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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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Keen, Fitful Gusts are Whisp’ring Here and There

by John Keats
Keen, fitful gusts are whisp’ring here and there
  Among the bushes half leafless, and dry;
  The stars look very cold about the sky,
And I have many miles on foot to fare.
Yet feel I little of the cool bleak air,        
  Or of the dead leaves rustling drearily,
  Or of those silver lamps that burn on high,
Or of the distance from home’s pleasant lair:
For I am brimfull of the friendliness
  That in a little cottage I have found;        
Of fair-hair’d Milton’s eloquent distress,
  And all his love for gentle Lycid drown’d;
Of lovely Laura in her light green dress,
  And faithful Petrarch gloriously crown’d.

Note:  A recitation can be heard here.

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