ten nine

speaking of stutters
they’re all in fingertips, an
excuse,

the anti-rhythm of patience,
of directions i’m moving in.

move for
movement’s sake;
move because stillness
is still stifling &

sometimes you have to
shake that creative
juice
loose

prep those fingertips
for a nimble
numb untie
of the

noose

knot

really a
noose but the
daytangle of
monotonous schedule
& all that

adult responsibility
three hundred dollar insurance
coverage, cobra
slithers away
with so much of my
money.

spits in the eye of
every escape plan
i just
can’t sir.
cancer.

so you gotta have it,
gotta keep plugging away
at the everyday

for pay
the grey

turns to
gray

& you
stay.