At this point, having draped it over so many hundreds of my mornings, I'm not sure I can say whether Richard Skelton's skeletal, aching, oceanic
music inspires my writing or just accompanies it. What I can say is that the space it creates, the world it evokes--a whistle in the grass, gray light on green water, faces in dark spaces in trees (
"How to Like It"-
Stephen Dobyns)--is the world in which I go wordpicking. And whatever walks there, walks beside me.