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:
I reach over the side of the boat
and dip my hand into the murky river
the current wraps 'round my fingers
running through them as shadows through savannah grass
through my fingertips I can sense a time
when children played near the river's edge without fear
of crocodiles and water snakes
I can hear their laughter as it echoes
from the riverbank
carried by a soft morning breeze
I can see their smiles
alive and colorful as silken cloths woven with gold
the dawning sun rejuvenates the river life
and opens up a world of dreams and possibilities
but now the children on the shore are weary and saddened
by the weight of the baskets on their shoulders
wrinkles crease their faces into masks of old women
they stare at me as though I am not here and maybe
I am not
though my sorrow assures me
that in some fundamental way I must exist
Daniel Davis, Urbana, Illinois