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 Chris D'Errico

We Request Compliance at Birth

no fancy explanations or revelations used as reasoning or validation
no spirited & spontaneous decisions to allow the privilege of an utter existence
no need
this is the grand opening          the big break-out gig          the show that begins
with a few nervous tears & coughing & tuning oneself into coherence
raw, unadulterated gems are forthcoming
when the blood & slime is washed away

we have high hopes          we’ve prepared the house in great detail
come home with us & let us know what you think
we did our best to make you culpable we mean capable
we’ll go over the master plan together

it starts with a simple breath & some other basic bodily functions
no lame attempts at justification          your lucid brain & taut spine is a healthy gift
& the stage for momentous events to come          we’ve been waiting
& waiting & waiting & now you’re here          after many

cups of coffee, tea, cigarettes, an endless shuffle of CDs & cassettes
bottles, cans, glasses of beer, wine, shots of the hard stuff, insincere compliments,
vats of junk food, white lines & pills, poker hands, hot innuendos & frozen TV dinners,
here is a cigar, congratulations

we’ve taken a crowbar to the gates of hell          privy to the passwords of heaven
we don’t use names here          a number will be stamped on your liver
just kidding          you were such a work-in-progress conceived & finally now perceived
in this world that almost doesn’t deserve your presence          you are so far beyond
extraordinary          your potential neither sacred nor sacrificial          just dead center
welcome welcome          we are your benefactors          I am your father




Diving into the Hedonic

the book made outrageous claims.
life as this insistent back-beat gone amok in sum
primitive raw to propagate, orchestrate
infernal melodies that play always in the flesh. an enjambment of fire
is there to deliciously heed
to feed wild arpeggios that augment the soul & it is precisely this dangerous proposition that gives worth to dreams & weight to our hearts.

a life of discord
searching for some sweet harmony. reveille & screw up magnificently.
an exquisite wreck, the divine comedienne redeemed by an understated allure,
an irresistible chemistry stains each chapter of a crude apotheosis.

a glossary of bone, blood & song & in the soul cultivate heart, sense, tolerance.
some gravitate toward utility.
others, visions.

raising hell or rearing love
in its extroverted mutations, its intimate vibrations
a nod to the criminal adrenaline rush of idle dreamers
taking an axe to the system’s doctored ladder.

kisses like footnotes blown to the ephemeral, the smug dance of knowledge implodes to expose an appendix of sputtering nerves & animal tics.

dive in, chum. lost minions paddle on for greater shores. exploding truths dissolve the indigestible dirigible our hearts can become.
cast into the vast seas of sentiment & sleaze, stupidity & sanctimony.
surrounded by cactus & killer bees, alone in a crowded desert of compromise,
sample the fantastic nectar of the sweet & real.

a bibliography of hope, occasional treasure, excavation of the lost, the challenge of truth & the allies of fear.
there is a lake of bodily fluid containing sacred scrolls buried under its bed.
dive in, chum, it’s a dicey hand, draw blood.
never mind the sharks.




Song of Deceit

A soul abduction…
                        Some cosmic drama…
His poor resinous heart
    taken in a bloodless incision, executed
                                                     too precise
                                         for mortal hands.
He couldn’t believe what was at stake
                        with each flutter
of inebriate lash.
Fooled
                   by the eyes.
Those eyes…
                                                        EYES
bluer than noontime in Iceland.


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Chris D'errico lives in Las Vegas. "Diving into the Hedonic" and "Song of Deceit" were previously published in his chapbook, The Meat Game, at Thunder Sandwich.