Ann Arbor Review


Bilall Maliqi
Duane Locke
Eddie Awusi
Silvia Scheibli
Amit Parmessur
Lyn Lifshin
Juan Hongi
Shutta Crum
Peycho Kanev
Fahredin Shehu
Lana Bella
Laszlo Slomovits
Abdulrahman M Abu-  yaman
Elisavietta Ritchie
Michelle Bailat-Jones
Keith Moul
Aneek Chatterjee

Tom Evans
Robert Nisbet
Paul B. Roth
Alex Ferde
Alan Britt

Richard Gartee
Karyn M. Bruce

Ali Znaidi
Running Cub
John Grey

Jennifer Burd
Fred Wolven

Helen Gyigya


Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2018 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 51 years all together....


Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven

Submissions via e-mail:



This garden, grandiloquent, grandiose, but gossamer--definitely
without white roses and light blue gravel curving  paths, thus

This is chiaroscuro garden, but with more shadows that the brightness
of flowers. It has no dirt.

We plant the seeds, words, in something we call "mind,"

Almost everyone speaks the word "mind, 'but not one person
knows what the words means.

when the words spout, they too often spout schadenfreude.

Rarely, an aficionado of belle-lettres.



I had  hope--a somewhat obscure hope,
when I heard
my balled-up fist
pouding on
the closed steel door I fantasized
of my insular room of my insular neighborhood.
I listened to the sound and felt the pain in my hand.
I actually heard the knocking, although
my arms were stitched to my sides by words I heard.
At times my fingers wiggled.



Winter goldfinch flew through the thick, very thick walls
of grammar school room.
Flew to black board and tore masks off numbers.

Number exposed.  The numbers had no lips.


.Duane Locke, Tampa, Florida



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