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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.

20150505

West Africa, 2014

by Mark Olival-Bartley

My mask is misted; feet, aswim in sweat
it's thirty-seven centigrade within 
this thickly gilded condom of a suit
whose pissy, jaundiced hue engenders fret
among those safe outside and peering in
who gasp at vomit born of spoiled fruit.

Note:  A recitation can be heard here.

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