BASS RIVER PRESS – CALL FOR ENTRIES
COVER ART COMPETITION
Deadline: December 31, 2018
Judge: Leo Thibault
Bass River Press seeks cover art for its fourth annual poetry publication. The winning artwork will be featured on the cover of Leo Thibault’s poetry collection, set to release in the spring of 2019.
Please read the complete guidelines before submitting your work.
Bass River Press in an imprint of the Cultural Center of Cape Cod.
ENTRIES MUST BE SUBMITTED THROUGH CAFÉ AT WWW.CALLFORENTRY.ORG
If you are a true luddite and simply cannot manage this procedure, please contact Lauren Wolk at firstname.lastname@example.org
Bass River Press will accept only original artwork. Art submissions may be either vertical or horizontal in orientation. All media are accepted, including painting, drawing, photography, and photographs of three-dimensional works. Multiple submissions are accepted, but must be accompanied by a separate entry fee for each submission.
The winning artist will retain their original work, but the Cultural Center will possess copyright of the artwork for limited use pertaining to the needs and requirements of Bass River Press. This includes, but is not limited to, the use of the selected artwork for publicity purposes, cover design, future editions of the publication, and more. The artist will retain ownership of the image.
There will be a non-refundable submission fee of $15 for the first piece of art submitted, $5 for additional pieces. The maximum number of submissions allowed is 20.
As an independent, nonprofit literary press, Bass River Press will use submission fees to cover some – but by no means all – of the cost of reviewing, publishing, and distributing materials.
The submission deadline for cover art is December 31, 2018. No late entries will be accepted.
The winning artwork will be featured on the cover of Bay Windows, the latest poetry collection to be published and distributed by Bass River Press. In addition, the artist will also receive a cash prize of $200, along with two complimentary copies of the publication upon release in 2019.
Please contact Editor Angela Howes at email@example.com with any questions, or consult our website at www.cultural-center.org. Supervising Editor Lauren Wolk can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org, or by phone at 508-394-7100.
How to Submit
Please review the following five poems for inspiration, and cater your submission to the themes, language, and ideas presented there. Thibault will select the winning artwork based on its suitability to the poetry collection the artwork represents.
FIVE POEMS BY LEO THIBAULT
“…Restored to the mornings of childhood
When a drop of dew and a shout on the mountains
Were the truth of the world.” (Czeslaw Milosz, The Master)
When I was a summery nine, I played
morning tennis with broken strings,
a cracked frame and bald grey spheres
on a pot-holed court, whacking away
merrily on the grimy red clay
exulting in the results.
Afternoons, I ran
through waist-high hayfields
bare legs rejoicing, still
unaware of a place called Lyme.
Shy, reluctant door-to-door peddler
of nature’s exquisite, blue fruit,
when I reached the tangled patch
I stuffed fistfuls into my mouth
juices staining young cheeks,
old shirt, then plowed recklessly
through the dangerous ivy
to harvest the tastiest remains.
Later, speeding through town
pedaling a wild ride
on my trusted Schwinn,
unburdened of the blue gold, bucket
swinging from the handlebars
silver now rattling inside,
young, fearless capitalist, I owned
the world of creamy vanilla frappes
waiting to be poured
at Cleary’s Drug Store
next to sweatshop mill no. 4
on the evening side of town.
LITURGY AT FORT HILL, CAPE COD NATIONAL SEASHORE
Let us petition
for the drop of dew on a blade of grass that reflects the morning sky
for the meadow grass that conceals the returning lark’s nest
for the lark that whistles a dark victory from its yellow breast, watches
for the fox on the hunt, that carves its own trail, kits in tow
for the egret, that stands at attention, feet wet, at the passing of the fox
for the hawk, drifting, that lasers the air for movements in the marsh
for the heavy air, still breathable, that inhabits the sky
for the night sky that displays its blackboard of stars
for the stars whose light still races, unobserved
for all the tomorrows of whatever exploded in the beginning.
BAGHDAD POINSETTIA 3
Tricked by the heat
of scorched earth, it uncoils into life
pushes up scarlet through a concrete ribbon
flanked by patriotic craters
its thirsty roots anchored
in Mesopotamia’s sleeping bones
covered now by rivers
of innocent blood
and it screams
at the televised sulfur sky
reflecting the sound and light show
of our newest civilization, waiting,
waiting in vain
to be born again
Note: Baghdad carpet-bombing: 12/17-12/20/1998
Clinton impeachment hearings: 12/19/1998
The beach showers twice
receives the murky sea’s
lines it up
for the gulls
and for the two-legged
to examine intently
should he choose
to find the time
with the rest of the universe.
at low tide, visions
at your feet
the wrack line
gifting the beach
with teeming remnants,
tidal pools pixilated with
minnows and broken shells,
abandoned whelk homes
with green crab squatters,
burnished sea glass,
glistening jellyfish blobs,
the thousand small depressions
of razor clams and steamers,
Lift, lift your gaze
past the seagulls
kiting above impotent boats,
focus outward on the shimmer
rising from the hot sand,
follow it out to the horizon
where the sea seems to begin,
feel the wind on your cheek
whispering illusions, allow your eyes
the beyond, what’s out there, past where
you want to stop, imagine a dive
beneath calm waves
into Thoreau’s living morgue.
Part the suffering sea
with your love,
choose to cross it