Unlikely 2.0


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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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Perchance to Dream: Eating & Drinking by Sam Silva
Mary Jo Malo Reviews the Book

Part 2

In our recognition of all unholy alliances

Green Ooze

(with regard to that most notable
of the political murders
in Guatemala)
I know a nightmare and
I weep for you
sleepy city in the South,
rooted in your own
Catholic flowers and poverty
amid the vegetation.
We all weep for you
...for your enlightenment
however lonely and obtuse
about the rain-forests falling
to abuse ...we weep
for each
environmental niche
at noble salad lunches.
Our congressmen! Their tears profuse
with laughter like a carnival
...over champagne marinates,
weep
over truffles and steamed goose
...you are the crown of sorrow
over splitting headaches
and their days
made of fifty-dollar plates
and more
...the book we read
...we try to finish before we fall asleep! and weep
trying not to be disturbed
by little family feuds and feasts
and all their permutation
...knowing that a priest
and a noble man
could once again
like a common criminal, down there,
like all the poor and god forsaken peasants
among the many other
factotums of the myth of God
that murmurs tired phrases
about a man and how

he ought to be a brother...oh that you should know!
Down there
...till we're bored enough to sleep, we weep
and worship little relics
pure enough to keep
and if we cheat
...we chew the dreary meat
and give the dog his bone.
And we will bleed green ooze
and will weep and weep
until the nightmare
is our own...

In our disgust for deeply seated bigotry

Democracy In The South

The crows have taken
a vacation
in the shadows
where the mental
image ducked.
Among the trailers and the swamps,
where land is dredged,
the bottled beer is sucked,
dark highways
proceed
in their deliverance
of the virgin spirit
to the dry and anguished deed
confessing to the cop
in a baptism of blood and wood,
until the charge is finally dropped
...and evil
is made good
or good enough to stop
aspiring to justice,
when progress is the overwhelming
issue in the law.
The computers just get brighter!,
the malls become the place to shop.
And once again "truth"
is never spoken
...merely understood
"Equality is nice, but"
the crow shall hunt the mouse!
lucky to live as mice
by virtue
of the mercy
of a claw.

In our hope for a genuine prosperity doctrine, not the fundamentalist abomination . . .

Riches

"People get
what they deserve"
...that Karma
of the cosmic pie!
"But only in California
and only if pie
is what 'they' eat
while others labor
at their feet
at the peak
of this statistic's curve,
and a lot of pie
not just a bit"
And "if only others loved the Lord
and had the faith of a mustard seed
they could pray themselves a home and car
and get off welfare
...yes! indeed!
"and pickup call girls bound for Hell
and screw them in that car's back seat
and keep them useful with a lie
that only the pure in Jesus tell
and 'satisfy their every need.'"
And when God's kingdom comes to Earth,
falls from the sky and crashes there,
and Africa is filthy rich,
the Chinese, smug, in all of their wealth,
and all that God's children can afford
are peanuts in the packaged care
of dark skinned people when they bleed
...why even I, will stand amazed!,
at the unsung justice in this curve
and think
"Why Jesus, God, be praised!
…'they' really do," "People,
however full of shit
really get
what they deserve."

Silva was an army brat who spent time in England, Puerto Rico, and many other countries. His politics are partially influenced by first hand knowledge of mentally ruined veterans. He tells of special missions and soldier towns. Love Between Commercial Breaks begins with "It is amazing how the phantom of film has transferred that dense human grip that people would normally keep in the most savage, desperate, and cold-blooded acts of life." In The Whores he tells the story of three American soldiers doing reconnaissance and surveillance near Maguey, Columbia where the US enlisted the aid of Vincente, a Panamanian, because they didn't trust the locals. Vincente wanted to join the US army and eventually gain citizenship, but the mission wasn't going well. The helicopter gunships would turn up nothing; some of the choppers were shot down; and there were rumors that American servicemen had been clipped or captured . The local 'militias' were more successful; however, their methods were an increasing 'embarrassment' to our State Department.

. . . and in our disdain for soiled loyalties

What's Left To Do

[...]
no one cares for freedom,
nor love, nor faith, nor purity
except, and in as much, they pay
green for green with spiteful sneer
whose game of spite
is its own bliss,
the price of such an empire
that calls itself "Democracy,"
and lewd rewards in Heaven
for the soldier
in every distant war.

Continued...