Ann Arbor Review

INSIDE THIS ISSUE:

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.

------------------------------------------------
staff:
Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven
 

Submissions via e-mail:

poetfred@att.net

 

 

 

 

Umbrella  Vacation

Jesus under 
Mateus bottles 
in a garage 
with one wall missing 
Front lawn fire 
Authorities and a 
pearl handled 
Saturday night special 
where floorboards creak

The porthole window 
from the rusted bathtub
to the alleyway 
aar
and stone table in between 
like an umbrella vacation 
on the ivory sands of hell 

Frenzy 
full with foam and bones 
cries the mentor 
from a cabin-stained soul 
Released from prison
behind bars 
for crimes 
only the rabid beast 
would commit 
with play get-out-of-jail 
cards-free 
scattered from smoke to ground

 

Jacaranda Day

 

Fire ants and cement steps 

side doors locked 

where curtains blew in 

Termite speckled forms 

the scent of some other scream

Over the refrigerator 

on the mattress up each stair 

 

Jacaranda day 

distemper year 

crawl space movement 

I heard someone dream 

 

inside out flower 

stallion side down

curdled words 

desert black 

champion storm 

mint trilled night 

severed song

 

IS 

He is not 
There was nothing 
I said 
There was another 
She sighed 
There by the door

The broken 
He filled 
The collapsed 
I said 
She stood 
The wind

 

 

Stephen Sleboda, Holyoke, Massachusetts 

   


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