes French, Russian, Portuguese.
She is not from here.
Cypriots would say
Muse is her hiddenmost glyph,
But I'd call her –
Arrrrghhhhhh!
Barony mask fang
In that stare, paint Thai devil,
Angel torched from hash,
Belladonna weep,
Wyrd hex from a Thracian box,
Seraph from sea depths.
She is a mad sky,
Heartbeating out the seconds
Just to live glances.
I cannot call her
Other than back to my bed. No, she's not from here.
2. Accent-accute
I can smell her, God,
A day later on my shirt-
It's been a long walk.
Her scent follows me,
Clings in delicate cleaving,
Over the big miles,
Like butterflies swarmed
In shiny petal bright clouds,
Like rose pollen dust.
Freshness of lit sky
Is her accent, overtone,
As lilt of her kiss
Trembles still my lips
With an ember flick imprint
And taste of berries.
Mmm, her musk wafts up
Deep saline cloying in gusts
From my fingertips.
I recall her must
And oceanic wetness
About my cracked mouth.
Tears of her goodbye
Smack lightly at the corners
Of these kiss-bruised lips.
I have chewed her hair
Honey bright as its gold shine,
Licked down her body
Her womb is my thought,
Pinked shrine of tasted recall,
Furred garden of oh.
Goddess, forever,
Quickened sigh and wet sudden
I will drink with mind.
Asterisks Spray-Painted With Quick Anger On A Train Station Sign
There are asterisks
Burned through the middle of life,
Distracting with glare.
The full way
To Be
Is serene Tao zen engaged,
Blissed in good vibes, but-
No stoicism
Will break the cut of the gust
or turn back a stare,
will refute an ache;
Whole days of meditation
cannot quell one crave
nor remind nor ease
the walker in cold staggers,
tried. Gone. Given up.
"Come on, smile and laugh,"
is just mockery of snow-
Endless slants of rain.
The Heart becomes slush,
The Mind a masturbating
twist dulled in logicks.
Everything insists.
Girls read postcars on benches,
Daydream LOVING, hugs.
It just makes shivers.
The cold builds up larger out
From human distance.
Try! try not to look
As a gruff drunk man wraps arms
Around YOUR right girl.
Try not to grind jaw
As he buries his dumb face
In blond heaven curls
Like a grimy dwarf
Trespassing on loud tread to
The stuff of angels.
To despair the Zen,
He would swing out knuckles- WHAM!!
She would laugh sweet fun.
Deep bright souls crumple
As butterflies lit and caught
In big wave frenzy.
Try not to bunch fists
As he wanders a rough thumb
Into her skirt and warmth.
She is not-for-you.
She giggles choirs with his hand
Buried up her ass.
Then just keep walking!
Close out moans through windows, shut.
There is nothing nice.
Drown out fucking-sounds
With Om, mantras, Peace & Love-
oh. Nowhere is kind.
Cedilla
She chose CEDILLA
As her go-go dancer name,
Could be anything-
But Cedilla was
A simmer, barely a word,
More hot suggestion
Of space-blown letter
Or the tremor of sighing,
Touch sound – Cedilla.
I am on a couch
In a friend's faraway-home.
Huge walk was nothing-
Just flashes of wow
Movement in a stoned zephyr,
And there was no sun
But her everywhere;
In faintest shade line of tree,
Wind hinted her dance.
That was meters and meters
Back swinging rhythmically
In Go-Go Country-
Don't you know?- that land
Wedge of gray Amboy highways,
Pussy shake nation.
We have all been there,
Some more often than others.
Saturday was ache
Pelvis grind madness
Thumped hip to hip slob ballet.
Dribble out a grin.
She let me touch her
All over and back again,
Yeah, then, she kissed me.
Her mouth was flood wet.
I drank spit gobs of cherry.
Bouncer did not see.
Her cunt smelled like pears,
And her arms streaked with plum sweat.
She slid down my lap.
She reach-spread thin hands
To take my balls and my cock.
Somersault flip twist!
She writhes in warm arc
Curves her ass back to me,
Legs gripping my face.
"Let me see it, girl."
She kick-splits her legs widely.
"
Yeah, show it to me."
"For you, here is taste."
She breaks her words and stretches
Folds from deep-in thumb,
Reaches up back, back,
Her belly-pale fingers brushed
Over my dry teeth.
So I am now back
With salt and strange new language
Licked into my mouth,
Back from dusk Brooklyn,
Back from Manhattan shadow,
Backwards hurled by train.
Ethereal week-
It wings with long waits, long walks,
Train foot bus kiss blurred.
She hushed me her name,
Said call her what I felt most.
I say CEDILLA.
Mistress Circumflex
Mistress Circumflex
Down in an Eastside dungeon
Sulked, whipping shadows.
She was nothing real.
Her skin was limed statue white.
Her height was her heels.
She faked French lisping
And made up coughs and giggles
While smoking rolled cloves.
Her wine was cherry.
She ate molded tofu cheese
And chewed sugar pills.
She kept twelve bare lofts.
Roses piled up from nowhere-
Roses teased from plush.
Hours built her beauty
From a dozen pastel chalks
And smears made of wax.
Her eyes were purple.
Magenta hung down her hair
Upon pleather gowns.
She spun many names
And forgot them blank again
And called herself, "She."
She talked Arab tales,
Spoke of forgotten kingdoms
She had never seen.
She slept empty black,
Struggled at noon to conjure,
Made up vacant dreams.
She told everyone
Who NEVER entered her hall
She was form Siam.
She had pets of cloth,
Big stuffed dragons to stroke and
Hanging plastic plants.
Living on bounced checks,
She ordered food without taste,
Listened to blank tapes,
Now the days don't come.
She will masturbate alone
In her den of stone.
A tattooed pussy
Cools down in a stubbled bed
Shaved from indigo.
If you ask of her
Any plain little question,
She'll swear she can't say.
She lines rubber dolls
Up and down her granite walls.
These are her sweet girls.
She fantasizes
Of a man who never was
Who will weep with her.
Ooh; or, So, then, write all the letters you'd like in the damp sand.
Garnashavah-ah!
Ah, ah, ah, ah, ohhh, huff, hufff,
Unh, unh, yeah, ooh, umm.
Rub on down those oils:
A nice lavender in deep,
Sweat ooze on knuckles,
Little packets of gel
Squishing open, seep on sand,
Blat red fingernails-
Apricot berry
Upon glittery lacquer,
Wet smells in perfume.
Gunnison caress
Of herself deep shadow quick-
Twenty tones of heat.
She spells names ... upon,
Then inside, deep slap to palm,
Two fingers, then three.
Vagina handshake-
Her stuff sops with mulchy squelch
heaven essence drip.
Someone gawks past her.
She flips her back to sunshine,
Naughty kindle-dreams.
The Umlaut Sisters
There he met Vannesse,
Then took her every way-
Wild in the doorway.
She strained the arches
With thrown-back shoulders and legs,
Her blue dress bunched up.
Up up with it all,
He tosses down his glasses
And yanks up her skirts.
Quick her arms twist pinned
In folds and wrinkles of blue.
She sees navy heats.
There is light and cloth
About her stare as he thrusts
In from side to side.
He lifts her with dress
And mounts her upon him there.
They forget about beds.
He runs stubbled chin
From her neck to her belly,
Kisses back up ribs.
They come together
Oh in blasts and stops and starts,
Sag into the door.
He lowers her down,
And she is a white-hot-drenched
Tangle on the floor.
They groan their farewells.
He straightens on his glasses.
She kisses his knees.
He leaves to return
When Vanness has gone to shop.
Elle is waiting, nude.
He will take her too,
While her sister is about,
Deaf to their panting.
"Shame! Where is the shame?"
He asks, screwing up tighter
His square-framed glasses.
If they had cousins,
He would take off and put on
Glasses, bed them all.
Runon Aux Muses
You are my sweet whores
All of you amber black blonde
Tousled brunette oceans
And I see you crawl
Tangle of arms legs thigh flesh
Winding seraglio
Of fingers and nails
Lacquer caressing holding
Pulling me under
The perfumed dark
Blackness of movement and warmth
In skin sweat lick tides
Pulling me down down
Nibbling every flushed inch
Like honey currents
Spreading out in waves
Of tickle and hair and touch
Under pink shadow
To roll into kiss kiss
Moist lap tongue suck bite pucker
Over under down
oh oh oh oh oh
Words, you are whores of incense:
Fuck me in my brain.
Long, slow lay
Pink, heat, flesh, colors,
Scarlet, magenta, rose, wet,
Flames, red, flash, warmth, oh.