INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Deji W. Adesoye
Olajide Vincent Ajise
Paul B. Roth
Karyn M. Bruce
Ann Arbor Review
is an independent
International Journal & ezine
Copyright (c) 2016
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
note: in print 1967 - 1980. Irregular publications 1980 - 2004.
As ezine 2004 - present. Most of 47 years all together....
Silver Grey Fox
If I told you
orbit the humidity
of your waist,
would you teach
me how to weep?
CROSSING THE BAY BRIDGE IN HEAVY FOG
Cranes on tugs barely visible.
Driving through sky
. . . through clouds . . . directly behind a phantom camper
with dirt bikes strapped to its elephant ass, I feel like Iím
driving through heaven, on vacation, only thereís no place
to dock the camper for the evening.
No horizon . . . only thick fog as I enter the first vague
draw span . . . driving through steel like penetrating the
membrane of some bizarre memory that I never actually had,
I reach land & am awakened by a crab dinerís whitewashed
walls, salt & pepper shingles, & denim blue weathered door
with cracks like antique whispers.
Invading the peninsula, leaving the Chesapeake behind,
a faded coral clapboard house stumbles into the foreground
where, beside a lazy stand of silver maples, one elderly Wye
Oak huddles beneath smoky daylight, straining beneath the
weight of the falling sky.
He was an old composer. No, no. He
was an old poet! Itís getting harder to remember.
His fame fleeting . . . eroding like constant wind
sculpting mauve arroyos across the backs of his
Imagination eluded him his entire
life, but he was a great salesman, even though he
Today an ironic wind
Blows volcanic dust across his canvas shoes.
The goldfinch pecks soggy ground
beside brown dandelions below the shade
of a split-rail fence.
Boeing 737 shreds a lonely cloud
like a handkerchief waving goodbye.
Garlic tongues push through black soil
while an adolescent sun arouses
young tomato plants.
The goldfinch ignites a brief spark
above a bare magnolia branch.
English ivyís tiny duck feet braid
the ivory thigh of a rain gutter.
Two shaggy black dogs dissolve
in a dream of pedestrians & shadows.
White prophets emerge from the finger
bones of a lusty dogwood.
DRIVING TO MORGANTOWN, WEST VIRGINIA
The jade hills of Maryland & West Virginia
overlap. Steam rises o4 the poplars.
Below, a handful of tiny houses resemble
dice tossed against the mulberry trees.
Clouds billow like thick petticoats of Missouri
can-can girls in an 1882 smoky saloon.
Alan Britt, Reisterstown, Maryland