ONLY poems listed here or in the current printed anthology are eligible for the 2017-2018 competition.
My darling turns to poetry at night.
What began as flirtation, an aside
Between abstract expression and first light...
My father in the night commanding No
Has work to do. Smoke issues from his lips;
He reads in silence....
My mother saw the green tree toad
on the window sill
her first one...
The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death: ...
My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
My feast of joy is but a dish of pain,
My crop of corn is but a field of tares, ...
One by one they appear in
the darkness: a few friends, and
a few with historical...
To cure myself of wanting Cuban songs,
I wrote a Cuban song about the need
For people to suppress their fantasies,...
It’s the mystery of the hunt that intrigues me,
That drives us like lemmings, but cautiously—
The search for a bright square cloud—the scent of lemon verbena—...
The day was mild, the light was generous.
The German on the café terrace
held a small book on his lap....
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