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As the resident artist at EcoHealth, my verse these days finds inspiration in the specter of future pandemics; for my dissertation at Amerika-Institut of LMU München, where I edit a weekly circular of U.S. poetry, I'm anatomizing the prosody of E. A. Robinson's sonnets—I also teach English and tutor composition.

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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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