Marc Mannheimer Poems

A house
of stone and glass,
built above the ocean,
reflects the sunlight
...

I saw a picture of her a year ago,
my one time brown-eyed girl.
She looked like she’d hit the pavement,
I guess like the rest of the nation.
...

Some tears taste
like pure, clear spring water,
despite the salt,
and despite the fact that you know
...

black wings, outstretched
glistening in the sun;
orange beak
testing, tasting the air
...

my hands

all over these words,
...

my plague name

was Gary
...

out, out,

out on Erie,
...

It’s easy to look beautiful
When everything’s in place;
Your hair, your eyes, your perfect smile,
Your job, your house, your gorgeous guy.
...

The last time I saw my first therapist
she was standing at the door waving in her red dress
She was a middle-aged lady, a little plump, no hint of gray
Her mood was always moderate; she seemed to be on top of it
...

On a weekday morning,
with free time on my hands,
I stopped in the record shop
at Tower City, downtown Cleveland,
...