Where the B Sticks

Sticks the hapless B again.
Usily my day egan;
Now a uzzing in my rain
Spells the ruin of my plan.
I was alanced on the rink,
Great works urgeoned in my wits.
I was in the mood to think;
Now that mood is town to its.
All my rare creative lust
Came aruptly to a stop.
Lasted e the thing that ust.
I must take it to a shop;
They will mend it y and y.
Meanwhile, how to earn my read?
Where the B sticks there stick I,
As the Ard of Avon said.