from Landscape with Bedsocket and Winds
poem by Tony Mancus
it’s a long waltz to where we lay down
and the shade is only one side
where we’re crazed by things we forget
three wings make the flood rise
how swiftly our disguises are measured
a pair of binoculars: rose-throated
finches bloom at our looking
what opens beneath the field
a courtroom for seeds
I something its doing in the back of my head
I open up
cavity
the tears come
clamp forms its wit
out of wood and what grabs
two shapes like a pocket
the heart for
one fist will get together
with uniformed syllables
in all its fingers
(not to be sylla-
da-dum
dum-duh-dum
dum-duh-deedle
bullied anymore)
the flag’s a tired machine
whose letters can’t even wink
such glass in them
& seeing through
their compartments
to kindnesses of drawers
junk in all its gathering
my mind
my mine for your pot
& brittle bones (I mean mine)
the sleeping nettles are hardest
to find & remove
habitats natural softener
We wake the dark without arms
(into)
——–
Tony Mancus