From the Editor

Thank God for poetry that takes misery and makes something beautiful out of it. Indeed, so much spiritual longing lies in
of the agony of separation between the Beloved and the Lover. And pain lies in other experiences as well. In fact, depending
on how you look at anything, so much can be heartrending. A flower radiates enormous beauty but it soon dies; a relationship
can take you to the highest of plateaus, but it eventually changes, or ends. What lies beneath? What's the silver lining? Undying 
principles are what make great poetry touch a wide audience. And these principles point to a higher power, giving a glimpse
of the divine. I really love poetry that weaves in and out of light and dark. Especially when the author is courageous enough
to explore those part of themselves that are very authentic but reflect the paradoxes that define the human condition. This
month I am happy to have found some such poetry to post on Subjective Substance!

Analysis - 

I'd like to deconstruct a poem, and thereby show what meaning I construct out of it, and why I like it so much. If you would
like to comment on a poem, please send over your essay, and if it's appropriate, I'd love to publish it!

The Red Wheelbarrow 
by William Carlos Williams

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

Read it again. Slower this time (smile).I like this poem because it represents an idea, but conveys it mysteriously. It conjures 
an image, and then lets the image take on a life of its own. It's all about brevity and power and wisdom. This poetry was 
one of the most famous of the works of this poet, who helped transform modern American poetry in the last century. 

The mysterious tone is set early with the assertion that "so much depends upon." [something]. The questions naturally arise:
"So much of what?" Happiness? The state of the world?; and "Depends on what, exactly?" The picture en toto? The objects 
specifically? Instead of an answer, we are given a familiar image. Either in their past or in their consciousness, everyone can
relate this to something out of their own experience. Farm life, such an essential  part of our common history, is here 
canonized. And with his assertion, Williams is letting us know that there is a powerful draw to the pastoral life.

I love the mystery and guessing what it is an author is alluding to, of reveling in my unique and yet somewhat shared
interpretation of the poem. Words may be written by the poet, but poetry by its vague and multisensory nature, allows us 
to claim the poem for ourselves. Every perspective is "right". Indeed, when we read our favorite poems,
we may feel that if we had the skill, we would write those very words.

To me, the opening means that so much in life depends on these kinds of moments, these unadulterated visages of pastoral
life. It also plays with the idea that so much of our perception relies on impressionistic observations. That so much of
memory is made up of so few objects. Memory, when we think about it, really is composed of snapshots. We don't recall
"life" in excrucating detail, but more often as stories and as impressions. Prose and poetry fit these bills, respectively. At 
another level, it reminds me of how concretely important these very objects are, and the stories that lay behind them: The 
wheelbarrow is not just a wheelbarrow.

Structurally, the poem is thoughtfully and admirably constructed. And it works, as it flows when recited. Note the beautiful
symmetry. The syllables go 6-5-5-6. Four words in each stanza. The stanzas were made for one another, as they unfold neatly. 

The poem is a perfected sentence, really. Yet, the lowercase throughout drives us away from the notion of prose, with its
capitalization and punctuation. Williams wants us to pay attention to how he is saying things.

Williams has selected every word carefully. For instance, why does he say "a" red wheel barrow instead of "the?" Why is it
"glazed" and not just "wet?" Why are the "white" chickens "beside" and not just "next to" the red wheelbarrow? 

With an economy of astute words, a.gorgeous and serene picture is painted in our minds. In a flash, we read this poem, 
and it instantly evokes powerful feelings. It reminds me of a rural place that maybe I saw in my travels as a boy, or that
exists in shared cultural consciousness. It even hints of something perfect and unattainable, like pardadise. There is not a 
person in sight, but subtle hints of life. It's not quite a still life, but it's not about a particular person, either. It's about the
harmony of nature and humanity. 

I hope you enjoyed some of the elements that I love about a favorite poem of mine. Poetry is not just about subjective
substance. It is an art form, wiht all its nuances and brilliances, a gift of our Creator. And we are discovering its wonders
anew every month. I encourage you to discover the wonders of God's creation not just in the substance of the poems,
but in the way that subjective reality is captured in the hypnotic rhyme of a poem. And that is a wonder of the highest
caliber. Great poetry gives me chills.

It is also my privilege to announce the great poems that lay in this issue. Maybe in a future issue we will see one of these
poems written about. Enjoy!

Omar Azam