A friend just called in a favor...

To submit poetry to a contest she's working with.

Well.

It's not like I didn't have five million things to do (though I did check off a few things on my before-I-leave-for-three-weeks list today, including fair entries), but who am I to turn down a specific request to be part of a small college poetry journal's yearly contest?

I am nobody. So I'm printing out a whole bunch to try and pick three for a non-genre audience, despite the redoubtable strength of my genre poetry as opposed to the others. From noncommentable to occasionally interesting, basically.
Therefore, I subject you to the unique torture that is your share in my life.

 

( If you dare... )

It's long.