Interior Suck of the Night
by Philip Lamantia
simple as a a cone
interior suck of the night
blood shot eyes of my geni
As the first branch of clouds hang for the infinite
I go across streets with candles aimed for lost windows
your nothing engraved on a cherry button heart
your smile folding over the tables of the law
in a butterfly’s dream
windows open on broken stem of pipe
of the marvelous and you! my innocent!
a shadow encrusted on a light beam
the daughters of your eyes!
I see the salt spoon of the sibyl’s you crooked
my hair my threads my nails with!
from Ekstasis, Auerhahn Press, 1959