re: Q

Which poem makes the most difference? Perhaps the answer is obvious. The Red Wheelbarrow, by William Carlos Williams. Not because it is anything you couldn’t write yourself, or because it contains everything in the world, but because in its simplicity, it opened something up inside me, and still does. It’s almost delicate in its overbearing fecundity. I can barely look at it today without wondering what made Mr. Williams think this was a poem? And how could it not have always been with us? Lovely.

Keep moving. That’s my advice for you. And do not listen to anybody who doesn’t make your heart sing.

Blessings.