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





Ann Arbor review

is an independent

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

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After Sunday School today I watch my teacher

through the plastic-glass door of our trailer
-classroom, she's alone with Jesus now in
our double-wide without any wheels or
wheels within wheels which Ezekiel saw
and once in Sunday School I slipped and spoke
Zeke when I meant his Christian name--I mean
his first name, anyway--and Miss Hooker's
eyes went round like baby-moon hubcaps and
I saw myself in 'em even though I
was at the very back of the classroom
and her mouth made the kind of that means
you gnashed a sour pickle or lemon twist
so I spoke up Ezekeiel is what
I mean and she said It's who as well. Good.


When folks die it's Heaven or Hell they say

in Sunday School to us ten-year-olds but
I guess I'll only know if they're right when
I die myself or is that I myself
die and I wish I could but of course I
don't mean suicide or even killing
myself but just dying long enough to
catch a fairly decent glimpse of what's to
come, come the Afterlife--angels, demons,
harps, and pitchforks and so on--but I wish
I didn't have to die at all, just get
to hang here on Earth forever because
when I asked my Sunday School teacher if
I'll find corn dogs in Heaven she laughed but
then she started crying. Is that Maybe?



Gale Acuff, Jenin, Zababdeh, Palesti




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