I like what I do.
Mostly it is at other times.
Those times when I sense
I achieve something.
Of course achieving
means finishing.
Usually it happens
when I run out of space
on the surface I work.
What concerns me right now
is how much space
I have left
in my mind and whether
there's enough left
for my inane thoughts.
Inane because the other ones
I already have put down
either on paper or
virtual screens or
even accidentally
on tangible things
like porcelain, or wood,
or clay, or canvas or plain
white spaces
that for some reason
are always available
on the pages
that carry advertising.
It's like their maker
had me in mind.
~~~
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem