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 FerdeAll 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:





The Cats

Were asleep

But were they?

Eyes half closed
focused on any movement
coming from the dense hedge
where wall lizards slept &
where Prometheus liked to sleep

Planning his next move
making himself indispensable
in a black shirt
tucked below-the-waist and
torn-in-all-the -correct-places jeans.

His beard needed trimming
but not today
Pyrrha was so discerning -
difficult to figure
Envious….stroking his soft cheeks
he turned again to tuxedo cat


On Edge

On edge
about mid-night talks of
expectant rain

an occasional visitor
brings fear of more fires
decimated harvests and
heat waves

We wash bamboo sheets
pretend we will wake

But how many more steps
how many more prayers
will heal our footprints in
clay soil?

Will we acknowledge isolation destined in the slanted eye
of a Siamese cat
stepping from our veins
in a silver coat
caressing our morning


On the
De Anza Trail

The heart
of this arid, Adobe land
is not mountains or sand dunes
or even
the lush canopy of cottonwoods

the heart of this land
is the
infinite burning sky
during the day
that pours liquid starlight
on our palms
at night
when prayers like cicadas
are heard and fused
in our veins


Agua Caliente, AZ

Desert willows
sandy paths
blue-throated lizards
bask in liquid light

It’s their
Turkish bath
scented, blushing dunes 


Silvia Scheibli, Rio rico, Arizona

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