“This morning I took out a comma and this afternoon I put it back again.” — Oscar Wilde
I have done this. I have done this actual act, as well as many other “trivial” changes to a poem.
I have altered a line break by one word, and returned it to the first break.
I have changed a word, changed it back, come up with a third and fourth word, juggled the choices, and come to the conclusion that the first word was fine: it’s the following word that needs to be changed.
There is no logical reason. This is poetry, not geometry, and no two poets would make the same set of revisions. It’s not supposed to make sense to anyone but me. Half the time it doesn’t even make sense to me.
For instance, one of my poems uses the word gray several times. Now, in the US, either gray or grey is considered an acceptable spelling for this word. But in this poem of mine, grey looks and feels wrong, wrong, wrong. It would ruin the whole work in my eyes. It has to be gray with an A.
No logical reason.
I read somewhere that Elizabeth Bishop would tack up poems with one blank space for months until she had just the right word. I’m not sure I have that much patience, but I can understand.
Today, embrace your illogical microtinkering, and I will try to embrace mine.
Here is today’s picture prompt: