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 47 years all together....


Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven

Submissions via e-mail:



Let me measure my shadow. 
Has it overgrown me?
Has it become taller, lengthier, and obese ?
Everytime I climb up
I fight with my shadow.
It often doubles, beyond overgrowth;
it becomes taller than ivory towers.                                   
There may be science behind such whims
But my ethics prods the shadow to be humble,
to be small, and nearer the earth.  
Does my shadow resemble a frankenstein? 
I really donít know
But when it creeps up the wall, and multiplies,
I shudder to think that the ivory tower is
slowly decaying, unnoticed.

Let me hate my shadow. 



My thoughts thrown into
a tabula rasa that fateful afternoon
one after another, -
anger, hatred, desire, love,
magnanimity, self, -
bounced back

You bid adieu finally
My love didnít arrive
My love left in disgust.  



The white cover brings out a shadow Ö

Do I have a body ?
Do I search a mind in the corpse?
and lust for life in those still eyes ? 

Sometimes I feel formless
Floating disjointed in this world
Unable to protest, unable to raise voice

I wanted to light hope
Candles of hope, but all went out
Now I carry with you lifeless white sticks 

I wanted to take you, me and
others up; up in dignity,
up in life and humanity 

But I am continuously descending down the stairs
With extinguished life and soul
Descending down,  formless.   

In you I see a shadow of myself Ö    


Anik Chatterjee, Kolkata, India


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