All of this excess movement, need
to create, chest shakes,
snort, scratch, and cracking joints,
and tension too —
Begins with a lack of satisfaction

I figured that creativity and 
restlessness went hand-in-hand
Better, they were inseparable, the same
Now my arm
is so still
that two flies
mistake it for a branch

Poetry can snatch at passing
buzzing energy and
end in still-life
But eternal works 
begin with stillness.