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) 2013 Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida

Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven

Submissions via e-mail:



The cliff-lined highway was stagnant.  We had been
driving for hours that ticked by like years, our vision
colored in the mundane tones of clay.  At first we tried
to pass the time, counting sedentation levels as if they were
lifelines inside a fallen tree, tried to guess the rock wall’s
age as if we cared.  Soon we were shaking
off tendrils of sleep, afraid of dreaming we were falling,
dislodged from this massive giant pinning us to the edge.
We concentrated on keeping our eyes open, faces and hands
pressed against car window, vigilantly searching
for that lone pebble that could trigger avalanche
of car-crushing rocks.




A. J. Huffman, Ormond Beach, Florida



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