The Great New Year

Is it the height
of the holidays
that brings me down?
The discounted chocolate?
The fact that the champagne
remains unopened?
That Midnight is hiding away,
likely full of fleas?

Or is it my slobbishly low
ebb of activity that invites
whine, whine, whine?

An untensing of tightened seasonal nerves.
So much let go for the sake of externals.

Less is not always more
though more is still less.

Why do I have to feel
it so strongly
to make anything?


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