Ann Arbor Review



Richard Gartee
Fahredin Shehu
Steve Barfield
Silvia Scheibli
Laszlo Slomovitz
Shutta Crum
Running Cub
Sodiq O. Alabi
Stephen Sleboda
Alan Britt
Aneek Chatterjee
John Grey
Michael Lee Johnson
Robert Nisbet
Jennifer Burd
Alica Mathias
Roo Bardookie
Gale Acuff
Alex Ferde
Fred Wolven


International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2022 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 52 years all together....

Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven

Submissions via e-mail:



On a Mote of Dust

“. . . a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
     Carl Sagan

Is it hubris to think one’s life important?
I am, after all, a placeholder.
As is the word “I” or “am.”
As is any word a placeholder for meaning.

I am here, on this mote, suspended in a sunbeam.
The blue of Earth, in the churn of time—
a blink of water and rock.
A placeholder grounded in my heart.

And this poem . . . a little placeholder
for a moment’s rambling. No epiphanies.
Only a stretching of the mind
in a body that’s rooted in space.


He Tells Me He Loves Another

The waters of the creek are tannin suffused.
I can’t see the bottom—and on the shore
there’s a hole opening, my feet are sliding in.

Leaves twist in the sluggish current,
not knowing which way to go.
When I turn to you, I see you have already gone
into that lone cerebral country
where landscape is logical and merciless.

You will trample over the precisely laid-out fields
of your mind until you’ve found a few weedy words
to yank out—roots and all, to offer me


Shutta Crum, Ann Arbor, Michigan


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