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 Allie Marini Batts

A Tyranny of Rules

the treachery of want, a rubric like grammar:
breakable, but to do so,
magical thinking is the schemata of sleights of hand:
                                              just enough
                                              never enough,
only wanting, wanting,
always wanting, never having
without proper showmanship,
the magic of the trick
is that it's always open-ended

the deceit of tardiness, a helium balloon of unmade moments,
unclaimed and floating off into the ether
by the rules of seconds and minutiae.
a curly ribbon noosed around the neck of the balloon,
                                              just close enough
                                              never close enough
to grab back down from the sky,
only reaching, reaching,
always reaching, never grasping,
the magic of ribbons
is how they decorate the leash that keeps you tethered

Magic can be divided and subdivided back to just two,
if you think about the physics of sleights of hand and
the trick of gases that are lighter than air.
The clown asks the balloon, Is this
                                              just enough

                                              not enough?,
but it's the scissors that answer, clipping the ribbon:
Never enough.

Down Where the Roses Grow

This poem requires image support.

Gimme Shelter

when                                                my body meets
another body                                    after last call, whiskey-soaked,
a cocktail napkin shredded—           fibers like the peel of chapped lips
skin on skin on sweat                       will it be the same as it was
when we were still                            us
will it be a bridge or a                       wall
being built under the dark light
of bars,          motel beds,                unfamiliar rooms?

midnight radio comes on
5 a.m.                         and I'm listening
from Los Angeles       will you remember this transmission
carried over the night skies
to broadcast               our exquisite failure
that there was no       unmaking of,
will I still shine as       bright              to you,
a constellation            you can find    in the skies?

I think, instead, I will be          a streak
across midnight,                     a milk spill
above your lifted head.                     These raised hands: a wall,
or maybe a bridge                             constructed in a dark so deep
there's no way to tell                         exactly what we meant to


Allie Marini Batts holds degrees from both Antioch University of Los Angeles and New College of Florida, meaning she can explain deconstructionism, but cannot perform simple math. She is managing editor for the NonBinary Review and Zoetic Press, and has previously served on the masthead for Lunch Ticket, Spry Literary Journal, The Weekenders Magazine, Mojave River Review & Press, and The Bookshelf Bombshells. Allie is the author of You Might Curse Before You Bless (ELJ Publications, 2013) Unmade & Other Poems, (Beautysleep Press, 2013) and This Is How We End (Bitterzoet, 2014). Find her on the web: Facebook.com/AllieMariniBatts or @kiddeternity.

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