Tuesday, November 27, 2018

Social Animal Revised

Godfrey Logan

Sudden as storm
against her.
Hardly light press

Suckle center
visitor boudoir
Given to outdo
or why bother?

Subtle warning
consent by the whites.
Sight them
quite diversion.*

Gypsy artisan

It stop raining.
Once city dweller
Keep to festival
travelling show.
Rats in the courtyard.

Put on best dress
when need be feminine.
Suite for privacy.
Homage erotica.

The creature
Gypsy lust.
Actors in coitus.
Elders hope for Dallas

I Remember Elle

Steady through peace time.
Reality as it was.
Particular one boy.

The boys with their antics.
Leave me to indulge.
Lest affair won’t do.

Think such of him
transient season.
Through the harvest hardly
men without need.

South Village, Providence

Collective consensus:
bad actors.
The King’s men.
Assassin in the building.

Family business this murder.
The duo for their part
as if in their boudoir.
men meet their demise.
Get out of the country alive?

As if her secreta is gold.
Tempestuous waters
at theater doors.
Put it to the spotlight.
I do the same.
Consensus: bad actors.
Assassin the building.


Fools gold.
An epitaph on
grave marker.
Says I’m man of means
or a lesson for learnin’.
 the martyr in me.

Know nothing more
than pushing pen.
Lonely prose
like writing my name.
Sounds pretty
from her mouth.
Has she interest
in uttering it?
Her brothers
make game of it.
Thin skin.

Write the equivalence
of ancient text.
Think long and hard
you put name to movement.
How sweet in treat the beast.

Poignant still.
The unexplained life
is merciful.
Perhaps it’s
seventy five dollars
I hadn’t taken in ’96.
Said I’d go slow
but things unraveling.
And before then.
And before then.
I never wished this love
be poisoned well.
hell is paved…*

Say It Like You Mean It

Your stiff chin
and your haughty
If you don’t mean a word of it
fall on your poniard.
There is privilege involved.

Your secrets spread
like smoke signal.
Thrill seekers have the building
The lady of the house
set loose the hounds
in the morning.
Your stiff chin
when they’re picking
at your clothing.
If no feel for it
fall on your poniard.
There’s privilege involved.*

The walk from
the university
about a mile.
Then to the cellar.
Politics aside.
The despair is thicker
than expected
whichever suffer me.
I tell the keeper,
“set one of your ladies…”

The town square.
Bats in the courthouse
belfry. Reincarnate.
Believe the fellow
had something to do with it.
“Top Of The Town.”

There is always the park.
She shudder at the thought
of crossing without escort.
Despair is thicker than expected.
An interminable mist.
Move about it as if
inevitable condition.
There are Betas around.
See their foot prints towards town.
Mere miles either side of the courthouse
see your way clear.*

South Village,

Gem of the theater scene.
Master raconteur
and so his narratives
grace the stage.
They’re true events
whether he was party to
or witness.
What it is to be your muse.

Their rapacity for it.
Plausible experience.
Ravenous applause.
The capacity for rapt audience.
Always in character.

The waters are angry.
All the wit he could use
winsome as it shook out.
All of the passion
and rapacity for it.
What it is to be his muse.

Off the southwest coast
the sound of merry making
spills out onto the water.
The Brandywine Mountains.
The venerable venue.

Tonight’s story:
An apartment in the city.
They stand like prize fighters
in a room.
Their wear spartan
with little dialog.
Plays out with aplomb.
If there is blood.
Acted as written.*

Comfort Woman

With your subtle
but unsubtle trump.
I sing the Raven’s song
and sought the window.
They were gone.

I wanted simple
and sweet.
Leave it to black bird
and High Priest.

Eyes to the heavens
but door through which
comfort comes.
Body wants what it wants.
Sing Raven’s song  
I’d sight just once.*

American Horror

Always devil
but witch of winter.
She is specter
when full house.
Vex the boy
drink made slow.
Fuck him to death.

Always the devil screeching
and bleating.
Minion’s gone rogue.
Witch of winter vex
the boy afloat River North.*

I didn’t start it
but see it better than.
Death or ridiculous end.
Her’s word do
what they should.
I’d suicide  
I finish the book.

I could’ve been
good for something.
Sprinkle arsenic on my limes.
Roll it into my cigarettes.
I used to be good
for good times.
No glitterati and
no one to rent the apartment.

Were I covetous in wanting
deeper than it cut.
Put that into the book.
A feeling for serene waters.
Morphine dreams.
I am good for it
the good doctor.*

Fuss over her dress.
If not intrigued,

Now hardened hearts.
The blocks depressed.
Once exposition
then annexed.
The long dead
same address.
They want to bed you
wedded macabre.
The fated creature
no shrinking beast.
To be foolish
if not intrigued. *

Save a man from himself.
Who’d cleave
to the hem
of your frock.

Save a man by pointing
out his wealth.
Knowing one cannot
help himself.
Come aboard
where borders
tenuous at best.
My vessel
mahogany flesh. *


Something’s got to give.
Used to be come 12 am
the phone ring.

Back then he could afford
be generous.
The restaurant
go under,
go back to it.

Used to be
he would meet you
somewhere though
danger comes
even in daylight.

Set upon,
his face bloody.
A sideways scar.
The parcel its
destination reached.
Startled children
in residence. *


The years at Winthrop
the corner building
off the elevated stop.
Remember most the solitude.
The storms within,
and within them the eye.
Ever more silence.
Those who didn’t
go away or stay away,
I’d sent back
where they came
with their well wishing.

Said I’d given up.
What a wind tunnel
North to south.
When the winds pick up
it’s like blindside
and the sidewalks
already narrow.

Find at this height
it is hard to breathe.
The oxygen seeping out.
The people I see
have no concept
of me.
Just those I haven’t asked
for money.

It seemed a matter of time.
I wanted a hookah
to supplement my wine.
Every morning on the wake up
scream out,
“what must I have done.”
I could make the window
without running. Jump. *

Do It In Luxury

Roxie got fingered
and that’s just fine.
She could barely
resist it the
first time.

So she comes
just to get it.
She brings Ruby along
to help her tell it.

When October come
and the children
throw stones.

Roxie is full of passion
over flow.
She’d come all this way
the educated men.
Leaves her panties 
she’s around them.

Roxie got fingered
her best gown.
“Do it in luxury,” she says.
Things are different
in these gardens.*

Love Fools

There is no proper etiquette
for fools.
The moods that
cause reaction
like speaking
in tongues.
Move our bodies
to the maximum.

In a December depression
back lighted
by an old lamp.
Those dresses you wore
with little pattern
or style.
Make up for it
with guile.

I purse my lips
for the grind.
Ruffle the fabric
for the lightning
in our loins.
Think of me
and history grasp. *


Beholden to my salvation
the fulgor of the sun
through yonder window.
Is affirmation
her absolute.

My love’s
tender mercies.
Her effete kiss.
The depth of my love
her recompense.
She comes same as she goes
with a pivot to her hips.
Stepping blithely
inspiration that.
Through the black door.
Black on both sides. *

My schooling
and work as
certified liar.

It means
I will not be
denied much.

It begins
with eyes on the prize
and the analysis

Certain points I cannot help
but belabor to make.
All the more ardent
she walk away.

My words echo
in the small space.
She does an about face.

The little restaurant
a family set up.
I have removed my hat
with a card
from my suit jacket,

I’ve started wearing
I’d seen you last.
“I’m educated now.”
She laughs at that.
She wants pretty things.
City boys for that.

A suddenly concerned
Hardened hearts
at the movement started.
Bedlam. *

In the days of duels
took place
sight the King.

With anticipation
he declare end to it.
All over the kingdom
they go to the gun.
The woman pleads for life.
How they fight polite society.

The drunk and uncouth
throw fists.
The gun quick end
to things.
They shoot half cocked
without discipline.
Matter between men
need only witness
to winner.

She pleads for life.
She may be betrothed
a different man
this night.*

Pussy Cat

I was the pussy cat
at your door.
In the maelstrom.
I took you at
your word
and wait in the gale
for it rather than
fight the children.

Humanity is to witness
the beautiful things.
Such as pussy cat stripes.
The cold of a
particular spite.

A sustained wind.
See the inner works
nuclear family.*

Broken summers
much like giving up.
Sleep until hunger
force me up.
Powerful hunger to rise up.
I never liked the summer.
Winter allows me
to cover up.
Flaws in the sun.

No summer luck.
No summer love.
No summer dresses
to look up.
And invitations to decline.
In backyards.

Since she’d gone
one summer to the next.
Summer solstice.
The longest days
the dog days.
No patching
the ozone up.
Threaten to
burn the willows up.

The winter has its wilderness.
Winter winds.
Frozen tears
to my chin.
Tears fall
without consent.
The summer then
melts the accumulation.

Since she’d gone
one summer to the next.
Blend into one.
It’s the summer sun
that cause headaches. *

Times I couldn’t wait
some deity to come.
Instead focus her shoulders
windows yonder.

The eye of the Holy Ghost
alight on her breasts.
Witness seeks blessing.
As well we have come
for wine in the pots. *


Forget I came along.
As you feel you must.
Forget me.
Then you must.
Regrettably yours

Everything between us
a baptism in the ages.
Wash away residue.
I ever moved you.

That I came along
and give you feeling.
Unremitting and the zeal
you purge me from
your recollection.
Better best for preservation.

If you must
forget me
then you must.
Regrettably yours. *

Everything For A Price

Wonder of wonders
what that be like.
Affect my quarry.
The tag along.
And not say
I’m sorry.
Regard is none.

Chased as I’ve
chased along.
Steady as it goes
no cause for alarm.
A ready bond as equals.

Wonder of wonders
what that be like.
Affect my quarry the tag along.
And not say I’m sorry. *


The dreams of…
Scenes of…
Deals with devil
Exhibition pride city wide.
Mad men choose weapon.
With the nights rattle for salvation.
Mouths opened and paged to content.
The truth bold and irreverent.
Mad Hatter.
Mad cap. *

I Could Eat You Alive

The lamb is tender.
The dressing piquant.
She will have basmati rice.
The dressmaker
is world famous.
I could eat you alive.

By the day
more eloquent.
Suffer his whim.
Gifts elaborate
suffer what he spends.
It comes with
the house wine.

The dressmaker
is world famous.
Leafy greens.
Tomato basil.
Sinister or sweet.
Wipe away memory of it.
A damp cloth.
Upper floor lavatory.
I could eat you alive. *

I sit at the end of the table
with my back to the half octagon window.
Jutting out onto the sidewalk.
She sits to my left.
Orders placed for dinner and drinks.
Shrimp shumai the appetizer.
The other patrons are waited on.
Dressed in sweaters and slacks.
Khakis. Suit coats. Formal wear. The ladies their dresses.

Currently it quite pleasant.
The western sky is in full view of you.
The setting sun, as if the pupils
form the center and the white temper
the flares.
I am thinking as I drink my cosmopolitan.
I would have to be quick
where her knees swing back and forth.
Nervous habit.
Leave a hand there long enough
at a steadier pace now
I get close enough to feel silk.
At a slower pace she feels the grasp on it full.
Decide where we stand.*

I ‘d thought the Gods
had given up as they are
wont to do.
Leave it to the fates
as the furies are due.
What favor retreat?

She let me feed
without violence
of copulating.
She cut a beautiful figure
in waiting.

I’d thought the Gods
had given up.
The Raven
The bird of state.
The furies and fates.
It takes siren
no patron saints.

Hardly angels to appeal
our better nature.
What favor retreat?
Feed without violence
She cut beautiful figure
in waiting.*

Get Yourself A Gun

Get yourself a gun.
In the rose garden
With thorns a warning:
Your affairs in order.

The boys tend the garden
not tend such wounds.
For the sake
a burial place.

Get yourself a gun.
Rose garden.
Take up the acres
Adjacent the

The Gods their
buskin humor.
My blood reach the roots.
The boys are meant to toil
not tend such wounds.
With thorns a warning:
A loud report. *


It must be nice to be wanted.
It last long as your words
go ‘round the track backwards.
It’s nice to be pretty if you can keep it.
Put on airs bleed out in rain.
City boys kiss and tell.
The way they tell it leave a taste.
Chastity never chaste.

With few attributes to offer they deplete.
With nothing to barter
when the wind carries the smoke.
A mixture of cannabis, stale incense.
Regarded like Shakespeare’s Wicked Sisters:
“Her choppy finger laying upon her skinny lips.
You should be woman but your beard
forbids me to interpret you as so.”

There isn’t elder speak for you.
At face value isn’t worth revival of dead language.
With the same breath speak of alien
and vampire myth.
In times past they would have your head.

As word spreads of your forked tongue
and kissing ugly women.
They kiss and tell.
The experience leave a taste.
Chastity never chaste. *

Summer Skin

There I am in
my summer skin
the winter bore.
Time again
like time before.
That time again
I crease your door.
Mine is love
but promise nothing.

What the winter bore
corpuscle taut.
What started in ’91 was not
at the end of a gun.

Seasons come early
the environment stays hot.
I proffer to marry
I say tarry not.
Mine is love
but promise nothing.*

Grand Apartments, Providence

Black doors.
Imagine the horrors.
There are spirits
in the tower.
A particular strand isolation.
The current occupant
And the woman before.

Is the violence and spook inside.
Trip over them get a breath.
Things she’s seen.
Things to raise hairs.
If it isn’t bed bugs.
Could be specters.

The loneliness if they would only stay
She come to her senses
and move away.

The lift bring us to black doors.
Find companion among vampire. 
Festival to deity.
When finally your quarry leave
Could be week or weekend.
However long it takes to conceive.*

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