"In solitude" [sonnet impromptu]

The morning lates   I'm woken by the phone
a credit card requires prompt attention
I read the screen in solitude   alone
(a redundanty?   I've little apprehension

anent redundancy per se   repeating
as Gertrude Stein uniquely seemed to show us
holds possibilities   for freshly meeting
a meaning hidden   petal-like   below us)

why do I write?   (whom do I dream I'm kidding?)
have I arrived at last   at the conclusion
of fantasy?   what were existence bidding
in ego's auction?   where's my root confusion?

it's Friday   love!     tomorrow's Christmas eve!
we'll celebrate?   while winter's cold   why grieve?

---

I should not wish to limit the association of Gertrude Stein (nor for that matter, her apparent ideas about repetition) merely to her most famous utterance. But the Wikipedia treatment of that latter turns out to be quite good (hence the hyperlink & this note).