Fourth Daily Poem Project, Week Two call for votes

THE FOURTH DAILY POEM PROJECT, WEEK TWO

Here are the poems to vote for in week two of my fourth Daily Poem Project (the poems on Poetry Daily from Monday, February 25, to Sunday, March 2):

8. For the Birds, by Ciaran Berry
9. Overturn, by Martha Zweig
10. Dwarf in the Shade of a Eucalyptus, by Elton Glaser
11. The Dictator in Prison, by Adélia Prado / translated from the Portuguese by Ellen Doré Watson
12. A Place in Tuscany, by David Malouf
13. Prepare, by Danielle Grace Warren
14. Nora Barnacle's House, by Gerard Smyth

This is the second week of twelve weeks, at the end of which the twelve winners will be put together for a final vote.

HOW TO VOTE: You can send your vote to me by email or as a comment on the blog. If you want to vote by commenting but do not want your vote to appear on the blog, you just have to say so in your comment (I moderate all comments). (If you read this on Facebook, please vote on my blog and not as a comment on Facebook.) I will post comments as they come in (unless you tell me not to post the comment, of course).

You may vote by the title, the author's name, or the number of the poem in the list above. Please make a final decision and vote for only one poem (although it is always interesting to see people's lists).

Please VOTE BY FRIDAY, March 6! But I will still accept votes as long as I have not posted the final results, which might only be on March 7 or 8. If you would like to receive an email announcing the posting of the results, make sure to get me your email address somehow (if it is not available through your blogger profile or the like, say).

The winner of week 1 was Alison Brackenbury's Edward Thomas's daughter.

Last Days of the Surreal

Just when I fear that my tastes in poetry are becoming so "straight" as to be almost boring (I don't really fear that, but it's a nice opening move for a blog entry), I come across something like Elton Glaser's "Last Days of the Surreal," which reassures me that "bent" poetry can still strike me, if it's this good. Wit does not preclude darkness and mystery.