ONLY poems listed here or in the current printed anthology are eligible for the 2017-2018 competition.
Learn from the man who spends much of his life speaking
To the back of your head knowing what it means to follow
The barnacle is rather odd —
It’s not related to the clam
Or limpet. It’s an arthropod,...
The warping night air having brought the boom
Of an owl’s voice into her darkened room,
We tell the wakened child that all she heard...
Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,...
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fatal lightning of his terrible swift sword: ...
Back when I used to be Indian
I am standing outside the
pool hall with my sister....
i must be careful about such things as these.
the thin-grained oak. the quiet grizzlies scared
into the hills by the constant tracks squeezing...
Be music, night,
That her sleep may go
Where angels have their pale tall choirs...
What if I didn’t shoot the old lady
running away from our patrol,
or the old man in the back of the head,...
The moon drops one or two feathers into the field.
The dark wheat listens.
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