ONLY poems listed here or in the current printed anthology are eligible for the 2016-2017 competition.
The difficulty to think at the end of day,
When the shapeless shadow covers the sun
And nothing is left except light on your fur—...
With thick strokes of ink the sky fills with rain.
Pretending to run for cover but secretly praying for more rain.
All night the sound had
come back again,
and again falls...
We were very tired, we were very merry—
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable—...
O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody ...
After reading Ash Wednesday
she looked once at the baked beans
and fled. Luncheonless, poor girl, ...
A lot of it lives in the trachea, you know.
But not so much that you won’t need more muscle:
the diaphragm, a fist clenching at the bottom....
Retired ballerinas on winter afternoons
walking their dogs
in Central Park West ...
I acknowledge my status as a stranger:
Inappropriate clothes, odd habits
Out of sync with wasp and wren. ...
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