ONLY poems listed here or in the current printed anthology are eligible for the 2016-2017 competition.
If but some vengeful god would call to me
From up the sky, and laugh: “Thou suffering thing,
Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy, ...
There’s just no accounting for happiness,
or the way it turns up like a prodigal
who comes back to the dust at your feet ...
when i went to summer camp the white kids had a tendency
to shorten names of important institutions. make Northwestern
University into NU. international relations into IR. everybody...
What is a woman that you forsake her,
And the hearth-fire and the home-acre,
To go with the old grey Widow-maker? ...
He lived—childhood summers
thru bare feet
then years of money’s lack ...
If you undo your do you would
be strange. Hair has been on my mind.
I used to lean in the doorway ...
Here they are. The soft eyes open.
If they have lived in a wood
It is a wood. ...
I sigh for the heavenly country,
Where the heavenly people pass,
And the sea is as quiet as a mirror...
The snail moves like a
Hovercraft, held up by a
Rubber cushion of itself, ...
All Greece hates
the still eyes in the white face,
the lustre as of olives ...
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