the sorriest root is one, is singular, and that defies human condition
the root of all sorries is human, though witness the face of the singing bird in the mouth of the cat, the car in the seconds before the wreck, the stain after the fruit, a cold egg, an abandoned musket, the last of the giant fauna laying down among the ferns
all through our eyes and what reflects there, a pin in the brain, marbleized fat in the cut meat and the sorry hand that bared the blade, doused in kerosene
These steps one can take to measure the impact of their language on others – how it combines and collates a string of other reactions to events that may or may not be directed and controlled by them through history or fragmentation. o the notion of dissemblance. o the mothdust as the bug gets swiped along the wall next to the light.
sorry future wings and sorry past wings and sorry sorry before the station changes its tune.
Say the monologue and then put your hand next to someone else’s. what heat there is yours? Say the part about the broken record and put your turntable downstairs. turn your repetition on and on on on and o.
Say the easiest thing about forgiveness is saying you’re sorry.
you’re sorry welt you’re sorry bent-out-of-shape wall. you’re the sorriest hole who’s ever been cured. i’m so.
Tony Mancus is the author of a handful of chapbooks including Bye Sea (Tree Lights Books), City Country (Seattle Review), and apologies (Reality Beach (forthcoming)). He lives with his wife Shannon and their yappy cats and serves as chapbook editor for Barrelhouse.