ONLY poems listed here or in the current printed anthology are eligible for the 2017-2018 competition.
In the middle of rolling grasslands, away from lights,
a moonless night untethers its wild polka-dots,
the formations we can name competing for attention...
If I speak for the dead, I must leave
this animal of my body,
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true, ...
Think of a sheep
knitting a sweater;
think of your life...
Leaguered in fire ...
Curtains forcing their will
against the wind,
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