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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Four Poems by David McLean

and here the dead god

and here the dead god was presence stopping
the whole bizarre scam, nothing resting
in-itself a dream of absence unfolded
nasty like a petal is, stupid like innocence

wherever the dead god stops to rest;
we have invented him already, morons
and skin and sex

corpses waiting

She could not hold herself in, nor help herself in her trouble. She just staid where she had been put, pale, and scared, and weak, and sick, and sure that she was going to die.
—Gertrude Stein

and this is waiting pitiful
all these deplorable corpses walking
the children we have never been

it is eternity always already
and we are falling

time and lies a broken radio

for we cannot hold them
we cannot stop night happening

and i am broken beside you
at all these enormous distances
and we are never children—

listen, they are bleeding

absences in us

I hope she has her cow. Bidding a wedding, widening received treading, little leading mention nothing.
—Gertrude Stein

and if the change likely is unlikely
we are the certainty of distances and not touching;
there are centuries and a peaceful life to awaken a storm to,
troubled falls midnight, blind as eyes is
and lifetimes;

there was black hair
and the dead woman was talking
past memory and the distraction,
the dead cough into unforgettable leather
and no god in any of these absences,
no gods are dancing

a silence

Elephant beaten with candy and little pops and chews all bolts and reckless reckless rats, this is this.
—Gertrude Stein

and we sit, opposite sides of a madness,
like a mirror we have been where there is darkness

nothing we have noticed much,
no body lonely as a ghost is, nobody hopeless
the steam above the chilling water

is not listening, the smoke over a battlefield
a perfectly ordinary silence, a broken orgasm,
a dead man laughing

David McLean is from Wales but has lived in Sweden since 1987. He lives there with his dog, Oscar, and his computers. In addition to seven chapbooks, McLean is the author of four full-length poetry collections: Cadaver's Dance (Whistling Shade Press, 2008), Pushing Lemmings (Erbacce Press, 2009), Laughing at Funerals (Epic Rites Press, 2010) and Nobody Wants to Go to Heaven But Everybody Wants to Die (Oneiros Books, June 2013). More information about McLean can be found at his blog MourningAbortion.blogspot.com.

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