Philip Lamantia

P
Philip Lamantia
Blue Grace

crashes thru air
where Lady LSD hangs up all the floors of life for the last time
Blue Grace leans on white slime
Blue Grace weaves in & out of Lüneburg and ‘My Burial Vault’ undulates
from first hour peyote turnon
Diderot hand in hand with the Marquis de Sade
wraps himself up in a mexican serapé
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The Islands of Africa
to Rimbaud Two pages to a grape fable
dangles the swan of samite blood
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A Little Washington DC Dream
The Due D’Aumal’s cannonballs
Are being marshmellowed 370 years from their masonic inception
Now lie on the Potomac
The Due D’Aumal’s balls cannonaded
Split
Through mirror teeth Washington D.C.
Black City of white rectangular bits of fear
Blown fluff of fear
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Meadowlark West
Choppers in the night husk the brilliants of thought
Beyond the cities of patina grow caves of thought
Coyote Hummingbird Owl are rivers of thought
The lumens the pumpkins dance: pits of correspondence over the land
Birds the dream tongues warble Iroquois Mojavé Ohlone
Market Street of “The Mad Doctor” via the occult centers
A gang of fox spirits at the crossroads
Bandoleros set between the obliteration of grizzly bears painted by an Arcimboldist and the monstrance of bleeding chains
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Witness
Because the dark suit is worn it is worn warm
with a black tie
and a kiss at the head of the stairs

When you hear the dark suit rip
on the heart’s curb the hurt is big
rose flesh caught on the orange woman’s buttons

As you talk metropole monotone
antique intelligence
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