Search all Winners

Name Sort descending	Genre	Year
Roger Fanning	Poetry	1992
Anderson Ferrell	Fiction	1996
Emil Ferris	Fiction	2025
Kathleen Finneran	Nonfiction	2001
Sidik Fofana	Fiction	2023
Tope Folarin	Fiction	2021
Ben Fountain	Fiction	2007
Carribean Fragoza	Fiction	2023
Jonathan Franzen	Fiction	1988
Kennedy Fraser	Nonfiction	1994
Ian Frazier	Nonfiction	1989
Nell Freudenberger	Fiction	2005
Forrest Gander	Poetry	1997
Cristina García	Fiction	1996
Madeleine George	Drama	2016
David Gewanter	Poetry	2002
Melissa James Gibson	Drama	2002
Dagoberto Gilb	Fiction	1993
Samantha Gillison	Fiction	2000
Aracelis Girmay	Poetry	2015
Jody Gladding	Poetry	1997
Allison Glock	Nonfiction	2004
Molly Gloss	Fiction	1996
Rebecca Newberger Goldstein	Fiction	1991
Elisa Gonzalez	Poetry	2024
Allegra Goodman	Fiction	1991
Jorie Graham	Poetry	1985
Donnetta Lavinia Grays	Drama	2021
Lucy Grealy	Nonfiction	1995
Lucy Grealy	Poetry	1995
Elana Greenfield	Drama	2004
Elana Greenfield	Fiction	2004
Kaitlyn Greenidge	Fiction	2017
Linda Gregg	Poetry	1985
Gordon Grice	Nonfiction	1999

Selected winners

Taylor Johnson

2024

Inheritance: Poems

If there is a ground, then there are bodies beneath it.

If the bodies know my name, then I am said to be protected.

If I am spoken for, then I could've died a number of times.

If I am still here, then I am speaking for the dirt.

If there is dirt, then there is my mouth wet and ripe with questions.

Simone White

2017

Of Being Dispersed

Poems

Who can give an account of occasions

Can mechanized description so falter

Can move toward gesture to scissor the outline

Each to enable a series of seconds breaking or burning

Can undo the work of a million years of human love

if I curse you just right

Tony Kushner

1990

A Bright Room Called Day

A Play

AGNES:

I feel at home.

My friends like it here,

better that their own apartments.

I’m not a fool.

I know that what’s coming

will be bad,

but not unlivable,

and not eternally,

and when it’s over, I will have clung to the least last thing,

which is to say, my lease.

And you have to admit, it’s a terrific apartment.

I could never find anything like it if I moved out now.

You would not believe

how low the rent is.

(End of scene.)

Slide: JANUARY 30, 1933.

Slide: PRESIDENT HINDENBURG

Slide: APPPOINTS ADOLF HITLER

Slide: CHANCELLOR OF THE GERMAN REICH.

Mindy Aloff

1987

Hippo in a Tutu

Dancing in Disney Animation

Even in a traditional "princess" picture, such as the still-popular 1950 Cinderella, the scene with the most romantic magic—the Fred-and-Ginger buoyancy and sense of brimming anticipation—is not, as we would expect, Cinderella's waltz with the Prince in the ballroom. That we only get to glimpse from behind the courtiers watching it—during those moments when the dance isn't interrupted by comic business for secondary characters or by the couple themselves breaking off the dance merely to drink in each other's shadows. The accent is on their private discovery of their feelings, not on the public celebration of their newfound romance. The real dance energy, rather, surges forth in the designing, cutting, and assembly of the heroine's dress in her lonely bedroom by an exaltation of singing mice and birds: a solitary girl's fantasy. The Disney inspirational artist for Cinderella, as for many animated features of the 1950s, was the brilliant and thoughtful painter Mary Blair. Although Blair was frequently heartbroken by what she viewed as the mistranslation of her concepts in the finished films—a feeling that seems to be embodied in the moment when Cinderella's wicked stepmother and stepsisters tear her dress to shreds—throughout the picture you can still see evidence of Blair's deeply unconventional ideas of how stories can be told through synecdoche (key details made to stand for a larger whole) and emotions represented through color and shifts in proportion.

Samuel Kọ́láwọlé

2025

The Road to the Salt Sea: A Novel

Able God walked in slowly, dazed, then he stepped outside and turned to look at his neighbors, who were sitting in the narrow alley. He scanned their faces for answers, but they turned away, shifted on their low stools, and one after another, went into their rooms.

Inside, Able God paced the house, frustration coiling around his head. Had he had any doubt that the police were aware of his involvement, what he saw erased it. He looked out through the louvered window. He blundered his way manically through the chaos, tossing things aside. He pulled up the mattress, rifled through his clothes, heaped one on the other.

He noticed they had not taken his hidden wrap of marijuana, but his chess pieces were spilled all over the ground. He tried to gather them into a plastic bag, but his whole body trembled now, his eyes smarting with tears. The chess set was not meant to be scattered; the pieces were meant to be neatly arranged. How had the police known where he lived? Maybe Akudo had been arrested, but if so, why was the madam protecting her whereabouts?

Samuel Hunter

2012

A Bright New Boise

A Play

ALEX: I get panic attacks over nothing. Absolutely nothing. I’ll be at work, or at home, or at school, and suddenly I’ll start shaking and I won’t be able to breathe.

(pause)

School counselor says that it might be a chemical imbalance. Or, she says, it might have something to do with my past. I think it has something to do with my past, so if you’re my father, it’s probably your fault.

Selected winners