ONLY poems listed here or in the current printed anthology are eligible for the 2017-2018 competition.
they thought the field was wasting
and so they gathered the marker rocks and stones and
piled them into a barn they say that the rocks were shaped...
Always the caravan of sound made us halt
to admire the swinging and the swift go-by
of beasts with enormous hooves and heads ...
My darling turns to poetry at night.
What began as flirtation, an aside
Between abstract expression and first light...
My mother saw the green tree toad
on the window sill
her first one...
The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death: ...
My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
My feast of joy is but a dish of pain,
My crop of corn is but a field of tares, ...
One by one they appear in
the darkness: a few friends, and
a few with historical...
To cure myself of wanting Cuban songs,
I wrote a Cuban song about the need
For people to suppress their fantasies,...
It’s the mystery of the hunt that intrigues me,
That drives us like lemmings, but cautiously—
The search for a bright square cloud—the scent of lemon verbena—...
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