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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Three Poems by Daniel Wilcox

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

Through this time so sorrowfully past
We dropped countless explosions, flesh-blossomed,
So clever pushing the brainly-designed pods
And now comes far more tomorrowed smart bombs.

Oh, this endless scientific avarice,
To discover again our ghoulish genius,
We who launched a million ships
Since golden Ilium burned with Greek fire
Through the time so sorrowfully past
And dropped countless explosions, flesh-blossomed
Lightning the sky like Zeus in a righteous rage.

Shrewd cunning slithers through our high-tech success,
Swallowed until our gorged stomachs implode
Through the time so sorrowfully past
Like the golden apple thrown to the Three
And dropped countless explosions, flesh-blossomed,
Slashing the moral sky like Gorgoned hubris,

Leaving Sophia cut up like the Levite's concubine
Through the time so sorrowfully past
In this vast historical ever forgetting,
Thundering the sky like fallen messengers
Where we squander mind blossoms in this
Moral smart-aleck Hell of tomorrow.

Mean 'Wile'

The HD TV vivid

                             skulled face up
                                                               in the dark hut in Darfur,

the swaddled soil of a child

                       and her jointed, bamboo-sticked arms
                                                                                    on the mud floor
                                                                                                               her bloated stomach

a greedy  balloon   of    air             e x  p  a   n   d     i     n       g,               r i s i n g 

                                                                        toward the (mean 'wile') civilized world—

The latter politicians
      their lush land           escapes

to their surfeited thoughts of juicy sirloin and a cocktail

of their problems galore. They fixate

                                                                   buffeted by the windstorm
                                                                                                               in their nostril;

I-doctoring their digital Iris

                                              they sleuth for each speck, each jot and tittle...

They worry over the tempest
                                                 in their shot glass;

                         yet their future is the parched abyss,
                                                                                      the hungering earth.

One Dog Night

After we drove


a ranch road into pasture
by the frozen stream,

I sat in the truck cab looking...


splotch-starred darkness,
through the cracked, pitted windshield,

while the ranch cook grimaced and cursed.

He jumped from the driver's seat,
back to the pickup bed,

shot the pensive dog,
and dumped him
into a snow bank

—for vultures and the rot of spring.

And, me, sitting in the cab,
feeling like Lenny.

Daniel WilcoxDaniel Wilcox's wandering lines have appeared in many magazines. Before that he hiked through California State University Long Beach (Creative Writing), Montana, Pennsylvania, Europe, Palestine/Israel...worked in a mental institution, and taught students literature. He lives with his wife on the central coast of California. "Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow" was previously published in The Medulla Review. "Mean 'Wile'" was previously published in Frame Lines.