It is always pleasant to learn that someone takes an interest in a work which one enjoyed writing

It is always pleasant to learn that someone takes an interest in a work which one enjoyed writing

What are the questions you wish to ask?

Looking at the sky last night and the moon in the first fresh dark, just a few stars, bright with their cold flares, I had a little crumpled thought, 'Oh well, the moon. It's just another place like California.' One's imagination drags its feet as we are inexorably hauled into the future.

However, if a poem can be reduced to a prose sentence, there can't be much to it.

It seems to me that readers sometimes make the genesis of a poem more mysterious than it is (by that I perhaps mean, think of it as something outside their own experience)

One tends to write beyond what's needed