First Place
All things are not ordered
By Catherine Moran
We want to think they are.
Geese fly with their noses pointed south.
Saturn turns rings around the other planets.
Frogs hide and copulate under lily pads.
But the only order is living and un-living.
That is all.
Einstein worked the last years of his life
trying in vain to prove that the laws
of magnetism and mathematics
could solve and predict all known phenomena.
But he could never admit,
even to his shirtsleeve,
that a chance occurrence could occur,
a fluke could happen
that would blast all intricate calculations
to shreds.
No.
To him everything followed a pattern.
But the pregnant universe is expanding.
A galaxy can and does explode before its
time,
and the shock waves
curl the ends of earth's hair.
We twist and dominate our own space
as far as we are able.
And then,
a meteor jettisons into the front den,
a
virus rips a hole in our best suit,
or a lover slaps us into yesterday.
We try to juggle order
like glistening balls of mercury
that, in spite of our best efforts.
gradually dissolve in our hands.
We end up
a silent pickpocket whose only fortune
is a trace of silver on every finger.
Second Place
The River's
Edge
By Marcia Wall
moonlight reveals our longing
in the outline of
our naked bodies
you find me
like fingers of the Mississippi
stretching towards the Gulf
I imagine swamps
lying quiet and still
in the dark night
I imagine Bayou St. John
winding its way
through the heart
of our city
I imagine the waters at Grand Isle
where
you learned how to swim
and of the hurricane that almost
drowned us all
I trust you to know me
like a river knows its course
to realize that even the levee
can break
when rain falls
swift and hard
Third Place
Observations from the Sidewalk
By Angie Ledbetter
An early morning wren lifts off, flies
with intense concentration away
from the littered sidewalk toward
an elderly elm's arm. That scaly lush limb
must feel like heaven's porch
to the small avatar, a woman thinks.
From her own perch, a secret place
at work away from noise and people,
she envies the bird its flight,
imagines a life of such freedom.
A kamikaze pilot, the wren nosedives,
pulls something from a trash pile,
climbs upward, banks left, aims
again for the mossy green canopy.
Now a primer gray prop plane
towing chartreuse spangled banner
bigger, bolder than itself, it sails.
The streamer quakes, gyrates
in the sun's hot rays, its message
clear to the woman below, even though
it's just a piece of mylar raffia,
until the wind blows it back to earth
along with the wren's hopes
for a brighter home and future.
The woman wonders if she's projected
too much onto this small creature.
But only for a moment.
Honorable Mention
Hajj
By Sylvia Lynn
A fat man parading on a bug frame in a red fez
Began unwittingly to introduce foreign infamy.
Candy, freely passed to parade going kids, did fix
Delightful memories of each gregarious fellow
Enjoying his zigzagging ride. Steering with a rev
Forward, Mr. Fez weaves in comic antics thru
Garish waddling walking clowns inculcating trust
Honor, and vulnerable thanks to exotic secret societies.
Insanity
is shrouded, like a burka, stirring wonder.
Jihad is against the candy eaters, now sipping Dry Seq.
Knowing only their own Book, they're sucking up
Lots of oil and resent any mundane politico who
Makes war without reason. They remain open
Now to watch nuclear warheads threaten them
Over alien warring ideologies with slick rhetorical
Primetime sound bites. So innocent are the meek
Quizzical sweet things circling malls on their own Hajj.
Religion's fundamental fatalism, as played on Wii,
Swaths searching souls with a burning wish
To worship Awesome Majesty. Phrase turning
Usurpers preach action or demand restraint as if
Vision divine was their personal commission alone.
Wisdom weeps for the future dead, as Malcolm add
X exemplifies the price of understanding the heretic.
Yahoos invent theology for the new illiterate youth as web
Zombies chat to any but The Alpha and Omega.
Honorable Mention
In Louisiana
By Marcia Walls
in Louisiana
stickiness licks the skin
like sin, the temperature rises
resolve melts; discontent breeds
in the murky swamp
we fight, soldiers
armed with fans,
air conditioners
shower 2, 3 times a day
attack damp feet, pits,
with powders and sprays
our water bottles
are always loaded
rations of Abita and Barq's
stockpiled in the fridge
ready.
we stand in long-lines
in the beating sun
for the privilege
of pressing sticky lips
to man-made sno
At night,
(or when we think of any excuse)
we drown the heat, our misery
with daiquiris, liquid bullets we fire
with ease.
our rivers, lakes, and bayous
mirages we know
polluted, muddy, they offer
no relief in this occupied land
so confined to our porches, we dream
that there's a beach in Mississippi
where we can lay down our arms
in blue waters
and surrender