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 Eric Smiarowski

It's Not the White Cat at Midnight or Linen on the Line

I take note of my daughter's morning smile
and my wife's warm arm holding her close...
                         lapsed here for a moment
before I begin
to scuttle off into a detailed afternoon
of car horns, lunch counters,
damsels doing the crosswalk, and
cigarette butts
                      on the sidewalk...

to take a break I sit outside a café on Front Street
and slowly deteriorate,
flake by flake,
             flaking off from my twitchy laugh
while I fill up milligram at a time with tar and toxin
enjoying the view between buildings of the sun easing
                          into the river
             with a satisfied loneliness of life without
unstoppable expansion.

For a second I am one without fear
dumbstruck to think I know what 's killing me.
                             It isn't the white cat at midnight
                 or linen on the line.




Substance Unbearable

these compulsions live in a
gray pheromone constant
and skulk along the walls of alley deep porno huts
become fleshy ravens swarming me fetish over fetish
with high heeled promises that lace up
slender calves until all is a soft flurry
from their beating buxom wings

powder, pill, or liquor form,
race car red nail polish under black sox
purple iris' that swirl together while hypnotic lips
coax me into a fear psychosis familiar as a fingertip
on my skin from being molested as a boy
and my hair razes and I am convinced
to loosen my control
one notch
at
a
time

this time though, I could leave
but I am numb to forethought
as words she did not think of slither
from her tongue like lavender to lather

The closer to getting caught:
The deeper my depression::
The longer the period between attacks.
Is what I tell myself at each turn
to the addiction of betraying my desires

I am amnesic to the fact that it will become too late;
that each character suicide tattoos me
while the corpse remains without remorse
as I, the killer,
unable to love a little bit less
enhance the powers that have always enslaved me




Her Knives

Maybe I'll see you tonight, she says
car already packed for a weekend
away

Yes, when this is over I'll cook
three dinners for you

It's the way she now applies her
makeup like how I used to ask her to

The way the bathroom door latches
when she's in the shower

The water over her naked body
and the hard splash laugh at me
from the tub floor

The new shoes she bought
The new jacket
                  Shirt
                  Pants
                  Skirt
The new panties because she's "needed them for
a while now."

When packing on my last day, I ask
if I can take one of the steak knives

She says,
 Those are my knives and I need them.


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Eric SmiarowskiEric Smiarowski is late for work. He has a hangover from a poetry event last night. He writes poems and raises a couple o' critters. He has a great wife that takes good care of him. He cooks and serves the food. Eric Smiarowski is an all-around good guy.

You can listen to him read his poetry at his MySpace page.