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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.


Astrophel and Stella


Let daintie wits crie on the Sisters nine,
That bravely maskt, their fancies may be told:
Or Pindare's Apes, flaunt they in phrases fine,
Enam'ling with pied flowers their thoughts of gold:
Or else let them in statelier glorie shine,
Ennobling new found Tropes with problemes old:
Or with strange similies enrich each line,
Of herbes or beastes, which Inde or Afrike hold.
For me in sooth, no Muse but one I know:
Phrases and Problemes from my reach do grow,
And strange things cost too deare for my poore sprites.
How then?  even thus:  in Stella's face I reed,
What Love and Beautie be, then all my deed
But Copying is, what in her Nature writes.

Sir Philip Sidney

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