This particular offering was written for my religion class. It is an analysis of William Carlos Williams'
poem entitled, The Red Wheelbarrow. It is one of my favorite poems. The reason there are no capital
letters in this paper because there were no capital letters in the original poem. I was trying to express
creativity and I think that I succeded. The original document had a title page with copyright information
on the back of the same page and thus was the origin of Outside The Box Publishing. Here follows the
paper in its entirety minus the cover page and back:

what difference is this going to make in my life? would somebody please tell me how poetry could possibly
be valuable to me in the world of big business? all ed really wanted to know was why his moronic english
teacher was so enthusiastic about poetry. mr. clark had been going on and on about poetry for three weeks
now and he acted like it was actually something of value. he figured that writing in rhymes wasn't all that
hard. after all, eminem can do it and he doesn't seem like the brightest bulb in the box, how hard can all
this stuff be?

"okay class, now let's start a new poem. this is one of my personal favorites, it's the red wheelbarrow
by william carlos williams. it's not long at all so i expect everyone to read it and have some sort of
opinion tomorrow for class." mr. clark went on his incessant monotone. he really liked the poem and tried
his best to teach it to the children but it seemed to him like year after year, fewer and fewer students
actually grasped the true meaning of the poem. just then the bell rang and it was time for the class to
be dismissed to go home.

ed drove home in his usual daze just thinking about what he had for homework and little else. he got home
and went to watch tv for a couple of hours. he figured that he could start his homework at about eight
and do some of it. he could just copy the rest.

after the end of his final program for the evening ed reluctantly retreated to his room in response to
his mother's goading. he made a command decision to do only one of his homework assignments, but which
one would it be? well, that was an easy enough decision; all he had to do for english was read one stupid
poem.

hmm, let's see here it is. what is this junk? all this is is one sentence broken up into eight lines.
what is all this supposed to mean? so much depends on a red wheelbarrow glazed with rainwater beside
the white chickens?! this guy must have been smoking some pretty interesting stuff to come up with this.
what's more amazing is that people actually think that this is some kind of art. huh, after all this time
it turns out that mr. clark was some kind of pot smoking hippie, go figure. all right let's see an opinion,
hmm, opinion. well if he asks me I'll just say that I thought that people are reading too much into this
and it really means nothing at all. ok, that was easy enough, time for bed.

the next morning was just the same as every other one. get up at 6:30, take a shower, eat breakfast,
get dressed, and go to school. everyone was doing the same in their respective houses and ed was no different.
on his way to school he heard the new jay-z song and, just like almost everyone else, thought it was the greatest
thing since sliced bread. hey, it was on the radio so it has to be popular, right? the day that followed
flew by without any exceptionality. and, lo and behold, english was last on the schedule. good, ed thought,
i can just sleep through last period then the day is over.

ed got to class, took his seat, opened his book, and closed his mind to any outside influences.

"ok, class let's get started. i think we left off with the beginning of the red wheelbarrow, right?
ok first, since i doubt that everyone read this last night i'll read it aloud to everyone. ahem, so much
depends upon a red wheelbarrow glazed with rainwater beside the white chickens. ok now let's see who
had an opinion on this. hmmm, ed, what was your take on this poem? ed? are you even awake?"

uh-oh, i should have seen this coming. this jerk always calls on me when i'm daydreaming. wait a minute,
i know the answer to this.

"umm, i think that it really doesn't mean anything." ed said, bracing himself for the angered words
of mr. clark.

"really ed, why's that?"

oh *@%& i think he's trying to bait me so he can make me look like more of an idiot. i'll say it anyway
just to see how angry he gets though. this'll be fun. "well you see i think that people just read too
much into this, mr. clark. i think it is simply the ravings of someone who isn't right upstairs, you
know what i mean."

"i was hoping you'd say that, ed. but, if it was what you say, would it be in our english book?"

"well i'm not one to judge before all the facts are in but i'd have to say that whoever edits these books
isn't too bright anyway. every year we go over the same st-"

"ed i'm trying to make a point here if you don't mind. like i was saying, i was hoping you'd say that
because that's what most people think of this poem. there's a reason this is in here and it's not to
take up space. the first thing i want everyone to look at in this poem is where the breaks are in the
lines. one of the characteristics of williams' style of poetry was the way it was presented to the reader.
in order to fully comprehend this poem you have to ask yourself why the author put the line breaks where
they are. in this case the poet places the line breaks very deliberately and meaningfully. take the
break in the second stanza, for example, when it is read it comes across as a red wheel. the reader has
pictured in their mind a red wheel, but if you continue, the next word refines that image even further
to that of a red wheelbarrow. that was the purpose of the whole imagist movement. they believed in
providing the reader with a complete image of just one thing. they didn't set out to describe the whole
world, just one image. back to the poem, if you notice every subsequent line makes the image of the
wheelbarrow clearer and clearer.

"the poem may make the image of the wheelbarrow clear but williams uses the line breaks to convey his
message to the audience. you see if you read the poem line by line instead of as one sentence it is
obvious. look at the last stanza, the first line is beside the white. well, beside the white what?
the only image that the reader has is the color white, but if you read on you learn that it is in
reference to chickens. why do you think that williams decided to play around with such images like
that? anyone?" mr. clark's questions were answered by only blank stares. one of those stares,
belonging to amy anderson, was staring out the window, however.

"so amy why do you think that williams decided to play with words and cause the reader to have many
different images in the process of describing but one?"

"huh? what exactly are you asking?"

"next time try paying a little attention. what I want to know is why you think that the red wheel barrow
basically messes with the reader's mind in describing one picture?"

"oh ok, i understand, but i still don't know, sorry." Amy said sheepishly

"that's ok i know it's a little confusing. the only word needed to explain why williams did this is
'perspective'. i know we only have a few minutes of class left but i want to get this across. williams
is trying to say that so much depends on how you look at things, like the red wheel and the red wheelbarrow.
the addition of six letters completely changes the picture of that scene. when you picture it being glazed
with rain you probably picture a torrent of rain, whereas it being glazed with rainwater you generally picture
it with the sun shining and generally a nice day. so you see what the author is trying to say is that it
all depends on how you look at a situation. and how you look at it depends on what you see. questions?"
there actually was one! someone might be getting this stuff.

"yeah do you actually expect us to believe that the author meant any of this when he wrote this?" another
student, jimmy, asked. it was a question that met with giggles of approval from the class.

"no i expect you to believe a lot more than that but that'll have to wait for tomorrow's class. tonight
i want everyone to think about the poem again and have some questions for me tomorrow." just as he finished
the last sentence the bell rang. he really was getting good at timing these things after all these
years.

again ed did the same thing as the previous day. tonight he opted to english as his one subject. it
wasn't that he liked english, or even took any interest in it, it was just the easiest homework he had
that day.

the next day was yet another day, like any other, just the same old routine, but no new songs on the radio
today. the day began interestingly enough however, english was first and he didn't go in unarmed today,
no he had his question all ready from the night before. he knew what he would do to get mr. clark for
sure. he entered the class and took his seat, just like any other day and proceeded to daydream just
like any other day.

yeah this'll get him to call on me for sure ed thought to himself. when he calls on me i'll be ready
with my question and i'll finally have him stumped. man, this is going to be so funny when he looks like
the idiot. just then mr. clark walked into the room and started his lecture.

"ok class i know last night's homework was easy enough so who actually did it? well there's only one
way to find out, ed do you have a question for me regarding this poem today?"

"oh yeah, you bet i do. seeing as how this is a catholic school and all, don't you think that this whole
perspective thing could be extended to mean that God, and the concept there of, are open to interpretation
and there is no objective truth in regards to that?" oh yeah, that'll wipe the smug look off his face.
i bet he won't bother me anymore when i'm sleeping now, hehehe.

"no, ed you're wrong. that does bring up an interesting point about perspective, though. you see by
his wanton use of ambiguity one could be led to believe that since so much depends on perspective that
there is no such thing as an objective reality in life.

"just look at the way he plays around with the images that his words produce. if so much depends on how
you look at things then life becomes a lot more subjective, right. think about it, one person may see
beauty where another person sees just the ordinary. who is right, then? both are right, and both are
wrong. it all depends on how you look at the situation at hand. they may see beauty and plainness and
you may see something so appalling it may make your toes curl. again, it all depends on perspective.
people argue over things like this without realizing that the only difference they have is a difference
of perspective and that in and of itself is natural. it only becomes wrong when you force your perspective
on others. ok, any other questions? i want to get to everyone before we run out of time. ok amy what's
you" and so mr. clark just trailed off to ed.

ed hit the brick wall of realization even before mr. clark was finished. it hit him just like that too,
a brick wall. it forced him to take a step back from his present reality and look at his surroundings.
it was almost as if the poem was speaking directly to him, he could see it all right now, and it was a
scary thought. he realized that there is no such thing as objective reality in the traditional sense
and that frightened him very much. it made him realize for the first time in his life that maybe, just
maybe, everyone didn't see the world like he did. he finally realized that maybe there was more than me
the eye, as people had so often told him.

but even this reaction brought on another feeling. it seemed to ed that he was looking at the world
through new eyes. he could see everything around him with a new clarity that he had never achieved
before, so powerful was the thought that mr. clark had planted in his head. he could see the poem as
it was. he could see it as what williams had seen. the red wheelbarrow had such vividness that he felt
he was really there.

it was almost as if he were having an out of body experience with this. it completely transcended the
poem to something more important. not the poem itself but what the poem meant. he had no idea how to
express it at the time but it was as if he was the wheelbarrow but yet he wasn't. he saw the wheelbarrow
with such clarity that it couldn't possibly be described.

just then he did what was the most amazing thing to him. he looked outside at the tree that was growing
next to the window. it was as if he was looking at a completely different tree. it took a bit of time
for him to become aware of it but to him at that instant in time that tree was the most beautiful thing
in the world. nothing could compare and he was noticing things that he had never noticed before; all the knots
in the wood, the way that the branches looked at the point where they came out of the tree, all the way
to the way that the leaves swayed in the gentle spring breeze. just then the bell rang and snapped him
out of his semi-consciousness state so he could go on to math class. he walked out into the hall on
just another ordinary day.

mr. clark sat in the faculty room and ruminated on the previous class. he saw the glazed over look in
ed's eyes and at first mistook it for random daydreaming. but no, he had gotten through to at least one
student this year. besides, if there was at least one student he reached that made it all worth it then.