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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.


When Night's Blacke Mantle Could Most Darknesse Prove

by Lady Mary Wroth

When night's blacke Mantle could most darknesse prove, 
And sleepe (deaths Image) did my senses hyre, 
From Knowledge of my selfe, then thoughts did move 
Swifter then those, most switnesse neede require?
In sleepe, a Chariot drawne by wind'd Desire, 
I saw; where sate bright Venus, Queene of Love, 
And at her feete her Sonne, still adding Fire 
To burning hearts, which she did hold above,

But one heart flaming more then all the rest, 
The Goddesse held, and put it to my breast, 
Dear Sonne now shut, said she, thus must we winne;

He her obeyd, and martyr'd my poore heart. 
I waking hop'd as dreames it would depart, 
Yet since, O me, a Lover have I beene.

Note:  A recitation can be heard here.

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