Crafty Daedalus died. He was amazed.
One string, and he'd have puzzled his way back
To hearth, a home with labor-saving gadgets,
Self-bashing bulls and wax-free candlelight.
The little ingenuities of less
Do just as well: the patent problem is
A property of all and everyone.
Somebody's master, Theseus was, the crazed,
Plucking his string with singing and a snack
To lull the bull. He loved his cutting widgets
And classy sandals. Daedalus was right
To leave: force made a master of a mess,
Cleverness for the little properties,
A princess coming, and the bull was done.
This appeared in The Flea.
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