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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Beside the Dumpster and in the Sun
Part 4

Keith Brogan flirted with whores, careful to stay out of eye-shot of any money-hounding pimp. His aimless roaming of the streets had developed within him the habit of taking a big whiff whenever he walked by any unpleasant looking person — or basically anybody that appeared to maybe smell a bit on the overly ripe side of hygienic — which was chiefly an unconscious habit, and he marked down as some inconsequential tic with neither psychological implications nor urges toward a general fascination with life's seedier side. It's not that he stuck his nose right up in there or anything. It was more subtle than that, a negative desire, a refusal to not smell, to not hold his breath, which he reacted to by doing just the opposite: taking as deep of a breath as possible.

A willowy unwholesome-looking whore said, "Honey, I'll let you pop the zit on my ass for five dollars, and you can lick the white gooey stuff up for that other five." She was bored, and probably would suck him off for ten, but willing to wait and see what type of a joker and liar he actually was. They both stood on the corner vaguely staring at one man swatting at what seemed an endless barrage of flies and opening and closing the dumpster's wide, creaky top. The other man stood still, as if somewhere else.

****

And right before he tumbled into the final shade, he knew himself to be amongst the lies of another man, but he wished to be that man anyway, that that man's life, Keith Brogan's life, was infinitely more valuable than his own, because he had not lived it, and he wanted to live everybody's life, because he knew he was not himself and he never would be, and to be somebody that he couldn't imagine was the way of peace.


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Marc GulezianMarc lives in Barcelona and works most nights as a bread baker. Every millionth baguette he quits his job, writes, and is always surprised when his stories see the light of day. His work has appeared or will be forthcoming in Thieves Jargon and Pindeldyboz.


Comments (closed)

kid
2009-11-02 12:47:45

Are you on your millionth baguette yet?

Madre
2010-01-27 16:39:08

I loved your story. We need a character assignation!

The world is waiting for your novel!