Ann Arbor Review


Richard Kostelanetz
Karyn M. Bruce
Duane Locke
Lyn Lifshin
Rich Ives
Chris Lord
Anton Gojcaj
Donal Mahoney
Laszlo Slomovits
Alan Britt
A. J. Huffman
Bhisma Upreti
Ali Znaidi
Paul B. Roth
Joan Colby
Rexhep Shahu
Catherine McGuire
Michelle Bailat-Jones
April Salzano

Kufre Udeme
Jane Butler
Jennifer Burd
Peycho Kanev
Joanie Freeman
Jennifer Burd &
Laszlo Slomovits
Frederick Pollack
Fahredin Shehu
Holly Day
Serena Wilcox
Ndue Ukaj
Running Cub

Fred Wolven
Allison Grayhurst
Rose Mary Boehm
Michael D. Long
Jim Davis
Christopher Dungey
Bobbi Sinha-Morey

Jason Ryberg
Douglas Polk
Janine Canan


Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2013 Silver Grey Fox
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida

Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven


Submissions via e-mail:




waiting on every embankment, jaws
poised in carnivorous smile, all eyes and instincts
follow me as I wade into the water.
White robes rebel, refuse to hold
their breath, choose instead to spread about
me, petals to my stem.  Rooted among waveless tide,
I bloom.  Stoic queen scenting sacrificial call.
Waiting for selection, acceptance, and the whisper
of my cold-blooded king breaking the surface
of this sound.


gumballs lived in a glass container
on the front counter of the little corner
store in the small Western Pennsylvanian
town I grew up in for years.  Don't ask
me how I know there were 800, I just do.
I am as sure of that number as I am
of my name.

These gumballs were not for sale, not part
of some promotional contest.  They were
just sitting there for show, a useless colorful
display that plagued my childhood.  My still-
developing mind could not make sense of all
that waste, all those wonderful, unchewed
gumballs collection.

I stared at them for years, from all angles
as I grew.  I waited for their great mystery
to be revealed.  But the store was sold, torn down,
replaced with a slick new 7-11.  Everyone rejoiced
at the improved convenience, the always (over) stocked

I resented the fancy neon sign and its clutter-less
counters.  They mocked me, along with the ghost
of that gumball-filled jar, its absence laughing
from my memory.


A. J. Huffman
, Ormond Beach, Florida


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