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MOST RECENT OPA NEWS

  • Oregon Poetry Association Poetry Contest Spring 2020 Winners

    OPA congratulates all the winners below, and thanks them
    and all the poets who entered for sharing their work.

    www.oregonpoets.org

                                          Contest Chair: Stella Jeng Guillory

    Poet’s Choice — Lynn Otto, Judge

    1st Place: “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” by Barbara Blanks, Garland, TX

    2nd Place: “Arachnidæa: Line Drawings” by Stephen Pollock, Mebane, NC

    3rd Place: “Mind Gloss” by David Hedges, West Lynn, OR

    Honorable Mentions

    1st Honorable Mention: “Missing” by Suzanne Sigafoos, Portland, OR

    2nd Honorable Mention: “Women’s Day at the Sauna” by Michelle Williams, Portland, OR

    3rd Honorable Mention: “Facing Backward on the Train” by Dan Kaufman, Central Point, OR

    Members Only — Andrea Hollander, Judge

    1st Place: “Cradling Dad” ... Read all of this item.

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LATEST BOOK REVIEW (EXCERPT)

  • Bee Dance by Cathy Cain, reviewed by Paul Telles

    Bee Dance by Cathy Cain

    The Poetry Box (June
    15, 2019), 87 pp, $16

    ISBN #: 978-1948461221

    Available at: https://thepoetrybox.com/bookstore/bee-dance

    In Bee
    Dance,
    Portland poet Cathy Cain brings a fresh take to one of the most venerable
    themes in modern poetry: the troubled relationship between the natural world
    and human society.In 51 tightly crafted poems, Cain explores her theme
    from a full circuit of perspectives, contemplating such issues as the link
    between poetic creativity and natural genesis, the alienation engendered by
    digital technology, and the generative power of women.

    From its very first poemHint of Hexagon, Bee Dance leaves no doubt about
    its primary concern: the lack of harmony between nature and human creations.
    Read all of this item.

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MOST RECENT POET’S SPOTLIGHT

  • 2020 Spring Contest Winners: Members Only: 3rd Place Winner

    May 28, 2020

    Dawn Donuts

    Dan Kaufman

    I didn’t figure my universe then

    as donut shaped, a single surface torus,

    iced. Predawn, I’d slip the grip of her Berkeley bed

    for Petaluma in my postal blues,

    two donuts waxy-sacked beside me

    as I drove the arc of an exitless bridge,

    my fingers licked innocent, obeying

    what I couldn’t kick. Clocking in,

    then endless letters later out, my sleepless body

    spent. Those days I plied a quirked geometry,

    her siren spacetime folding me into confection,

    sugar shapes that jacked my flexes. One maple,

    one glazed, empty sweetness from Derby Donuts,

    the sticky disorienting business