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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Two Poems by Cynthia Ruth Lewis

Terse

I thought it would be
like getting a tooth pulled by telling you
I had to let you go;
that your version of 'love'
was a pillow over my face,
but it actually didn't turn out so bad

you simply said 'I understand'
and walked away
and now I'm left wondering
if that softly-spoken, short and sweet answer
was the haft of a knife finally meeting the breastbone
and cleaving your world in two,
or if I really need to start looking over my shoulder
from now on




A Silent Scream Is Still a Scream

Some days it just feels like I'm
banging my head against the wall,
like repeating the same word over and over
until it no longer makes any sense
where I can even taste
the pit of my stomach bleeding,
and nothing I do will change any of that

sometimes the words I put on paper
almost look like a foreign language
but I keep the hand moving; the flow,
the connection of pen to paper almost like
blood through the veins, going somewhere
reaching something,
maybe not restoring any circulation or
making the heart beat
but it's still got an interesting rhythm all its own


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Cynthia Ruth Lewis is 42, and is unfortunately ruled by her anger 80% of the time. Her work has appeared in Open Wide, Zygote In My Coffee, Underground Voices, Cherry Bleeds, and more. You can contact her at bookas6670@yahoo.com.