Form appears to promote form, even formalism. This would be consistent with other experiences. Or form appears in lieu of other possible responses.
Mere form. Responsible form. Answering form. Solution form.
Can form solve anything? Well, it is a solving, a solution to a question. The pillar supports the roof. The roof secures the house. The house answers other houses in being a house, whereas a non-house might not answer. Or, it might. We need details.
Form is being, though the reverse is not necessarily true. Being is coming into, in, or falling away from form. Why do I write in form? I write in form to concede that reference point as a favor to the reader, and to give myself the option of coming into, being, or falling away. Do I believe in form? I believe in being (coming into, being in, falling away, re-forming, etc.).
I find that my mind and feelings move independently of opportunity or clear suggestions for profit or improvement. I am not a daisy, but I can relate. I am not the color blue, but I can see the point or points of blue, coming into, being in, and falling away.
One might think form = thought, but my poems are only sometimes thoughtful. I make a point of that. I have seen poets employ the block/box form to posit instances or expositions of the form of thoughtfulness. This is a common employment. I have done that, and I have done otherwise.
I do not believe that poetry is a reliable venue for thought. It is very reliable for the experience of thought, or the relation of a person in thought, or the spectacle of what thought might declare for itself independent (or successive to, sometimes amidst) the thought experience.
I am a classicist. I would know my tools and the land I work - my neighbors and the seasons; and I hope I attend to my family and their needs. I would live well and die well, with honor, leaving things better than they were or had I not been.
I am very out of touch, so I have on hand as a phantom business card this classic apology, that I do my best with what I know and understand. I examine my motives. I correct and fail and re-correct. I seek, arrive (perhaps) and am lost. I try again.
I have given up in many respects on my writing being interesting or useful. Perhaps this is my service, not to be relevant, or a threat to others, or a problem beyond being lost.
So, I do this, but I am not dependable for anything here, not really. It could change utterly, I suppose, or disappear. If it is useful, well, that's great. But the credit would go to whomever can make use of it. I am merely following the course of the logic I am capable of and my personal experience.
I am not a daisy, or the color blue. I am not even close.