About Me

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Mark Olival-Bartley teaches English, tutors composition, trains teachers, and advises a literary circle. He studied applied linguistics at Hawaii Pacific University, attaining B.A. and M.A. degrees in TESOL, and poetry at the City College of New York. He is now anatomizing the prosody of E. A. Robinson’s sonnets for his dissertation at LMU Munich’s Department of English and American Studies, where also he edits a poetry weekly. His poems and translations have appeared in journals on both sides of the Atlantic. He is the resident poet at EcoHealth, where his science-themed verse is regularly featured, and a senior copyeditor of Review of International American Studies.

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9 February 2013


by Mark Olival-Bartley

What I would like to tell you on this day,
which breaks in Munich with a snow-lit glow
that both obscures and clears the late sun's way,
so different from the mornings that you know,
where mynahs fill the sky with screechy bray
(and render your pet rooster tame and low)
as you face mauka, cigarette in hand,
enjoy your coffee, briskly brush the sleep
away, and watch the color come to land
upon the Ko'olaus enfolding sweep,
the marvel of their orange and pinkish band
that turns to grand and verdant ridges deep
in shadows:  Happy seventieth, and
I love you, Dad.  Let's let this moment keep.

Note:  A recitation can be heard here.

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