INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Richard Kostelanetz
Karyn M. Bruce
Duane Locke
Lyn Lifshin
Rich Ives
Chris Lord
Anton Gojcaj
Donal Mahoney
Laszlo Slomovits
Alan Britt
A. J. Huffman
Bhisma Upreti
Ali Znaidi
Paul B. Roth
Joan Colby
Rexhep Shahu
Catherine McGuire
Michelle Bailat-Jones
April Salzano
Kufre Udeme
Jane Butler
Jennifer Burd
Peycho Kanev
Joanie Freeman
Jennifer Burd &
Laszlo Slomovits
Frederick Pollack
Fahredin Shehu
Holly Day
Serena Wilcox
Ndue Ukaj
Running Cub
Fred Wolven
Allison Grayhurst
Rose Mary Boehm
Michael D. Long
Jim Davis
Christopher Dungey
Bobbi Sinha-Morey
Jason Ryberg
Douglas Polk
Janine Canan
Ann Arbor Review
is an independent
International Journal & ezine
Copyright (c) 2013
Silver Grey Fox
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
------------------------------------------------
staff:
Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven
Submissions via e-mail:
The Alphabet
has no face of its own,
but
I see my own face
in the Alphabet.
The Alphabet
slaps my pride,
mocks my gentlemanliness,
strips me of my egos,
leaves me naked,
then says to me,
'This is You.'
The Alphabet
kneads me and destroys me,
pats me gently and acquaints me
with my achievements,
with my weaknesses,
and teaches me again
to be whole.
The Alphabet
has experience
has truth
has the weapon
to cut through pretense,
and also
has its own form.
The Alphabet
has no face of its own,
but
I see my own face
in the Alphabet.
HOPE
Night shall end again
at the spark of daylight.
Sitting on the wings of birds
our dreams will fly away.
Children will wake up, sing and play.
The river of life will flow in rhythm
and sweep away the foul odor of anarchy.
Night shall end again
at the spark of daylight.
Bhisma Upreti, Kathmandu, Nepal