No New Year's Day is complete without a Tu Fu ripoff:

New Year's Day, 2004

Wake to the new year alone, all
my old lovers in others' arms, as is
their nature, go to the mirror
& find more silver hairs, my stomach
always sour from wine & all those
doctors' useless pills. The infant
year, the new sun Phoebus Apollo thrusts
his bright lance thru the plum
of my heart, Apollo Lykeios who spit
in Cassandra's mouth to give her visions
is ridden by her own weeping ghost thru
my dreams, her barren womb
beside my thighs, giving birth to dire prophecies,
my priestess who shrieks in Apollo's temple:
these years pull us closer & closer together.

Watching the old year pass with friends & the children
of friends. Michael's Lucy draws bright
cats with rows & rows of wicked claws
& huge green eyes. I want her life to be
better than mine. I grow drunker & then
at last sleep, the voices of friends still
sorrounding me like a shimmering cloud.
This year my books my own young will go
into the world, I will give them shivs
& subway maps, tell them that someone
loves them.