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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Channeling Spirits with V.D. Cards, or, Why We Didn't Make It to the [Medicinal] Cannibus Cup in L.A.
by Frankie Metro

He kept pushing the VW Kombi Bus in my direction, and even though it was only a model, I felt like he was really trying to run me down with the goddamn thing.

Valentine's Day at Winnings Coffee was a very upbeat occasion. Except for the vagrant with forceful sale tactics standing over my shoulder (not to mention the very real possibility of suffering burns on account of his flammable breath and the flicking lighter in my pocket), everyone kept to their own quiet corners of Side A on the partitioned entrance, while the hosts of ABQ's ZIne Fest set up in Side B for their 7pm feature:

My Dirty Valenzine Reading

When the mini-Volkswagen salesmen finally left me to my reading and Mocha Chai Shake, I looked up to see that people were finally migrating into Side B, stopping at the entrance table to pay the $5 donation for tickets. Dj Mello displayed an exceptionally diverse collection of late 80's/early 90's taste, adding to a general atmosphere that closely resembled the apex of a pre-Clinton era. None of that RuPaul / Soul Asylum top-hit-bull-shit either. Just heavy petting and lucrative, self-assuring smiles. New projects/businesses forming.

When I bought my ticket, I was given a dirty valentine (which turned out to be a... I'll come back to that later) and a secret word that would be part of a drawing for different "prizes" during the event. No one was turned away for lack of funds and everyone got to participate in the drawing. My word was PUMP.

Andrew Lyman (one of the performers) and local MC Marya Errin Jones expressed their joy with the impending addition to the ABQ family.

"We have a confession to make. We're pregnant! With a Space!"—more specifically a location for a future/much needed zine library here in Albuquerque. Without prior knowledge, I clapped along with the rest of the audience, all the while spastically adjusting in my seat and forgetting about my secret word, until Marya drew the first stub from the hat.

"PUMP! Who's got pump?!"

I had to have been the most floundering winner in the history of any contest, as I approached first the corresponding table, then redirected, the microphone, very cautiously, as if I were about to be scolded or hazed in some way.

Walking away with what I thought was a $10 gift card for soft serve ice cream, I scurried back to my seat in the 4th row, and tried to regain a sense of being indiscreet. Out of elements and such, and ready for the show to begin.

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