ONLY poems listed here or in the current printed anthology are eligible for the 2017-2018 competition.
For the earth has spoken,
to you, her magma Creole.
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...
Berkeley psychologists told Harold
his anger was justified. What parents
let their child go for a midnight walk...
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...
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