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Friday, May 30, 2008

Now I know how Keats must have felt.

I was having such a rotten day, I just wrote a poem that rhymed. It didn't start out rhyming, but by the time I woke up in the middle of the night and tweaked a few lines, I realized it was well nigh a sonnet. If I can just manage to sustain this mood all weekend, I could have a terza rima. And if not, well, it's a win-win situation.

But I think I really needed this for my thesis, having chosen (what I'm coming to realize) is probably the only poetry program in the country that favors form over free verse. But it was a good program; and I probably needed that rhythm in my head. Who wants to learn stuff they already know? That's depressing enough to inspire a sonnet.

Wouldn't it be funny if I wound up a formalist, after all?
Nah, 'twas a passing fancy, I think.

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