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Thanks to a residency at EcoHealth, my verse these days finds inspiration in the specter of future pandemics; for my dissertation at LMU München, where I tutor composition and edit a poetry weekly, I'm anatomizing the prosody of E. A. Robinson's sonnets—I also teach at MVHS and lead the Amerikahaus Literary Circle.


For My Contemporaries

by J. V. Cunningham

How time reverses   
The proud in heart!   
I now make verses   
Who aimed at art.

But I sleep well.   
Ambitious boys
Whose big lines swell   
With spiritual noise,

Despise me not!
And be not queasy   
To praise somewhat:   
Verse is not easy.

But rage who will.
Time that procured me   
Good sense and skill   
Of madness cured me.

Note:  A recitation can be heard here.

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