About Me

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As the resident poet at EcoHealth, my verse finds inspiration these days in the specter of future pandemics. For my dissertation at LMU's Amerika-Institut, I'm anatomizing the poetics (especially the prosody) of E. A. Robinson's sonnets. I also teach at Münchner Volkshochschule and lead the Amerikahaus Literary Circle.

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XX

  Ashamed sometimes, my lady, that I still
cannot express your beauty in my rhyme,
I wander to that sweet and distant time
when you alone gained power of my will.
  But even there I find no guiding skill,
no strength to scale a height I cannot climb,
for such a task demands a force sublime,
at whose attempt I fall back, mute and still.
  How often do I move my lips to speak,
and find my voice lies buried in my breast—
but then, what sound could ever rise so high?
  How often in my verses do I seek
to find the words my tongue cannot express,
but pen and hand are vanquished with each try.

Francesco Petrarca, Canzoniere,
translated by Marion Shore.


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