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As the resident artist at EcoHealth, I pen verse inspired by the specter of future pandemics; for my dissertation at Amerika-Institut of LMU München, where I edit a weekly circular on poetry, I'm anatomizing the prosody of E. A. Robinson's sonnets—I also teach English, tutor composition, and lead a literary circle.

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CXXXIV


by William Shakespeare

So now I haue confeſt that he is thine,
And I my ſelfe am morgag'd to thy will,
My ſelfe Ile forfeit,ſo that other mine,
Thou wilt reſtore to be my comfort ſtill:
But thou wilt not,nor he will not be free,
For thou are couetous,and he is kinde,
He learnd but ſuretie-like to write for me,
Vnder that bond that him as as faſt doth binde.
The ſtatute of thy beauty thou wilt take,
Thou vſurer that put'ſt forth all to vſe,
And ſue a friend,came debter for my ſake,
So him I looſe through my vnkinde abuſe.
   Him haue I loſt,thou haſt both him and me,
   He paies the whole,and yet am I not free.


Note:  A recitation can be heard here.

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