Tony Mancus


woolly things make good form, a forum
what you say for hearing, some built beds
and others badlands out of crushed velvet

others still a pier that jettisons your folding body,
the tack of gum-soled shoes told feelings
before saturday morning began with great pain

one time i heard a gunshot
and sawed my hand
went missing

one time i built a saw
out from a branch
of trees, the sun crooked
in all their teeth

my face forgot itself in
a lake and so what
winter, there’s no use

washing all the pillow cases,
they’re holding other headstills now,
proving no cloth keeps
our privates holed in all the polaroids
burning on windowsills

across each state lined with flurries
of email, absence, tyrant-quit cigarettes
and steamers full of broccoli

furniture is not an age of change
an agent neither does one mistake
for what one makes whole

rainshowers collapse into waterstains
two stories down

it takes a volume problem
takes a level, bubble sprung
force and the locus of hands
in deep pressment to shot-clip this scene

one thousand first thoughts
and a lamp to rub
swell with wishes,
to rust out the machine

Tony Mancus is the author of a handful of chapbooks, most recently Again(st) Membering (Horse Less Press) and City Country (forthcoming from Seattle Review). He and Sommer Browning co-founded Flying Guillotine Press in 2008. They make small books. Currently he works as a technical writer and lives with his wife Shannon and their two yappy cats in Arlington, VA.
PoetrymarkcTony Mancus