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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Two Poems by Cynthia Ruth Lewis

Another Future Twisted Poet

I was never quite like the other kids;
I hated the bus that carried me home
more than I hated school

some kids thought I was lucky
having my mother home to greet me,
someone to help with the homework
and bake brownies—
they went home to droning cartoons
and as many cookies as they wanted,
eating them until they puked
while I went home to my mother's neurosis
her paranoia
her compulsive obsessions folding into my bones
worming into my brain
paving my future

she was never physically abusive,
but her psychological attacks
seared themselves into my mind like bad dreams
intimidating and inhibiting me,
her psychotic creed forbidding the few friends
I had from being allowed over;
the endless field trips I couldn't go on...
being sheltered, in general,
from a world I desperately wanted to know
and be a part of,
but not quite knowing how

it's been difficult through the years
as I've attempted to struggle
with all those old demons and ghosts,
my frustration eventually shaping itself
into dark poems
as I tackled bitter memories
and picked at old scabs,
the words splashing relentlessly upon the page like blood,
trying to make some sense of it all,
trying to take the sliced and frayed edges
and plait them into something productive
and I can't help but cringe today
whenever I pass a group of children
waiting for the school bus—
I scan the bunch, straining to pick out
the odd loner of the group,
the one hugging the fence
and staring down at their shoes
trying to fold themselves into a shadow,
and I always want to catch their eye
and give them a sympathetic look
to let them know I understand,
that they're not alone,
and I walk away,
almost chuckling to myself, knowing that
abiding by the gods of fate,
another future twisted poet
has been born




Direction

Maybe
if I had been a "normal" child
I wouldn't have turned out
the way I did
maybe
if I hadn't been brought up
the way I was;
if I had been allowed to play
with the other kids,
to run around and scream
and get my ya-ya's out
before I even knew what the hell
my ya-ya's were
maybe I wouldn't be taking out
my frustrations today
on an unsuspecting society
with my dark and bitter poems
my serial-killer mentality
my over-all pessimistic attitude
that life sucks and all anyone
really has to look forward to
is hating yourself
and/or your parents at some point
working a dead-end job
getting screwed by the IRS
and eventually dying
but
then again
considering the current state of the economy
and the continually predicted
inevitable explosion/disintegration/demolishment
of the planet we inhabit
maybe
I'm actually on the right path



Cynthia Ruth Lewis currently lives in California. Her work has appeared in Gutter Eloquence, The Rutsty Truck, Zygote In My Coffee, Underground Voices (where "Another Future Twisted Poet" first appeared) and others.