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 Lyn Lifshin

In This House Where the Phone Rings Rarely

geese parade in late afternoon
icy light. The cat's coiled
on the table as if to share
something she doesn't know.
Last night was definitely hell.

The cat, coiled on the table is
apricot, soft as little feels.
I'm tired of looking for things
that aren't worth it. The
geese intrigue me, parading,
soaking up late afternoon

I'm tired of looking for things that don't matter:
rings, horse paintings, photo
graphs. My cat nuzzles,
shares more than she knows.
The geese, in rose light, glisten

Last night was definitely hell.
The cat knew something was wrong.
The rings, the horse painting on
orange, the photographs of my

father touching my sister and I
so lightly, as if even then there
was a softness that wasn't,
never mattered




Like Another Tsunami of Loss

like what was carved
on the inside of a
gold ring, the "Love,
Cara," a fragile
script. There, then
suddenly missing
like a tattoo that
was a blistery red
and blue gone
by morning. Your
blue eyes, scent of
new sheets. Pulp
of lemon leaves. I
Only know what
was, was once




Ruby

a glob of blood
on my finger.
There, like an
ex boyfriend,
hanging around,
lost without
that red, that
piece of heart,
cold and stony
as he was. He
doesn't know it,
thinks he was
the Valentine
in exchange for
the one between
my legs. He
sees himself as
a donor heart.
Couldn't under
stand giving any
of his body as
a gift, not the
heart, as a beating
gift from a stranger
gift wrapped in
sutures and
bloody gauze,
or the heart I
couldn't get to
open as long as I
have waited for
this ruby


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Lyn LifshinLyn Lifshin's recent prizewinning book, Before It's Light, was published winter 1999-2000 by Black Sparrow press, following their publication of Cold Comfort in 1997. Another Woman Who Looks Like Me will be published by Black Sparrow-David Godine in September 2004. Her poems have appeared in most literary and poetry magazines and she is the subject of an award winning documentary film, Lyn Lifshin: Not Made of Glass available from Women Make Movies. She is working on a collection of poems about the famous, short lived beautiful race horse, Ruffian. For more information, her web site is www.lynlifshin.com.