I was teaching A Midwinter's Day to my students. I explained the concept to them: a book-length poem relating the events of a single day, written on that same day. I was trying to get them to see why that might be difficult, since logically the poet would have be sitting down all day and writing it, leaving no time for the actual experience of the day that she was writing about.
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Later that night, in a dream that seemed to last all night, I was scoring a film (or the days of my life), but having problems maintaining a consistent approach. Every new measure seemed to require a change in key signature or musical approach. It was labor intensive, exhausting, and perhaps the least restful way of sleeping imaginable.
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