線路沿ひ　声や紅き葉　星に落つ

Beside the railbed
A weary voice – crimson leaf
Falls into the stars.

Salutations, I am Roman Pasquill, hailing from Schenectady on the Macquaa Kill. At Albany, where I spent my youth in university, I studied the art of linguistics and anthropology, before taking a tryst with the teaching of English as a second tongue. From there I found myself six years lost far-far east, in the land of the Ainu among the Japanese. The things that draw me to the puzzling patterns of language are the same that pull me to dance, to sing, to hear a bit of Pushkin in a baseball game. Perhaps this explains my particular fondness for the phonology of rhythm, pitch, and prosody – the music imbued in even the most mundane speech. Out in the world, you may find me at the piano, tuning a bike wheel, or casting a verse along old rails.

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