INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Silvia Scheibli
'Deji W. Adesoye
Chris Lord
Ali Znaidi
Paul B. Roth
Umm-e-Aiman Vejlani
Lyn Lifshin
Laszlo Slomovits
Naim Kelmendi
Richard Kostelanetz
Anton Gojcaj
Duane Locke
Jennifer Burd
David Ishaya Osu
Steve Barfield
Miguel A Bernao Burrieza
Richard Gartee
Violeta Allmuca
Alan Britt
Fred Wolven
Ilire Zajmi
Running Cub
Donal Mahoney
Fahredin Shehu
Peter Tase
Nahshon Cook
Al Ortolani
Alex Ferde
Anton Frost
Michelle Bailat-Jones
Lazlo Slomovits & Jennifer Burd
Karyn M. Bruce
A. J. Huffman
Michael D. Long
Ann Arbor Review
is an independent
International Journal & ezine
Copyright (c) 2014
Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
------------------------------------------------
staff:
Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven
Submissions via e-mail:
Fingertips, new to strings, turn red,
sore from playing. Bare feet, fresh
to hardwood floor, wince from dancing.
But keep playing, keep dancing,
and fingers and feet develop calluses,
no longer tender. The same happens
when working with tools. These are not
scars on wounds that have healed. They are
the body's devotion to joy and service.
But let not singing make calluses
on our vocal cords. May we learn
to sing open, so it's not so.
And let not contact with others
make calluses on our hearts.
May we learn to be open, so it's not so.
Laszlo Slomovits, Ann Arbor, Michigan
and
Jennifer Burd, Ypsilanti, Michigan