POEMLESS

when it's just not happening

when there is no grace
no light
no words

when one is empty
distracted
unfocused,
abandoned by his angels
and his gods

when even his
demons
with all their mischief
fail to inspire

when the muses
have left him
for poets younger
and brighter,
for lovers freer
and more beautiful,
for artists
whose journeys
are only beginning
or those in
the very midst of
ecstasy
or chaos

when no
song or book
touches the heart
and no memory
sparks the mind
and no lover
catches the eye
or touches the soul

when no word
seems adequate
for the page
and the page
remains indignantly blank
and the hours
tick by
and not even the shadow
of inspiration
passes through
and one wonders
what made him think
he ever had anything at all
to say