Ann Arbor Review


Lana Bella
Hongri Yuan
Lyn Lifshin
Duane Locke
Elisavietta Ritchie
Michelle Bailat-Jones

Fahredin Shehu
Laszlo Slomovits
Andy N
Alex Ferde
Lekan Alesh
Michael Lee Johnson
Running Cub
Ali Znaidi
Silvia Scheibli
Robert Nisbet
Richard Gartee
Amit Parmessur

Jennifer Burd
Paul B. Roth
Sanjeev Sethi
Keith Moul
Arjun Dahal
Alan Britt
Richard Lynch
Fred Wolven
Eddie Awusi

Joanie Freeman
Hongri Yuan
Amit Shankar Saha




Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2017 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 48 years all together....


Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven

Submissions via e-mail:






Resistance weakens a stout mind
That endures wind and torn trees.

Rare soft days mean respite, but
On each a risk of barometric fall:
A day hurts wills when wind blows
Prairie dust and detritus for hours.

Grasses, ancient inhabitants, whip
But do not tear the pulsing warp
Of land like cherished oak trees
Planted a century or more as shield.

Forbears built the house 200 feet
From the massive trunks around,
But wreckage tumbles over grass
To inflict unreasoning vengeance.

Without warning a storm can form in
The west. A quiet landscape powders
From crashing shakes when sorrow
And thin breath yield to whim of wind.



After closing, he affixes the old gate. She notices.
At this anomaly, she shudders at the metallic peal
That sentences final isolation, maximum security.

He notices the peal too, ascribes it the same scope,
Speaks to her concern: “The boy has good qualities,
He did well in school sports, liked good girls, went
Into the service without being drafted. Something
Must have taken possession of his better purposes.”

“Dear,” at the door of the car, she finally answers,
“Only the Devil himself plants such evil in a person.
Almost since his birth I had sinister forebodings, no
Confidence in his holiness when he trod in shadows
No preferences at all to open his heart to holy portals.”

“I no longer expect selection, but am certain I qualify.”



Keith Moul, Port Angeles, Washington


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