Unlikely 2.0


   The poems will shake hands and say adieu, trembling under the weight of the world. —Scott C. Holstad


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 Hugh Fox

Night

Night belly-flop wrestling as if
day had never been, put on the
twitch-lights and the drums, eat
less, hungerless performing with
the Buddha face still beyond calm,
call it frozen downkey ecstaticness,
flowless, flawless, spark and
           wireless.




I Don't Know

I don't know, young women all over
the place with baby carriages, oldsters
both male and female, out on the
rural roads running, running, running,
I saw two Afros today without any
shirts on, walking to and from who
knows, old guys sitting on their
little village front or side porches,
the dogs out, the hens in the country,
how come they always stay close to
the house, no fences needed, and
the byte-people all over the place at
sundown, those heels and black nyloned
legs, even I want to go out in the
backyard and find a chair and eat
some chocolate-coated raisins and
have a little rootbeer, every face,
pair of eyes, leg, neck, hair divine,
as if IN THE BEGINNING WAS THE WORD,
AND THE WORD WAS GOD AND THE WORD
WAS WITH GOD, AND GOD SAID "NOW!"




Monologue 24: Vicky Noberg

"OK, so I'm Ms. Details, have to defecate
three times a day, once when I get up,
then once before lunch, again after lunch,
always carefully check the stools. No blood.
100 % OK. And I eat three oatmeal raisin
cookies for breakfast every morning, with
my 2 vitamin C's, chewables, 500 miligrams
each, one multivitamin, and a baby aspirin
to guard against blood-clotting, I take
five minutes on my stationary bike in the
living room three times a day, at 10 AM,
7 PM and 9 PM. If I go to concerts, I
always try to get back home by nine so
I can watch BBC News while I'm bicycling.
I'm fascinated by Darfur and Mozambique,
Slovakia....at exactly midnight (after half
an hour watching films like Nancherrow,
The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady,
Lady Jane
), take Lunestas on Monday,
Thursday and Sunday, Xanax on Tuesdays,
Wednesdays and Fridays, on Saturday night
I take a combo of Passion Flower, Melatonin
and other herbs...that covers it, doesn't it?
No more high heels. Flats, flat boots, sweaters
between October first and May first,
always sixty degrees in the bedroom,
summer and winter. I go to services at
the United Methodist Church at eleven
o'clock on Sundays, have tea with my
old friend, Annie Grunwald on Wednesdays
at five....well, you get the idea...order equals
sanity. All this nonsense about smiling,
what I'm mainly interested in is beating
the odds...and the next Whatever? That's
where my control ends. Although I do
sometimes take cemetery walks through
the DeWitt cemetery, the most beautiful
hills you've ever seen, hellos (and goodbyes)
to the known, unknown, and who knows,
yet to be known....."


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Hugh FoxHugh Fox: Born in Chicago, childhood immersed in music and art by his ex-violinist-turned-M.D. father and frustrated actress mother, dropped out of medical school and attended Loyola University in Chicago, then got a Ph.D. in American Literature from the University of Illinois (Urbana-Champaign). Served as Professor in California, Michigan, Mexico, Caracas, and Brazil. Founder and Board Member of COSMEP, the International Organization of Independent Publishers, from 1968 until its death in 1996. Editor of Ghost Dance, 1968-1995. Latin American editor of Western World Review & North American Review during 60ís. 105 books published, most recently Rediscovering America (World Audience, archaeology), Alex (Rubicon Press, poetry chapbook), Peace/LaPaix (Higganum Hill, poetry chapbook), The Collected Poetry (World Audience), Icehouse & The Thirteen Keys to Talmud (Crossing Chaos Press, novella and sci fi novel).


Comments (closed)

JPenton
2011-09-05 00:27:04

Hugh died on Sunday, September 4th, 2011 in a hospice in Michigan. He was a great contributor to the small press; Unlikely misses him.

Daniel
2012-02-02 19:52:23

Hugh Fox first posthumous novel, The Dream of the Black Topaze Chamber, now available from Skylight Press. See www.skylightpress.co.uk - and http://skylightpress.wordpress.com/2011/12/02/the-dream-of-the-black-topaze-chamber-by-hugh-fox/