Barn Burned Down

I have felt very down recently for a number of reasons, primarily work, though work, like most things, connects pretty closely with my writing sometimes. I am coming down off of a very productive streak--five poems start to finish since December--and now, as I knew would happen, I have hit "the wall."

When I get like this I over react to most things and sit around brooding, worried that I'll never write again, that the poems I've just finished are shit, that the whole thing has just been a joke and that all the other poets are locked up in a closet somewhare, laughing thier asses off while crumple up page after page from my tablet. The funny thing is that I know that at some point there will be a turnaround, and that when I hear other people express the same type of feeling I am pretty intolerant of them.

So today starts off in the dumps--work, but mainly a few poems I just can't get with, one in particular. And just as I was rocking my son to sleep it hit me--a way to pass though this major roadblock (all I have to do is change the title, then I'll be able to do what I am trying to do in the poem). I rush to my computer, check email, and come across this quote from a member of a listserve of which I am a member:

Barn burned down. Now I can see the moon.
--Basho

And this line helps me even more, rescuing the poem from oblivion, rescuing me from a night of Law & Order reruns.

So I guess I'm giving thanks.