ONLY poems listed here or in the current printed anthology are eligible for the 2017-2018 competition.
Travel is a vanishing act
Only to those who are left behind.
What the traveler knows...
Go to the western gate, Luke Havergal,
There where the vines cling crimson on the wall,
And in the twilight wait for what will come....
Child, when you’re sad put on your blue shoes.
You know that Mama loves you lollipops
and Daddy still has a job to lose....
No eye that sees could fail to remark you:
like any leaf the rain leaves fixed to and
flat against the barn’s gray shingle. But...
A silver Lucifer
cocaine in cornucopia...
Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
Blowing like a leaf in green shadow. ...
Let my music be found wanting
to yours (as it must)...
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