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InterBoard Poetry Competition
Honorable Mentions, September 2001

THE POWER OF GLUCOSE INVERTED
      Porcupine Smith
      (About Poetry Forum)

It seems
So crucial
So critical
So God awful urgent
And then She...
Lets you
And then She...
Gives you
Every...
Little...
Thing...
And in that moment
Immediately after
The only thing
In the world
That matters
Is Art
And Poetry
Is again
The most important
And crucial
Of things
Then
After
Half an hour
The invert sugars
In the blood
Start to again
Feed the brain
And slowly
But surely
All that She has
Every...
Little...
Thing...
Starts to again
Become
Of inordinate
And monumental
Importance
Never
Underestimate
The Power
Of Glucose
Inverted
Comment from Judge Joan Houlihan: “Great pacing, momentum, fresh, smart, humorous. Lines need to be re-thought, the 'skinny' form doesn't enhance the content.”


ROLL ANOTHER ONE
      Shann Palmer
      (Blueline)

That stone isn't big enough,
have you seen his followers?
Possessed, everyone of them;
not a clear eye in the bunch.

It's a martyr they'll be looking for,
selling bones, blessings, or curses,
it was a hasty burial, but that shroud!
Smooth as Lydian cloth--expensive.

Any leaks and the smell will get you,
your food be leaving one way or the other
for the dogs, I put attar on my lips
camphor keeps away the flies.

I hate these people, their vengeful god,
another year and I'll see Rome again.
I don't even know who to look out for,
the priests might come, they have schemes.

Take watch tonight, it's their Sabbatum,
the Hebrews won't venture far, it's a holy time.
I'm experienced, I'll take tomorrow night,
though I doubt anything will happen.
Comment from Judge Joan Houlihan: “Credible narrator, wonderful irony. Voice-driven, compelling 'other side of the story.' Some awkward places, needs a good edit (e.g., everyone = every one, periods vs. commas, 'your food be leaving', etc.).”


HUMIDITY
      Carole Barley
      (Wild Poetry Forum)

Seemingly endless, this August rain,
fashioning rats-tails and the scent
of electricity in treacle-humid air.
The wipers flail, damp palms finger
gearstick with some smiled upon urgency;
Interior windows misted.

You say you do not care for warm rain;
I see a kneeling in ocean scented grass.
Thigh inside thigh, rivulets rounding
shoulder, growing heavy; slowing,
crazing down the switchback of your arm.

I do not care for gray myself,
prefer the terror of cumulonimbus uncertainty.
Touchpaper, flint.
Counting the seconds to myself
between the flash and the thunder.
Comment from Judge Joan Houlihan: “Lots of sharp, compelling imagery, great momentum, authority of voice. Needs a bit more work on arrangement, tightening of lines. Also, first line beginning with cliched phrase harms it.”



About the InterBoard Poetry Competition
Archive of IBPC Winners
First Place Winner, September 2001



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