Ann Arbor Review: International Journal of Poetry

Issue Number 13

Ann Arbor Review

Southeastern Florida                                                                                                                 Ann Arbor Review


Silvia Scheibli
'Deji W. Adesoye
Chris Lord
Ali Znaidi
Paul B. Roth
Umm-e-Aiman Vejlani
Lyn Lifshin
Laszlo Slomovits
Naim Kelmendi
Richard Kostelanetz
Anton Gojcaj
Duane Locke
Jennifer Burd
David Ishaya Osu
Steve Barfield
Miguel A Bernao Burrieza
Richard Gartee
Violeta Allmuca
Alan Britt

Fred Wolven
Ilire Zajmi
Running Cub
Donal Mahoney
Fahredin Shehu
Peter Tase
Nahshon Cook
Al Ortolani
Alex Ferde
Anton Frost

Michelle Bailat-Jones
Lazlo Slomovits & Jennifer Burd

Karyn M. Bruce
A. J. Huffman
Michael D. Long



Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2014 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 47 years all together....



Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub

Fred Wolven

Submissions via e-mail:



Boys smiling like formula-one drivers
Race copper seahorses in
coffee paintings

White linen girls wipe bleached out
Counters with dreams crossing
their hearts

Zebra butterflies dance to jazmine

Magnificent frigate birds
Glide like whispers
Into your blood  - their aerodynamic angular silhouettes
Carve phantom sails on
Motorcycle mornings

Azul eyelids
piņa colada lips
Mayan cheekbones
Salty hands
Promise you everything
But give you a
Citreoline Trogon
Sitting on a wire in Playa Ayala


How will the day begin?

Will it be with the yellow-winged screech of the casiques?

Or the iguanas lazing in the palms?

Maybe the black breast of the frigate chasing a phantom sail in the surf?

Will it be the white-gold plume of the boat-billed heron
in the mangrove forest?

Or will it begin with the  Citreoline Trogon
on a wire in Playa Ayala?

Will it be the group of dolphins
Spinning near the fishing boat?

Will it be the jaguar, bronze eyelids squinting in mangroves?

Or the great-tailed grackle on the palapa?

Or the muddy sash of the alligator?

Or the empty lobster trap on the motorcycle?

Or the sting ray in the fisherman's net, set free again?

Or the disgruntled cartel fighters jailed now?

Or the loco taxi drivers?

Or fire opals the colors of lipstick?

Or the sunken, delirious red eyes of bromeliads in swamp banks?

Or the polished long necks of royal palms elegant in green?

Or the brandied gold of sorghum fields
At sunset?

Or the fine blue brush strokes on the turquoise bowls set for dinner?

Nuevo Vallarta is a bracelet you never take off.

Silvia Scheibli, Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco, Mexico
                         Rico Rico, Arizona


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