ONLY poems listed here or in the current printed anthology are eligible for the 2016-2017 competition.
The American eagle is not aware he is
the American eagle. He is never tempted
to look modest....
I lov’d thee from the earliest dawn,
When first I saw thy beauty’s ray,
And will, until life’s eve comes on,...
The word itself: prim, retired, its artifact
her portrait above the fireplace, on her face
the boredom she abhorred, then perfected, ...
In his fifth year the son, deep in the backseat
of his father’s Ford and the mysterium
of time, holds time in memory with words, ...
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry....
In the steamer is the trout
seasoned with slivers of ginger,
two sprigs of green onion, and sesame oil. ...
I know what my heart is like
Since your love died:
It is like a hollow ledge ...
Echo that loved hid within a wood
Would to herself rehearse her weary woe:
O, she cried, and all the rest unsaid ...
Surrounded by bone, surrounded by cells,
by rings, by rings of hell, by hair, surrounded by
air-is-a-thing, surrounded by silhouette, by honey-wet bees, yet...
It is a dangerous thing
to forget the climate of your birthplace,
to choke out the voices of dead relatives...
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