Sample Poems by Edward Manzi

My Cause

My cause is mango trees. I believe in fresh fruit for all every day. It is why there is a sun with My Little Pony flying across its face, it is why there is a salamander in my Lucky Charms, it is why there is an elephant on my back porch standing next to the grill waiting for me to cook him a cheeseburger with caramelized onions. In the circus there are plenty of peanuts and the way the elephant grows at the circus is absurd, stop feeding him peanuts, he told me he prefers cashews just like you and I are the navigators of the earth separated by space suits, the dome our heads are encased in and the way we can see ourselves in the canvass of the field that has not yet been sown. The way the mango tree wishes it would grow in a field of asparagus, there is a way the way we can perceive the roof and the snow that is on the roof, the snow will melt the roof will not, there is something in the way the fly perches on the hamster wheel at the correct time, the time the hamster is sleeping in the toilet paper card board tube right next to his little shits resting on the wood chips, fly feet curled round stainless steel, butter knife slabbing butter on a friendly English muffin, smiling muffin, Blue Jays bickering out the window, smiling muffin, Blue jays bickering, sunny side up egg will suffice as a road flare.

We Met

We met in a foggy-windowed ATM that dispensed Ritz crackers. You wanted cheese. We met at an empty grey sky ocean-side boardwalk where an old lady dressed in a purple velvet jump suit walked an iguana on a diamond leash. You wanted to pet the Iguana. The old lady would not let you. We met on a Ferris wheel lit up by blinking orange lights synchronized to a continuous xylophone solo, crescent moon hanging from the dark heavens by green mint dental floss. You wanted to clean your teeth. We met on a strand of worm DNA - worm we stuck a hook through, hanging two feet below a red and white bobber. You wanted to sit on the bobber in the breeze. You brought a basket of Mackerel on Rye; heads and filmy eyes sticking out beyond crust. You said the eyes were the best part.

Pressed Butterflies

When the yellow flowers grew out of your ears they grew upward toward the sun and butterflies fluttered from your eyes, circling around your head, landing on the flowers for a few minutes before drifting off up high and bouncing in the air above the dirt road to the highway where a rainstorm pulled them down to the pavement, where cars and trucks ran them over.