About Me

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Born and raised on O'ahu, I now live in Maxvorstadt. As the resident poet at EcoHealth, my verse finds inspiration these days in the specter of future pandemics. For my dissertation at Amerika-Institut (LMU), I'm anatomizing the prosody of E. A. Robinson's sonnets. I also tutor writing, teach English, and lead a book club.

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George Crabbe

by Edwin Arlington Robinson

Give him the darkest inch your shelf allows,
Hide him in lonely garrets, if you will,--
But his hard, human pulse is throbbing still
With the sure strength that fearless truth allows.
In spite of all fine science disavows,
of his plain excellence and stubborn skill
There yet remains what fashion cannot kill,
Though years have thinned the laurel from his brows.

Whether or not we read him, we can feel
From time to time the vigor or his name
Against us like a finger for the shame
And emptiness of what our souls reveal
In books that are as altars where we kneel
To consecrate the flicker, not the flame.

Note:  A recitation can be heard here.

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