Even the sky here in Connecticut has it, That wry look of accomplished conspiracy, The look of those who've gotten away With a petty but regular white collar crime. When I pick up my shirts at the laundry, A black woman, putting down her Daily News, Wonders why and how much longer our luck Will hold. "
Appointed Connecticut State Poet Laureate on July 1, 2010, Dick Allen has published seven poetry collections and won numerous awards including a Pushcart Prize, the Robert Frost prize, and fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and Ingram Merrill Poetry Foundation.
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|Festival||Sunken Garden Poetry Festival||Connecticut|
|Writing Program||Southern Connecticut State University||Connecticut|
|Writing Program||University of Connecticut||Connecticut|
|Writing Program||West Connecticut State University||Connecticut|
|Landmark||Wallace Stevens's Home||Connecticut|
|Landmark||James Merrill House||Connecticut|
|Conference||Wesleyan Writers' Conference||Connecticut|
|Small Press||Yale University Press||Connecticut|
|Small Press||Antrim House Books||Connecticut|
Not vistas, but a home-sized landscape,
beloved rooms storied, painted, lived.
A farm bought with a painting
and a ten dollar personal check.
And almost from the beginning,
the intention to pass on
what an artist sees, what artists make.
A parcel of land, a vast legacy.