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 Cassandra Dallett

Jesus or a White Chick

His face is all screwed up
pained
maybe it makes the sex better
that he put himself through
such torment
eyes closed
head down
he fiercely whispers
take it out
with a whimpered moan
straining through the denim
of his baggy jeans
I should say no
but I love it so
it’s fat enough
with a pinkish
band around a chocolate shaft
suits me fine
neither of us will feel better after
he guilt laden
me frustrated
not really finishing
what I shouldn’t have started
but I had to get even
after false prayers
to his Jesus
just to appease him
now he worships with me
physical need
my religion.




School daze

I never succeeded at much
but I made it here
and want to celebrate
It is boring I’ll admit
my classmates’ asses
are no doubt sweaty and numb
like mine
from hard plastic
and Middle School stage lights
our High School so small
we had to borrow an auditorium
for our little graduation
we glow in red robes
outfits underneath
painstakingly picked out
we come from families
that don’t graduate much
my black dress boosted off Haight Street
pushed deep into a ripped pocket trench
but I’m graduating
never seemed possible
I just kept showing up not because
I had dreams and goals
I just had nothing better to do
got more action with the brothas at school
a few onstage with me now
I fucked and shared 40s with
sold stolen dime sacks to
My parents three thousand miles away
but I have family in the audience
my aunt and her boyfriend
a couple of my drop-out friends
they’re all tweaking
from the stage I can see them
ducking in and out of their seats
to do lines of speed in the bathroom
later they will complain
about how long and boring the ceremony was
and I will ignore them
and their drugs
drinking mine (rot gut Cisco)
from a bottle
getting rip-torn enough
to stop wondering
what the hell
I’m gonna do next.


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Cassandra Dallett lives in Oakland, California. She mother to four kids and two pit bulls. She finds them all loving and loyal, but says you never know when one of them will bite the mailman, or the Spanish teacher. When not cooking for her army she writes poetry and short stories of memoir. Cassandra has published in Cherry Bleeds, Street Spirit, Opium Poetry 2.0, Gutter Eloquence, Ascent Aspirations, Criminal Class Review, Poetry Super Highway, Nibble, The Milvia Street Journal, and The Beat Museum of San Francisco.