On writing, No. 1

I try to write at least one sentence a day.
It’s a slow, leisurely space,
This pace,
And I
Will,
Of course,
Finish last,
In this Whores race
But what else can I do?
I can only sow as fast as I reap,
I can only reap
As quickly as they grow
And they grow slowly,
Watered by my tastes
Visions and delusions,
Ineptitudes,
Failures,
And dreams.