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 Holly Day

Jason

when it was finally warm again, we let the horses
out of the stable to feed on the new grass growing
in the front yard. I'd always be the Indian
my cousin, the cowboy, and we'd run screaming after
one another in an obstacle course between the horses.

I fell in love with Jason because the horses did, I think
Daisy and Dodge would let him drop from an overhanging tree branch
onto their backs without a twitch. I tried with Daisy
once, ended up flying halfway across the yard, and that was enough
for me. "She just don't like Injuns," Jason said
holding me in his strong, sunburned arms
while I tried to catch my breath
and I tried not to cry.

he married young, so young, and his wife
tried to kill me the first time she met me
a twenty-year-old maniac who drove with a kitchen knife laying in her lap
told me he had confessed to being in love with me
told her all sorts of quiet things about me
I tried to explain that things happen when kids grow up together
sure as curious farm animals, cats and dogs in heat
but she didn't just didn't want to listen.




Midnight Caller

at night the
angry thud of the
dishwasher

sounds like monsters
the groan
of the house quietly settling sounds like

prowlers
I can almost see the deranged face
of my family's murderer pressed against

the glass
sliding doors.




The New Place, The New Thing

I will know I have lived a good life
when everything I own
at the time of my death
can fit into a shoebox
you can slip under the bed
so when you want to talk
or just remember
you can reach down beneath the covers
and pull all of me out
the poems, our rings
the last good photographs
of the two of us together
we can always be together.
I won't take up much room.


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Holly Day is a housewife and mother of two living in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Her poetry has recently appeared in The Oxford American, The Midwest Quarterly, and Coal City Review. She recently co-authored the book, Guitar All-in-One for Dummies, with guitarist Jim Peterik of the band Survivor, and just finished writing the second edition of another of her books, Music Theory for Dummies.


Comments (closed)

nativedancer
2011-07-20 10:52:06

she hits hard and deep, always has, and never fails to engage her reader head-on.
i don't know from guitar, but her poetry aint for dummies.