About Me

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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 M√ľnchen, 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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All you that hear in scattered rhymes the sound
of sighs on which I used to feed my heart
in youthful error when I was in part
another man, and not what I am now,

for the vain hopes, vain sorrows I avow,
in tears and discourse of my varied art,
in any who have played a lover's part
pity I hope to find, and pardon too.

But now I plainly see how I became
a mocking tale that common people tell,
and in myself my self I put to shame;

and of my raving all the fruit is shame,
and penitence, and knowing all too well
that what the world loves is a passing dream.

Petrarch, Canzoniere;
Translated by Anthony Mortimer

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