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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The Right to Bare Teeth
Part 2

The following week the human brought a new dog to the ranch. It stepped out of the truck and sauntered into the pen. Max barked a hello and ran up for the customary greetings: sniffing butts, avoiding direct eye contact, flicking tongues. Max lay on his back in a submissive position to let the new dog know he meant no harm.

"Yeah, I guess I can trust you," the new dog said. "The human calls me Buford. I'm a pre-owned. Your human picked me up from the pound." He excused himself, sniffed Max's butt again, then he took off and Max chased him across the fenced-in yard. They played through the afternoon.

Later in the day, the human brought out food in a metal bowl. Max, overjoyed at the sight of the food, danced and twirled, showing his latest moves for the human. Buford looked at Max in disgust.

Max ate so fast, he forgot he had eaten and on seeing Buford's metal bowl, he charged towards it. Buford stood in front of the bowl baring his teeth. "Keep away boy," he snarled. "You just ate."

"I did?"

"Yep," Buford barked and positioned himself over his bowl. "You just ate and you are too programmed by the human to remember."

"OK." Max yipped, ogling Buford's food. It looked so good. Max sat down in begging mode. Maybe Buford would leave a few scraps for him if he acted submissive and showed his tummy?

Buford, unmoved by Max's displays, continued to snarl, "Look buddy," he said. "I protect what's mine." He continued to stare Max down. Buford bared his teeth and snapped his jaws in warning. The human shouted at him, bopped him on the nose with a newspaper, and took his bowl of food away. "What the heck?"

"The human doesn't like it when dogs snarl at each other." Max said.

"That's dog pucky," Buford said. "Dang humans. What about the right to bare teeth?" He rubbed his nose. "Dogs have the fundamental right to bare teeth."

"The coyotes bare teeth outside the pen. But we don't bare teeth inside the pen. We need to get along in the pen." Max said.

"Coyotes? They're around here?"

"Yeah they live in the wild and come in to kill things and taunt the horses."

"Well baring teeth is a fundamental right of any red blooded dog. Those coyotes live free and die hard. This is the proper dog way."

Max left Buford, went back to his doghouse, and laid down inside. Buford was turning out to be a drag. To make himself feel better, Max turned his thoughts towards tomorrow's joyous supper. He hoped the human would add bacon to his food.

That night the coyotes howled and yapped. Max saw them in the distance, their shadows dancing under the cold moon. They cheered, fought, and cried with high- pitched barks. He heard their pups laughing and singing strange tunes. At times, he wished he could be out there, beyond the pen, but he knew better. A dog can't trust coyotes.

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