She was the one that you’d forget to invite
Not out of dislike but because she lived just out of sight

She was the shadow that infers the sun
Blinked in the only picture that showed her face
You’re not alone if you do not recall her
I’d forgotten that time she sat next to me

The party was nothing to remember
Sept’ that when I said hello,
she simply touched my hand then ran away

I’d forgotten about Georgia
But I guess Georgia never forgot about me

At least that’s what her mother said
When she asked me to speak at the service
To lay poor Georgia down
She told me Georgia mentioned me in her note

She had loved me from afar
One touch of my hand and tears in the dark

To which saint should one pray
For a life lived astray
with a song in heart and smile upon their face
Unencumbered by others perceived disgrace
Where will this man be sent
for never praying the rent
On a soul they all say comes pre-stained
And can only fly free if restrained

None have ever loved except you and me
We live alone atop this mountain
We see those in the valley
All convinced they are on high
But we alone have that view
And when they truly see our love
They are laid bare
Like a child suddenly aware that Santa is not real
What they believed to be true was a lie
Their love will never feel right again
Always feel lacking
Less
Inferior
We have ended so much lesser love
Simply by allowing them to see our love
True love
The love of poets and madmen
The love unreachable
It is unreachable because it is ours
Not theirs
We occupy this perch
together as one

my statement broke her right along the glue lines
when I called my new poem an abortion
we spent the rest of the night in a frenzy
making mosaics from pieces we could salvage

i was afraid that she would never be whole
but the aftermath of our shared work gave birth
to a sunrise that shown so very brightly
she steeled herself to rise and meet the new day

So I sat silently singing songs
that moved no air
                           but blew in my mind like a hurricane
that altered no view
                            but maybe my own
that stained no soul
                            but mine and mine alone

a thought I had nurtured
that had grown
polished and pure as a pearl
created by the incessant irritation
due to its unfinished nature

this is the wonder
that pushes my pen
like a mugger in the night
this thought took from me
and left a lacking in its being gone

This space ached to be filled
and thus the story begins
not with the idea
but with the wake and the ripple it left
in its passing through my soul

It was as if nothing had suddenly
been granted life
it was no longer a formless concept
but a beast breathing mist upon my soul
it is mine; me; now us
kind of like not being 20 feet tall
is mine; me; now us

so now sit words before you
set down by a part-time poet
using nothing as his muse
(not any nothing, but the
loud stomping echoes of nothing
sneaking unceremoniously out of my mind)
as each leaves it is replaced
by another mist breathing beast
and so it starts again
with a different colored nothing

and so it goes
like waves
                  one
                           after
                                     another
coming from places unknown
going to die on a beach unseen
it ends with a final powerful embrace

the wave dies on a beach it knew it would love
even though
it had never seen its often touched sand
and when the act of blind(ing) love
is done
the beach sits and waits
for its next ****** lover

You could have said anything
But you said ‘I love you’
When what you meant was
‘You make me feel important’

and so it goes
like waves
                     one
                             after
                                       another
if you know waves
(and I've known a few)
you know
they start to become a wave
[or what we (or should I say I) call a wave;
who knows what they call themselves;
if in fact, they do
call themselves anything.  
but  I am drifting now.]
hundreds of miles from
shore.

all of that power
all of that motion
all of that water
[which, by the way, is all
different water.  
do you see?  
a wave is not just
one wave
but rather a series of
continuing associations.
do you see?]

it all comes (or goes) toward
a beach it has never seen.
it (they) roll head (crest) long on.
on to meet its (their)
never seen sandy lover
and at the end
there is that final
powerful embrace.
and with the act consummated,
the power is now all of ours
it is free
thrown to a breeze
blowing untamed over the land