ONLY poems listed here or in the current printed anthology are eligible for the 2017-2018 competition.
I spied everything. The North Dakota license,
the “Baby on Board” signs, dead raccoons, and deer carcasses....
How many times these low feet staggered -
Only the soldered mouth can tell -
Try - can you stir the awful rivet -...
Sometimes I long to be the woodpile,
cut-apart trees soon to be smoke,
or even the smoke itself,...
The last full moon of Februarystalks the fields; barbed wire casts a shadow.
Rising slowly, a beam moved toward the west
stealthily changing position...
The way a tired Chippewa woman
Who’s lost a child gathers up black feathers,
Black quills & leaves...
Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run, ...
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