Self Possessed Man at Suicide Bar

Self possessed man trying to find meaning walking edges of world

Digital camera by his side ventures out at night taking self portraits

self timed camera on ledge posing cigarette at lip fists clenched

camera flashes he deletes images makes final edit uploads them

on Facebook for moment forgets what it’s like to be human jacks

off after making eye contact mind fucks men outside reality’s

perception strangers on street sidewalks public transportation

pulls no punches arrives from sea on fire his mind is the L stop

during rush hour Mondo New Yorkers come after him thinking

he was David Johansen he’ll serenade you ask Sarah the waitress

at Parkside Lounge that Sunday when Jane Ormerod honored

Brant Lyon all the poets fell apart in drunken splendor he grabbed

microphone began singing song he didn’t know song he opened

his mouth hoped it would sing itself but there was Sarah standing

joy of a girl words parted his lips with melody others fell flat in

imperfection but wow whirlwind of song he walked a line ended

with name Sarah suicide bars where people go to drink themselves

dead started with water then built into abominable combinations

slouched in arms of Lucy dancing slowly something Irish on jukebox

sounded Irish but another bad imitation of The Pogues he danced until

he fell apart girl spat at him poured liquor over his body put his arm over

her shoulder they disappeared music played Johnny Cash White Stripes

women sat in corners bellies fat from drinking dollar drafts Mona Lisas

wronged by men who took them through Guernica they wanted to be

Frida Kahlo tame the bull that was Diego Riviera

New Poem

Kofii Fosu Forson

You are a house on fire words made of wire spoken for but you play

the field chasing house wives who go walking after hours to shop for a hit

Glass doves buying malt liquor hang by counters makeshift wino bars

At corner where mad men piss each other off night covers stench of day

Phipps Housing Project flames burn you refuse to jump reading a book

Parts of the book catch fire slowly burning a book called One Hundred

Years of Solitude another book The Unbearable Lightness of Being

So sit there read focus on these words as buttons to your shirt unbutton

Cologne smell takes on different smell blazer heats up skin grows warm

Sweat begins to form crackling sound in the corner television turns red

There is no smoke alarm fire station shut down due to lack of funding

So this burning house becomes source of light for people night walking

Women looking for love picking up men young Latinos black thugs wait

For fame spit clever rhymes dance hip hop style clutching gold chains

That was then you are diseased overcome by neurosis sex has no cure

Animal wolf howling beyond Bellevue East River hell over Brooklyn

Wards on Rikers remain still silence haunts subways trains maintain

Schedule people sit in cars face each other look away read newspapers

Thoughts of a man on 2nd Avenue burning disturbs their conscience

He stands twelve floors tall windows for eyes black simmering smoke

Pours from his roof flesh from his scalp slowly peels is it the end of us

Life as we know it other apartments people are sleeping restaurants open

To colored lights as well dressed men and women come to wine and dine

Sky is electric violet dark purple somewhere someone commits perfect

Crime you sit reading close your eyes now open them the house burns

down you walk off into the night where other houses burn brightly