Hangover 1.1.2019, sam sax
I was incredibly hungover on the first day of 2020, so this felt appropriate. If you haven't read bury it by sam sax yet, do that. Do that immediately.
Hangover 1.1.2019 leans into some elements that bury it (and to a lesser extent, madness) also circles around: line breaks up the wazoo, sonic work for days. Associative leaps from concrete image to concrete image that create this brilliant little ghost narrative.
I like this poem for the same reason I like a lot of sax's work. Each line, stanza, grouping, is an anchor, but there's a lot of room for the reader to swim around.
Anyway, this is how I felt today and I don't know if you can say something better about a poem.