Trying to make a poem fit into a page limit, I cut out all the stanza breaks except the one that seems essential. The result: two enormous stanzas, one of forty lines, one of twenty. Now if it was 40:30, it’d be some kind of gargantuan sonnet: an enormous poem in the proportions of 4:3. But I still think it’s a cool form.
Stanza breaks mean so much less to me now. It’s like everything I write could go as well in couplets, or triplets, or whatever. This is a state of affairs I never could have imagined when I was eighteen.