Ann Arbor Review


Richard Kostelanetz
Karyn M. Bruce
Duane Locke
Lyn Lifshin
Rich Ives
Chris Lord
Anton Gojcaj
Donal Mahoney
Laszlo Slomovits
Alan Britt
A. J. Huffman
Bhisma Upreti
Ali Znaidi
Paul B. Roth
Joan Colby
Rexhep Shahu
Catherine McGuire
Michelle Bailat-Jones
April Salzano

Kufre Udeme
Jane Butler
Jennifer Burd
Peycho Kanev
Joanie Freeman
Jennifer Burd &
Laszlo Slomovits
Frederick Pollack
Fahredin Shehu
Holly Day
Serena Wilcox
Ndue Ukaj
Running Cub

Fred Wolven
Allison Grayhurst
Rose Mary Boehm
Michael D. Long
Jim Davis
Christopher Dungey
Bobbi Sinha-Morey

Jason Ryberg
Douglas Polk
Janine Canan


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

Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven

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these bodies we had fashioned were never
quite as comfortable as we hoped they would
look, and it was easy then (necessary, I mean)
to blur our margins in the evenings, swallowing
those clear fire liquids we had so vigilantly
selected for their proof, a word we wanted to
exchange for its other meaning, and which we
almost managed on certain nights when it came
in the shift of their eyes, in the stretch of their
hands first and then--yes, it was a kind of
victory--in the thrust of their bodies, these touches
then the sharp little stones of evidence to walk
across as we picked our way home in the deep
dark or that thin dawn, our bodies no longer blurred
but muscles spent with the tedious work of harvesting
the proof that what we'd done, what we would do
again to fashion our flesh, just so, was no longer
an answer, but even less a question.


Michelle Bailat-Jones, Puidoux, Switzerland


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