A Poem for John Wieners Written on His Paper
by Philip Lamantia
Who’s the white Lady ?
can you answer — I cant make it
who’s the white lady ?
We walked in yr room talking of the white lady
we walked round yr room with the white lady
It came, I fell back to the white lady
we made it — what turned on in our heads ?
We go thru a Door of Heroin
and it is poetrie
— there must be some way OUT
— the answers are infinite
I await the sum total
of answers flung back to me
in the sea where I become something else —
White lady turning around in yr room
talking of us! A dream! I float the log
of chance, Fortuna — a bad shot —
it’s alright, Mercy is ours
— we scored!
previously unpublished; circa 1959