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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 and edit circulars on poetics and composition, I'm anatomizing the prosody of Robinson's sonnets—I also teach at MVHS and lead the Amerikahaus Literary Circle.



by John Milton

Methought I saw my late espoused saint 
       Brought to me, like Alcestis, from the grave, 
       Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave, 
       Rescu'd from death by force, though pale and faint. 
Mine, as whom wash'd from spot of child-bed taint 
       Purification in the old Law did save, 
       And such as yet once more I trust to have 
       Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, 
Came vested all in white, pure as her mind; 
       Her face was veil'd, yet to my fancied sight 
       Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shin'd 
So clear as in no face with more delight. 
       But Oh! as to embrace me she inclin'd, 
       I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.

Note:  A recitation can be heard here.

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