Ann Arbor Review: International Journal of Poetry


Ann Arbor REviEW

Southeastern Florida                                                                                                                 Ann Arbor Review


Patty Dickson Pieczka
Deji Adesoye
Michelle Bailet-Jones
Steve Barfield
Gale Acuff

Elisavietta Ritchie
Solomon Haruna
Aneek Chatterjee
Karyn M. Bruce
Robert Nisbet
Laszlo Slomvits
Y. Przhebelskaya

Running Cub
Alan Britt

Alica Mathias

Michael Lee Johnson

Vyarka Kozareva

Silvia Scheibli

Richard Gartee
Fahredn Shehu
Amit Parmressar

John Grey
Shutta Crum

Jennifer Burd
Kushal Perusal

Fred Wolven

Stephen Sleboda

Denis Robillard

Alex Ferde


Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2021-22 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 55 years all together....

Francis Ferde, editor
Silver Grey Fox, editing
Running Cub, reader

Fred Wolven, publisher

Submissions via e-mail:



Dance the pulse of this burning hour.  
Let crackling music writhe through your bones.  

Dance the color of the sky on fire,  
of justice crumbling,  
mouths full of echoes.  

Hunger growls  
beneath flame-shot clouds cracking                      
into blood-rubies.  

A shard falls,  
carves the day in half.  

Dance in singed clothes  
on this ragged ridge of earth.  



Tiny wings shiver  
through my veins,  
anisette, foxglove.  

Ghost of a dream  
drifts through the window  
on its scent of witch-grass  
and meteors, smokes you  
across my mind.  

Morning yawns the curtains  
into my room. A gumbo-spiced  
breeze pulls you  
to this door.  



When fire pours from a thimble  
in the sun, and my needle  
pokes embers, raising sparks;  
when diamonds spawn  
on dirty dishes, struggling  
to slither upstream  
to the faucet,  
I glimpse unwritten poems.  

They swirl around me,  
flick their wings  
along my peripheral vision,  
but there’s no time to write.  
I sort through paint samples,  
discard a swatch of moonlight.



Patty Dickson Pieczka, Carbondale, Illinois


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