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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Song of Myself

by Walt Whitman

9


The big doors of the country barn stand open and ready, 
The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn wagon, 
The clear light plays on the brown gray and green intertinged, 
The armfuls are pack’d to the sagging mow. 


I am there, I help, I came stretch’d atop of the load, 
I felt its soft jolts, one leg reclined on the other, 
I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and timothy, 
And roll head over heels and tangle my hair full of wisps.

Note:  A recitation can be found here.

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