Unlikely 2.0


   Luckless is the country in which the symbols of procreation are held in horror while the agents of destruction are revered. —Cyrano de Bergerac


Editors' Notes

Maria Damon and Michelle Greenblatt
Jim Leftwich and Michelle Greenblatt
Sheila E. Murphy and Michelle Greenblatt

A Visual Conversation on Michelle Greenblatt's ASHES AND SEEDS with Stephen Harrison, Monika Mori | MOO, Jonathan Penton and Michelle Greenblatt

Letters for Michelle: with work by Jukka-Pekka Kervinen, Jeffrey Side, Larry Goodell, mark hartenbach, Charles J. Butler, Alexandria Bryan and Brian Kovich

Visual Poetry by Reed Altemus
Poetry by Glen Armstrong
Poetry by Lana Bella
A Eulogic Poem by John M. Bennett
Elegic Poetry by John M. Bennett
Poetry by Wendy Taylor Carlisle
A Eulogy by Vincent A. Cellucci
Poetry by Vincent A. Cellucci
Poetry by Joel Chace
A Spoken Word Poem and Visual Art by K.R. Copeland
A Eulogy by Alan Fyfe
Poetry by Win Harms
Poetry by Carolyn Hembree
Poetry by Cindy Hochman
A Eulogy by Steffen Horstmann
A Eulogic Poem by Dylan Krieger
An Elegic Poem by Dylan Krieger
Visual Art by Donna Kuhn
Poetry by Louise Landes Levi
Poetry by Jim Lineberger
Poetry by Dennis Mahagin
Poetry by Peter Marra
A Eulogy by Frankie Metro
A Song by Alexis Moon and Jonathan Penton
Poetry by Jay Passer
A Eulogy by Jonathan Penton
Visual Poetry by Anne Elezabeth Pluto and Bryson Dean-Gauthier
Visual Art by Marthe Reed
A Eulogy by Gabriel Ricard
Poetry by Alison Ross
A Short Movie by Bernd Sauermann
Poetry by Christopher Shipman
A Spoken Word Poem by Larissa Shmailo
A Eulogic Poem by Jay Sizemore
Elegic Poetry by Jay Sizemore
Poetry by Felino A. Soriano
Visual Art by Jamie Stoneman
Poetry by Ray Succre
Poetry by Yuriy Tarnawsky
A Song by Marc Vincenz


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The Prize
by Tantra Bensko

What is it about recording 13 dreams in one night that sends magnetic waves out from the center of You? They pulse roundly, returning, a dark blue sense of sound. What is it about the center dream, the 7th dream that creates the others? Time pulses forwards and backwards from each moment, hits what's there, adds to what's there, and bounces back with information to the present, recreating it.

It was a long time of dreaming. Days of 13 dreams a night. The sound reverberated like the sea. Each night's seventh dream was multiple, all the dreams at once, charged and changed, held in a context specific to the 7th. Each 7th dream was an echo of the night before, and the night to come. They lapped like waves. Hold this paper to your ear and perhaps you can hear them still. They were all about you. The figure of the 7th dreaming. Believe me. If you are reading this, it was you.

You were taken down into the undersea tornado of each one, down into something larger than we know. There were circus performers. Lady Oughtabe and Lord Wanna be. There were ducks drawing on lions with oil pastels. And all the leaves were laughing.

The dreams are written in a book entitled "Am I Dreaming?" So when I see it in my dreams, I'll wonder. So you were there too. Did you remember them? You'd be surprised.

Let's go inside other people's dreams and rearrange the furniture. Let's light fires on each corner of the city sidewalk. Let's leave a blue glass head, covered in chiffon, some Romaine lettuce, and a dollhouse fireplace on the money machine downtown. With a note that says "Am I Dreaming?" If they check "yes" and "no" both on the multiple choice below the question on the note, they win The Prize. And a beautiful Prize it is.

13 owls are hooting. All answers are you. You are the 7th owl. As they fly and move, it's hard to tell whose who-who is whose. The moon is waning in the woods. Orion and the Pleiades are holding hands in their dreams.

StarWalk

13 owls in one night.
13 nights in one night.
I love you,
Born from the time flower.
You can tell me
Where does the green go
This time of year.

13 dreams in one night.
13 dreams in one dream.
Star walk, moon walk.
To see if the goat's eyes
Have become his real eyes.

Whose eyes will he look through
This time?

Will we know the answers
To having no questions?
The world hardens when the goat's eyes turn
Rectangular.
I love you is the only answer
When there are no questions.

So when does the climax of this story come in? When the suspense? The action? They all fly out from the center. Can you feel it? There is just no time for a climax. Any action is one aspect. Any other action is another aspect of the same thing. There's no place really to go, but everywhere. The scientists are correct; get used to it. And I know you are. That's why you are there in number 7. In all the possible directions, and dimensions. Harmonizing one with the other. Waving. Being waves.

So. Here we are, then. Outside of any story. What are we going to do with it?

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Tantra is a widely published artist, and writer, and is sometimes featured as both, such as in Southern Hum Magazine, Mannequin Envy, and Global Inner Visions. Her art show, "Reality Burn!", has been touring Spain for years. She is the Art Director of www.madhattersreview.com. She lives in San Francisco. She has many art sites, such as LucidPlay and http://lucidvision.mosaicglobe.com/, and a writing site, www.freewebs.com/tantrabensko. This story is intended as an example of Lucid Fiction.