manic’s playground

a manic’s playground is            my mind

entrapped within a jungle gym of ludicrous joy

buried deep within the soiled sands of plunging sorrow

an unbalanced act atop the high top

the too quick and slick descent of my                sanity upon the slide

the cloying sweet-rancid smell of the tire swing

as i hold         tight

sickened-spinning-dizzy from deciphering what’s real              what’s not

more than enough

though i feel the points and juttings

as i toss and turn and knock about

my fingers still seek and sink into

the weighty dough

and though at times i peer at spindly

i beg the Fleischer

and promise soft to pay him dearly

and even sometimes i breathe in

and glimpse reedy

but there is no question

of how

at noon’s call

how needy

how so very, very greedy

it gets…

and though you tell me

to really see

and to see what you see

i see only me

and that

i am more than enough


beheld

i saw her

nestled in cream

and frilly icing

i saw her

plain and overlooked

forgotten-ripe

i smelled the heady scent of possibility

i inhaled the dizzying fragrance of fantasy

i heard her piqued protests

her soft and thought-filled hmmms

her escalating laughter

her stifled tears

her silent sighs

only a welcome phone call away

only a night’s drive away

only an arm’s length away

yet never held

just beheld.