Ann Arbor Review


Amit Parmessur
Elisavietta Ritchie
Donal Mahoney
Fahredin Shehu
Richard Kostelanetz
Alex Ferde
Michelle Bailat-Jones
Duane Locke
Chris Lord
Nahshon Cook
Al Ortelani
Shutta Crum
Ajibola Tolase
Silvia Scheibli
Laszlo Slomovits
Emmanuel Samson
Lyn Lifshin
Running Cub
Nikita Parik

Alan Britt
John Grey
Bhisma Upreti
Paul B. Roth
Jennifer Burd
Sunday Michael
Michael H. Brownstein
Ali Znaidi

Richard Gartee
Kanev Peycho

Engjell I. Berisha

Fred Wolven
Petraq Risto
Carolyn Elias
Alabi Oyedeji


Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2015 Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida

AAR history note:  in print 1967 - 1980.  Irregular publications 1980 - 2004.  As ezine 2004 - present. Most of 47 years all together....


Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven

Submissions via e-mail:



You stood me up
and because you stood me up
the heat in cold
grew colder.

November, the month you expect it to be,
war torn the second Monday
angered and frustrated a couple Thursdays later.

How do you reconcile
a gathering of siblings,
the matriarch

presiding over festivals and festivities,
turkey and chitlins,
sweet potato pie,

the exhaustion of leftovers,
water on the counter,
bones in the sink.



a wrenching at the seams of flesh,
the stifling of a slight drizzle of blood,
the gray marrow of skin,
sun scarred, still warm to the touch,

four men lifted him to the ground,
three more laid him on the hard baked clay.
No one thought to look for a pulse,
no one put their ear to his mouth for vapors of breath,
no one remembered to draw down his eyelids.

They buried him in the garden of caves,
placed a large rock at its opening,
and then they went home.



Michael H. Brownstein, Jefferson City, Missouri


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