Unlikely 2.0


   As we celebrate mediocrity all the boys upstairs want to see how much you'll pay for what you used to get for free. —Tom Petty


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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Three Poems by David McLean

sullen metamorphosis

the sullen metamorphosis of man to ghost
is just the pallid skin with a few forgotten meanings
written on it, the skin that whispers its twilight
degenerating again, stealing words from the air,

and passing itself of as life, while the moon shines
memory maybe for everybody else,
and the sun sleeps like a criminal's conscience
passing dying off as waiting for night,

passing death off as killing time




our nights

our nights were an exotic memory
halfway between a nipple and a pizza
and i was involved in them like a smell
of faint resurrection, like living again

because i loved you like dusty attic
that let me mean what i said
perhaps for the first time, and fuck night
like an animal, like amphetamines and vodka

were going out of style, and so
was growing old, so was time
and pizzas were like the womb of a cat
full of kittens and nipples and moons and life




the stubborn world

the stubborn world is here again
and the perverse obstinacy of this incorrigible
slut unfolds itself here around us, the trees
on the obdurate mountain insist on
their persistent being, spat once
like love from the face of the void,
where life is just time coming,
where thought is the froth in God's
semen - and this stubborn world
swallows the seed and its reasons,
nothing to believe in, just
living, just this incorrigible
being


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David McLean has a book, pushing lemmings, published by Erbacce Press and a new chapbook from Shadow Archer Press. Details of these and several other books and chapbooks are at his blog, MourningAbortion.Blogspot.com.