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

Holly Day

M. J. Iuppa
John Grochalski
Catherine O'Brien
Joe Milford
Byron Matthews
Joseph Murphy
Dike Okoro

Steve Barfield

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:

poetfred@att.net

GREEN GHETTO

"What changes over time is what is seen and what is seen is
how everybody's doing everything.  What is seen depends
on what is there to see and how we look at it.
                                        --Gertrude Stein


You've seen how the inner city's neighborhood shrinks
as it decomposes, brick by brick--how porches &
roofs cave in--nails pop, disappearing into rumble, so
rain & wind can find a split seam and steal their way
in to wear their welcome out, leaving a blister
of paint, a ring of water stain, a bicycle left tipped
over in the back yard with its rusty red wheels spinning...

What would Thoreau say about this tranquility?

No one is there, you way, as if your thought will make us
more sensitive.

My first husband was a rough carpenter.  He would
stand in doorways and yell into the emptiness



RELATIVITY


I imagine, no, remember, the bleak farmhouse in winter--its worn
clapboard, slipping off its foundation--its gate, unhinged yet stuck,
like the toys left in the front yard's mud.  Worse than no fun, this
farmhouse sapped the living daylights out of a quarter century, making
all of us wonder why these strangers ever came here?  Eye sore, for real,
until someone gave the okay to plant windmills on the property--after all,
it was a matter of time.

M. J. Iuppa, Hamlin, New York