"They laughed when I sat down"

I insisted
that I write
about things
near and far
here and there
at times
in the present
at times
invisible.

As the days shrink
from eternities
to minutes
of course
what I make
gets better
and better

Yeah, the days shrink
making it easier
to aim
when jumping
through hoops
and such
but harder to
hold onto
the more
slippery moments.

What used to refresh
with one breath
now requires
some shut-eye
a mandatory
siesta.

Upon awakening
I'm rife with answers
and greedy for
new material
but the sun goes down
pretty damn quick
bringing a
sticky sap
of fatigue.

I'm hoping
this here state
isn't permanent
that I'll get back
to where
I was before
brimming with
energies unknown
potential without limit
a creative machine
self-oiling
self-repairing
where minutes
just don't count.

looking like Adonis
or at least like Theseus

But
(fingers crossed)
I won't forget Ariadne
in some bar
leaving her
to nurse some
stupid umbrella drink
and knit scarves
as I go forth
to fight another
with sharp horns
hairy mantle
and big balls.


I have no license or even a good reason to write what I write-it should be harder and maybe it reads like junk, but it is truly mine-without the benefit of years of training or a "style," it's still mine.
The photo is a detail shot from a sculpture called "Too Big." The wooden "window" that the figure looks through is from an old farm grain hopper. The manufacturer of the hopper is stenciled onto the wood.