About Me

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Mark Olival-Bartley studied applied linguistics at Hawaii Pacific University, attaining B.A. and M.A. degrees in Teaching English as a Second Language, and poetry at the City College of New York. He is now writing a dissertation on the sonnets of E. A. Robinson at LMU, where he tutors composition alongside editing flyers on poetry and style. His poems and translations have appeared in journals on both sides of the Atlantic. He is the resident poet at EcoHealth, where his science-themed verse is regularly featured, and a senior copyeditor at Review of International American Studies. He also teaches at Münchner Volkshochschule and leads the Amerikahaus Literaturkreis.



by John Milton

On the Late Massacre in Piedmont
Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones 
       Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold, 
       Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old, 
       When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones; 
Forget not: in thy book record their groans 
       Who were thy sheep and in their ancient fold 
       Slain by the bloody Piemontese that roll'd 
       Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans 
The vales redoubl'd to the hills, and they 
       To Heav'n. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow 
       O'er all th' Italian fields where still doth sway 
The triple tyrant; that from these may grow 
       A hundred-fold, who having learnt thy way 
Early may fly the Babylonian woe.

Note:  A recitation can be found here.

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