self portrait

 the artist has awoken

 to his daily grind

 a puzzle soon unbroken

 runs within his mind

 laid upon his sheets

 of oil pastel and base

 were measures tempos beats

 enunciating grace

 his vast wardrobe of scenes

 the patterns and the tails

 beautifully woven into genes

 or sewn upon his sails

 while the public peruses

 a feeling starts unbroken

 it really quite confuses

 but thoughts are soon provoken

 for what he had laid

 the sculptures he had pined

 he would not be paid

 nor contract ever signed

 on the objects that he chooses

 he must have some perspective

 whether it angers or amuses

 he must remain subjective

 his favorite thing you'd find

 near him just in case

 always is a paper lined

& only briefly, empty space