Ann Arbor Review


Duane Locke
Elisavietta Ritchie
Sam Cornish
Alan Britt
Shutta Crum
Joseph McNair
Geoffrey Philip
Lazlo Slomovits
Gerald Clark
Chris Lord
Coleman Barks
Marisella Veiga
Joanie Freeman
Dave Etter
Steve Barfield
Michael D. Long
Karyn M. Wolven
Running Cub

Silvia Scheibli


Sometime during the night
he got himself knocked down
by a hit-and-run wind.
Flat on his face, he was,
between two muddy corn rows.
Get him up, for pity's sake.
Don't let him lie there,
his dirty nose in the dirt,
his tacky coat gone cruddy.
Now, where's his torn scrap
of a sad old tramp's bad hat?

Find it, it can't be too far.
Then I'll get this fellow
upright, as he should be,
slap-happy but looking
scarecrow perfect again.


It's Memorial Day weekend.
The old mall is crowded today.
Where do all these folks come from?
Lots of young people everywhere.
Most of them wear lettered sweatshirts
and move about in tight herds or packs,
wide-eyed in wonderland.
But, to me, disenthralled with malls,
this is just one more place
where the Bulls and the Bears meet
B.U.M. Equipment and Old Navy.
Nobody stays home anymore.
So, what am I doing here
in this mad mob of humanity?
Well, I'm not looking for young love.
I need a new pair of shoes.


Dave Etter, Lenark, Illinois


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