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As the resident artist at EcoHealth, I pen verse these days inspired by the specter of future pandemics; for my dissertation at Amerika-Institut of LMU München, where I edit a weekly circular on poetry, I'm anatomizing the prosody of E. A. Robinson's sonnets—I also teach English, tutor composition, and lead a literary circle.

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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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