i.
no love songs, now...no lost, no forlorn
no love songs to the mourn
awake (too late) mind racing,
words floating images roiling...
a poet's heart made empty,
boxing shadows in the dark,

a broken dreams club
a bell echoes

ii.
(like a boxer past his prime
sitting in his corner head hung, bowed,
slips his gloves and examines taped knuckles
as though they, too, have defeated him)

a bell echos
a broken dreams club

iii.
the muse abides, and, perhaps, at least
the poet may regain his voice but for now -
no love songs, now...
no laments, no elegy

a bell echos
a broken dreams club

iv.
every poets' muse -
fall in love, absolutely, true love is, for him,
the embodiment of his muse, indistinguishable,
the goddess, manifest in her absolute glory
and the woman, made her instrument -

a bell echos
a broken dreams club

v.
*what do i see?
a bowl with a quarter and a pocketknife
a lamp
a clock with dull red numbers glowing
a book of verse
and in the distance

a bell echoes
a broken dreams club