INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Michelle Bailat-Jones
Amit Parmessur
Steve Barfield
Fahredin Shehu
Karyn M. Bruce
Richard Gartee
Running Cub
Dejoy Robillard
Yuan Hongri
Lasz.o Slomovits
Silvia Scheibli
Stephen Sleboda
Alan Britt
Gale Acuff
Elisavietta Ritchie
Shutta Crum
Patty Dickson Pieczka
Duane Locke
Jennifer Burd
Aneek Chatterjee
Robert Nisbet
Robert Penick
Alex Ferde
Solomon Musa Haruna
Ann Arbor Review
is an independent
International Journal & ezine
Copyright (c) 2020
Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
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AAR history note: in print 1967 - 1980. Irregular publications 1980 - 2004. As ezine 2004 - present. Most of 54 years all together....
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staff:
Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven
Submissions via e-mail:
Artifact
That solitary cave man
drawing stick figures
on the wall
knew a little
about eternity
and how it one day
will remove you
from time.
Heal
I want to lay a thousand blessings on the lonely people haunting this neighborhood, with their searching eyes and open mouths, hands that have forgotten how to grasp and every heart as empty as the 2nd of January. I want to remind them of the promise of each sunup, but platitudes redeem no one at the bottom of a well. What the lost people need is a rope to pull them up and a bucket to carry their spirit home in. I have no rope or bucket and, indeed, very little spirit of my own. But I will not insult the lonely with banality. I will give them these thousand blessings and continue on my solitary trek.
This cafe of solitary souls
offers
a view
of the most beautiful,
most desolate
cathedral, with
plywood over
stained glass and
ivy climbing
drainpipes.
At ten
a.m.
a delivery arrives
from the bakery and
there is a momentary
rush on croissants,
the sweetness we missed
at Christmastime, there,
sugar glazed.
We sip
our lattes
take providence
as a given
pass our Noon
online, praying
to deities
of time
and ether.
Robert Penick, Louisville, Kentucky