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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.

20160809

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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