Several readers (including myself) left comments on his post, though I'm not sure that I'm any happier with their arguments than I am with his. The whole topic seems specious: I mean, prose and poetry are different. They do different work. They make the writer and the reader think in different ways. And it's not a new phenomenon for poets to write in other genres: look at Coleridge, at Swift, at Sidney.
Great writing is great writing, and crappy mediocre writing is crappy mediocre writing. As far as I'm concerned, that's the dividing line.
Dinner tonight: soupe au pistou, homemade melba rounds, apple-cabbage slaw. (This soup is a good choice for piano-lesson night because I can start the vegetable base before trekking off to the north and then quickly reheat it and add the pistou finish, which is basically mashed-up garlic, Parmesan, and herbs.)