INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Gerald Clark
Lyn Lifshin
Paul B. Roth
Ndue Ukaj
Anne Babson
Laszlo Slomovits
Qinqin Huang
Duane Locke
Adhar Maheshwari
Shutta Crum
Odimegwu Onwumere
Anthony Seidman
Chris Lord
Running Cub
Amit Parmessur
John F. Buckley &
Martin Otto
Joanie Freeman
Alan Britt
Jennifer Burd &
Laszlo Slomovits
Sonnet Mondal
Karyn M. Bruce
John Tustin
Jennifer Burd
Michael Gessner &
Daniel Davis
Martin Camps &
Anthony Seidman
Fred Wolven
M. J. Iuppa
John Grochalski
Catherine O'Brien
Joe Milford
Byron Matthews
Joseph Murphy
Dike Okoro
Ann Arbor Review
is an independent
International Journal & ezine
Copyright (c) 2012
Fred Wolven
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
------------------------------------------------
Fred Wolven, editor
Submissions via e-mail:
They attack with the guerrilla style.
Eyes become one with the interstices between jungle leaves
dancing a tribal dance death
and when the real predator looks in your eyes
you will realise
its race is what we call human.
Swamps as hungry as African rivers
abound in dead bodies.
The starving crocs discard them.
They have peeped,
rising heads from the
calm river beds
to watch the poison of African wars, drugs
and unkindness being poured in those bodies.
The hairs of the African lions have grown thick
to cover the ears from sounds of bullets
and cries of orphans.
Those fighting like war dogs are not enemies,
they are rebels supported by a civilization
crushed by a juggernaut.
The men in force wanted their ladies
as a promise to protect them and now
the rebellion starts as a sound of a canon fire
in the darkest parts of Africa.
Soldiers and rebels renamed as
predators and survivors
struggle to see their own Africa.
Sonnet Mondal, Kolkata, West Bengal, India