ILLEGAL GALLERY PRESENTS: "Witness by Philip Lamantia"
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 as you dress wounds by peyotl looming the boulevards women hunt their children from you who look out lit still inside of a dark suit








