Man on a ledge

Out here on the edge
I get to sling
arrows of outrageous misfortune

out on my ledge

I perch feet clenching
survey cyber city central

pity the stench
the perfume of posuers

a jabber of multiple rows
a yap yap yap

all present & correct
in gaping gravity well

it sucks

and, yes.

its funky

many times i've flinched
my sickle cell nerves
reacting to the prick test
arm bands of reddened flesh

a swastika virus
takes time dividing
inside of you

But the bottom
of my feet
have bitten the dust
hardened into oblivious future
easily led down the garden path
and back again

That pretty little Temp
who worked at the insanity desk
has left the twin tower
via the smoke full blackened open window

a restrctured reformation
Hope gains familiar momentum
Monkey descends from heaven

a new sonnet is born
as i await

atom bomb rising sun