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Tuesday, February 18, 2003

Watched, more like witnessed, 8 Women. To me, although I know the point was a satire of the movie musical, the action seemed rather stiff, although it had its moments of lightness.

Am reading John Tranter's The Floor of Heaven at the moment, a book-length narrative... It's interesting to ponder at what point the desire to narrate supercedes the need, when confronted with the poetic task, to write a line of poetry. To what extent does utility, the mechanics of moving forward, win out over the poet's right to rhapsodize?

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