INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Lyn Lifshin
Richard Kostelanetz
Karyn M. Bruce
Duane Locke
Michelle Bailat-Jones
Laszlo Slomovits
Kufre Udeme
Michael Lewis-Beck
A. J. Huffman
Nugent Karhu
Fred Wolven
Shutta Crum
Fatmir Terziu
Steven Gulvezan
Kyle Hemmings
Adeeko Ibukun
Chris Cialdella
Paul B. Roth
Fahredin Shehu
Chris Lord
Dike Okoro
Jennifer Burd
Alisa Velaj
Joanie Freeman
Jeton Kelmendi
Richard Luftig
Dzekashu MacViban
Mike Berger
Al Ortolani
Ndue Ukaj
Alan Britt
Jennifer Burd &
Laszlo Slomovits
Diane Giardi
Running Cub
Ann Arbor Review
is an independent
International Journal & ezine
Copyright (c) 2013
Silver Grey Fox
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
------------------------------------------------
staff:
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven
Submissions via e-mail:
this morning the mute white fog
has laid itself down
across the wet grass
like a piece of paper placed
over an unfinished letter
and yes, I know that
summer never really wants to die
because it leaves one thing,
always, unsaid
by midday this mist will retreat
back into the mulch and roots
of the trees, old and entwined,
in the dark forest above this old house
and the sunshine will pretend
it has not already given up
this dying sun will burn us
while we turn the soil
in the now-empty garden
its last fiery breath a reminder
of our carelessness in this late season
when secretly, silently we have already
closed our eyes and begun
to hope for the first of the
dead leaves to crinkle and fall
Michelle Bailat-Jones, Puidoux, Switzerland