Ann Arbor Review


Ali Znaidi
Silvia Scheibli
Richard Gartee
Deji Adesoye
Shutta Crum
Solomon Musa Haruna
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Fahredin Shehu
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Robert Nisbet
Gale Acuff
Rekha Valliappan
Fred Wolven
Aneek Chatterjee
Alex Ferde
Michael Lee Johnson
Jennifer Burd
Running Cub
Duane Locke

Helen Gyigya

Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2020 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 53 years all together....


Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven


Submissions via e-mail:



“Life, if well spent, is long.”
da Vinci

Yes, I really believe it is necessary to walk into the river
time and time again, for, just as we wake and sleep
in natural cycles, and walk and talk in regular patterns--
they, too, being established and more often than not
done as normally as decades of history tend to mirror
earlier ages of situations and events.  As a result,
it seems upon a closer examination—the kind of
consideration leading to the depth of insight one can
grasp through ground-level or under eves in eye-to-eye
observation of a trail of ants or a hive of honey bees. 

It’s true that Mozart knew much of the nature of each
instrument, especially the clarinet, before composing
his concerto for that woodwind.  Do you suppose he
and da Vinci could step into the waters of the same river
and, like the passage of time with its notches and nodules
filled with activities, absorb more than alone, perhaps
approaching that higher level of knowledge and/or
reaching satori not too unlike Christ did in the Garden or
Napoleon felt before his Waterloo?  Oh, how, I sometimes
wonder, is it not probable that numbers, 7, 1, 2, 3 (for ex.)
can help both to unravel the essence of scientific phenomenon
(like gas explosions on planets) and also the nature of the
human communication process—putting words and phrases
together in comprehendible order in sentences or expressions.

What exactly did the young Edison think when he landed
alongside the track in Smiths Creek?  Or what would you
believe Roger Bannister could anticipate feeling before
walking onto that Oxford track in 1954?  How dare anyone
compare, you inquire, a foot race and boxcar kid’s experiment
with the feats of da Vinci and Mozart?  Isn’t it more likely that
I can always step into water, hot or cold, but that now and then
I will cross over stepping from stone to stone.  The Moon when
suspended against the darkened sky lights more than one path-
way.  And I walk into the tall weeds hiding the hidden lake
unsuspecting what I may find only curious enough to take this
walk and fashion my way.  I pause but for a moment to let an
unidentified snake cross before me, then, humming a strain of
a Down ‘n Out blues, I continue my adventure searching for
something more whatever it becomes without any forethought.



Fred Wolven, Southeastern Florida


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