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 Changming Yuan

Passengers

I am the type you are supposed to despise
Dark-haired
Yellowish-skinned
Smaller in size and duller in personality
More of a herbivore

I speak aloud in tongue
I eat noisily with bamboo sticks
I appear everywhere like locusts
I have recently been wanted by the editing authority
When the sun gets me
I am a dream walker

Now I am sitting beside you
In the same class
So whether you keep your eyes open or not
You can feel my warm shadow
Until we touch down
My breaths will invade
Your private space
My chanting will beat your ear drums
While you pursue your dream
My elbows or knees will occasionally
Touch or even hit yours
When monstrous clouds attack our plane
You'd better remain relaxed
Since it is not a matter of choice

Yet I am the type you are supposed to respect
I had an even happier childhood in nature
Although quite premature
I used to be the most civilized
Mighty and mysterious
I am in papers
I am not a phoenix
No more or less than a fellow traveler
With my own destination

So feel free to do whatever comforts you
We will travel together




At the Gas Station

Does this gas
Taste of grain or blood to you?

They say pump
What you don't drink with your mouth


Do all these nozzles
Serving the wrong thirst
Reach out from the same nightmare?

They say it's all civilization
Anyway
So be a vampire




War, the War (Aside)

During the Korean War, about 120 soldiers deployed themselves close to the enemy positions in ambush for a whole snowy night. At 5am when the regime's trumpet horn signalled the general offensive, the company failed to jump up as before, because all of them had been frozen to death, each still remaining in a position ready to charge uphill..

The Political Instructor
We will defend our motherland
With the new great wall of blood and flesh
As well as the old rifles in our hands
Yes, our weapons are out of year
But our will is more than strong
Oh, I wish to see my newly wed wife
What is she doing right now
Snowflakes, bog, beautiful
As large as in my home town
But not so white and fluffy...


The New Soldier
Whew, I am really nervous
And it is burning cold out here
But I cannot move
Or the enemy will spot us
And kill us all
With their all powerful weapons
I will wait, keep still, damn it
Once the charge horn is blown
I will rush forward
I do not want to be a coward
I cannot lose face
Yes, I will bring honor
To myself, to my parents
To my villagers and my ancestors
I will live up to my family name
Shee, my blood is frozen
But I cannot move, should not
Will not, not, no, n...


The Cook Soldier
Sorry, boys, too bad
I cannot cook at this moment
But after this battle I promise
I will find the most edible grass roots
Tree leaves for you boys
And cook you a big meal
With your fried flour
And a lot of snow
And a bit more salt
You know every time when
I see you wolfing down food and soup
I think of my own boys
Always hungry as colts
Yeah, my sons, where are you?


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Changming Yuan grew up in rural China and authored three books before moving to Canada. Currently Yuan teaches writing in Vancouver and has had about 200 poems appearing in (for example) Dalhousie Review, Descant, Exquisite Corpse, London Magazine, Porcupine, Poetry Canada, Sentence, and Vallum.