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 Louise Landes Levi


the fleeting wish
of/ what our fathers
did                                   
&                           
didn't/            
                 Rescue /
in           
       tune
                      w./
            yr. aspiring
body                                

death & desire/


wind, the 'termas' / written
where, by whom, the

will                          

of
         the
                    father/


Sex

suddenly,
speaking, poem. I was

the/                  
  allegorical,

  /  I was not
raised/                                    
*

                  I gathered the

fresh, the scintillating. Mutant/

                                                        leaves.
_______

I loved
allegorically
&
                         deeply.

The falling / into sleep/

'Don't go'.

Auschwitz, wasn't/ I
discovered, the green wood.
Nothing between.                                                   
Ascension.
                                              Do not destroy
*
The perfection of the

TOWER:     
A AA          

We still   made - love.             

those trees
                            are
                                                        watching,

Feel & See, Undeniable bond, holding the
underwater diety as I become

                                                                      YOU.
*

My memory is not the memory of the
scene, but a memory of the
word.

                                                                       g. perec




A Deep River

The impression of a luminosity/ so profound –
it

is  

everywhere

                  &


                                         nowhere/

 A Rose
arose, fr. the
                             point

                                     of

                                                            quietude




_________



…Of

my  death,
nearer,  I am

                             Nearer/

"the body gets more etheric"/ the lover,


his  hair fallen/ on my, desire/ 
 the  wound, the cut,
"In the school of Rock"     


of drone, shadow reader/
sought, epiphanies,
absolute/
                                      presence/ O


Arise
                                                       wave, weep for the River
has conjoined/ salient/ solitary/
this
                 willful

                                'portrayal'

*****



On the day
      of
                      the
                                  dead/

traveling now, safe in the cosmos
"It's not good to be so pretty"

Absolved/ Jacques, the 'furrier'/ absolved/ Sarah,

absolved,


                                            'deaf
                                                           &
                                                                     mute'

              'from which emerges'/ I can not / this

origin or/ O Father - O Mother- ' Set Sail' -
Unite thy House /

the
                   dream
                                  of
                                              the
                                                                house

of

                                    Judah


*


Famine & dream

in the land of the Merciful/



MUSIC

Re/member/ the chord

_________



I                                                                        

wished to give &  silent to speak 
     of
                      his/

                                                          Buddha
nature
                   Or

                                                       theirs.

In the desert /Oasis -
1 or 2 birds/

a                                             
 note of pestilence

Rock Angel Goddess -

In the rain - They almost shot the Bastard/ I
forgot it all/

 the stranger & the stranger's door.


*


   Mothers/ all /Absolved/

The  Mt. Peak/ the Sea of Faith/
the Rosen/ sepulcher//surrender/remain I,

   sinner & servant /
in  Jerusalem

*

& you get it when I come for you/  as I
listened to your
 
commentaries
       on
                       the
                                       scripture

                                        of

                                                                         dream


  NYC 2003
 
          for Charles Curtis

 on hearing 'Just Charles in the Romantic Mode;'
              by

                       La Monte Young




Uvays & Mohammed

The Uvaysi Text

A contemporary of Mohammed/they had
communication  on the astral level/ All followers
of  Uvays  received  their teachings
in
                   dreams


***

I
        I have told you that the metropolis

is
          in
                               danger

I expect  you to be my  
witness when  later I am discovered
in a  desolate cavern/  unable to speak to
the birds who have gathered,
looking for the
                        repast
                                 of
                                           day.
Do not look for me.
I shall find you as I did on the island when
we were defined,  neither by  our street
numbers nor  ornaments
but by a wind so subtle, only the most
delicate petal cld. perceive & then
transform
                      it.

You were transformed in the gentleness/ O
melodies I heard them as  clearly
as those of the street players
who
at one time, animated the city
                                                of
                                                       my
                                                                exile

 I knew then that exile wld. be  one day
homecoming, but  I cld. not know that the
colors of the rainbow wld. do no harm to my
complexion// so
                                         safe
                                                   &

                                                                       subtle.

*

If I were to  speak to you  of Pythagoras,
or if Ibn Al Arabi  wished to be heart
"the color of the water is the color of
the receptacle"


II

     Do not ask  me to keep secret our meetings
in Damascus or Baghdad/those which
occurred  in the open
air of the fabulous

                                                   mandala./

It is not easy to find oneself
in this privileged territory/Indeed the

initiates are bewildered by the letters which
invites them, those letters of invitation,
written w. inks that appears
invisibly to the

sleeping  & as golden ray to  those who have
learned to look past
   the
                           Paradigm

When  
you appeared in was in grief & when you
parted your joyful elegance  was something
I cld. not ignore,

'do the right thing'
'time in as invention'

not even in my wish to
remain/discrete, veiled / not w. tradition but
w. the power of my  internal  perception
of
         you.


III

The metropolis is dangerous. I have explained
& no one will be spared the ascending flame. I
write to you
as shadow, yet in my shadow are the
filaments of a shattered dream
/ you wore splinters, gilded splinters on your
white cloak

The first time we met
I knew you had read the  books in the
Secret library
                            of
                                     my

                                                         destiny.
Yet
I found myself, w/o voice, speaking to you


IV

My voice has been found, as the metropolis
crumbles. my voice rises above the debris. BR>
The broken tower
is my support & somewhere on this island
a vehicle is in search
                                       of
                                               me/

Your name is written
on the hub of this vehicle/ I have pulled up
my skirt slightly  to signal to you
my glove has fallen

suddenly I am transparent
as you stop & take
'me w. you.


V

Bridegroom & bride, the naked child,
clothed, the tiger, aware, the monkey, more
intelligent than the fallen king/
driving
                   North.

 The flame in my spine is brighter than
the one in your mirror, you avoid turning &
keep yours eyes, on the horizon/
the shopkeeper & apprentice,
on the horizon of
lost love,
   la chanson,
            tourjours
                            la chansno

*

NYC 2004                                                                          
for O                                                                           

"If the believer
understood the meaning of the saying
"the color of the water is the color of the receptacles"
he wld admit the validity of all beliefs.
He wld. recognize God in every form & every object of
faith."

Ibn Al Arabi.  


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Louise Landes LeviLouise Landes Levi is a poet, translator and musician. Her works include translations of Rene Daumal's RASA Essays on Indian Aesthetics, Sweet on My Lips: the Love Poems of Mirabai; and her own poetry books: Guru Punk, Avenue A and Ninth Street, and Don't Fuck with The Airlines. The three poems here appear in her chapbook Uvays & Mohammed. Photograph by Ira Cohen.