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Wallace Stevens

You can compose poetry in whatever form you like. If it seems a seventeenth-centruy habit to begin lines with capital letters, you can go in for the liquid transitions of greater simplicity; and so on. It is not that nobody cares. It matters immensely. The slightest sound matters. The most momentary rhythm matters. You can do as you please, yet everything matters. You are free, but freedom must be consonant with the freedom of others. —Wallace Stevens, “The Irrational Element in Poetry,” Opus Posthumous: Poems, Plays, Prose (Alfred A. Knopf, 1989)

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