The Cenacle | 127 | April 2025 *Just Released*

[Cenacle]

News from Scriptor Press | #110 | May 2, 2025

*In this issue*

The Cenacle | 127 | April 2025 | 30th Anniversary Issue!
https://scriptorpress.com/cenacle/127
(Size = 15.1 MB)

Hello everyone,

Here comes the just-released Cenacle | 127 | April 2025. And 30 years! And still going! Wowza! So cool.

And you, yes you, reading these words, you are still going too. Times are tough, because assholes willed it so. But you are tougher. Yes, you, reading these words. You, & me, & a lot of other people. Millions of them. You know what bullies are like, how they act, how they lie. How they justify, shift blame, hurt & hurt & hurt, & complain when anyone raises a protest.

But you. And you. And you, there. You know bullies turn to sorry, cowardly dough when pushed back on, by enough people, for long enough time. And this time of doing this, till they fall, sucks. But you, & you, & you, & fuck-yes me too, ain’t going to stop till that doughy, evil, man-shaped shit running things, for the moment, is pushed out the door.

Been hard these past few months, especially thinking about how it might have been. But you, me, that is We, ever expanding We, ain’t gonna stop. To take an occasional breath? Sure. Turn off the machines & go grok a pretty tree, so many to choose from! Sure. But, in sum, We are going to win. Push back the Lunatick Faux King. Again, & again, & again, till he dribbles back where evil goes when it’s laughed it too many times.

So take these thoughts, these words of encouragement, as where I stand on things. Where Scriptor Press New England stands on matters these days. 30 years & still going! What else? Let’s see . . .

This anniversary issue features new poetry by Madelaine Taylah, Tamara Miles, Martina Reisz Newberry, Colin James, Judih Weinstein Haggai, & myself.

Also new fiction by Timothy Vilgiate, Algernon Beagle, & myself. And classic fiction from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

And new prose pieces by Sam Knot, Nathan D. Horowitz, Charlie Beyer, Jimmy Heffernan, & myself.

There is also new graphic artwork by AbandonView, Epi Rogan, Louis Staeble, Kassandra Soulard, Tamara Miles, Madeleine Taylah, & Sam Knot.

Contents of this new issue include:

From Soulard’s Notebooks [Excerpt]

The Cenacle will be here for as many years as I can get up in the morning, nod, & start a new day. It will do what it does, & cheerlead countless others too.

* * * * * *

Feedback on Cenacle 126 [Excerpt]

I was particularly taken by Louis Staeble and his explosions of flora. I was asking myself, “How can Nature do this? How does she have the unmitigated gall to be beautiful, to rise up and bloom, to outdo even Herself?” His use of framing and color is that of a pro, and as the various species come into focus, we are both drawn away and drawn in; in the former, to a realm between Nature and Heaven, and in the latter, to a world that is both finite and infinite. Bravo, Louis! (Jimmy Heffernan)

* * * * * *

From the ElectroLounge Forums:
Selections from Unknot 24, Part 4 [Excerpt]


Why not terrify yourself with some compassionate spiritual stalking at some point? See yourself through the eyes of an “alien” hunter who will ethically end the suffering you call life, putting every bit of your soul to good use in clothing & feeding their higher being? (Sam Knot)

* * * * * *

Poetry by Judih Weinstein Haggai [Excerpt]

beautiful april
about to make her exit
final embraces

* * * * * *

Notes from New England:
Dream Raps, Volume Fourteen
[Excerpt]
by Raymond Soulard, Jr.

“Along my long travels, on that other mission to the Moon, I heard of a language called Urhu. No details. It was just an odd word I long recalled. Then, much later, I came upon a pamphlet about Urhu, but I didn’t have it for long. No time to memorize it, front to back. Then, recently, it came back into my possession.” Mulronie shows around to the circle of friendly faces of different kinds a grimy, battered pamphlet.

* * * * * *

Peaceful Evenings in the Hut (Travel Journal) [Excerpt]
by Nathan D. Horowitz

The kids here have learned to whistle through their cupped hands. They’ve gotten good. This evening just after nightfall, some were around various sides of the soccer field, warbling like night birds. Two boys were near this hut when I went to the pump to get water. I taught them to squawk with a blade of grass held between the thumbs. They picked it up immediately. I’m not sure who they were: it was too dark to see their faces.

* * * * * *

Poetry by Martina Newberry [Excerpt]

If mountain gorillas could write,
it would be as if scripture were written on rocks,
as if wastelands could turn tall weeds
into strands of gold,
as if nights and days are of equal darkness,
as if the large silver globe is not the moon
or a newly-discovered star,
as if words spilled from their mouths,
and sailed on the ocean like frightened exiles,
like tumultuous multitudes of gulls.

* * * * * *

Lamb’s Head Soup
by Sam Knot (Prose) [Excerpt]

The military’s biggest problem likewise is the soldier. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear the drone framed in terms of ethical warfare, but even if you remove the human element you’ll just displace the anxiety of the coup. We’ll just fucking hack you. The greatest peace protest the world has ever seen is a flutter in the heart of the war machine.

* * * * * *

Poetry by Madeleine Taylah [Excerpt]

Chasing You—who appears to
Me at sunsets. In battered, apocalyptic
Skies. Smashing monologue paint balls
Of Calypso Berry, Jupiter Moons & Spiced Butternut
You threw them flat stick, your
Forearms splintering. Electrified fingertips,
They reached, tight, like branches strained and
Amiss.

* * * * * *

Bags End Book #22: Uniting the Six Islands Part 2 (Fiction) [Excerpt]
by Algernon Beagle

I can’t say all this stuff about the Ancient Six Islands makes full sense to me yet, but at least I don’t feel totally behind somehow yet. I mean, I know about, & have rited about in this beloved newspaper, how long ago the Six Islands were clustered together like Creatures, until something fell from the sky & spooked them to panic & flee from each other. And it was Princess Crissy who had kind of set me off on this present story’s path to unite the Six Islands again.

* * * * * *

Rivers of the Mind (A Novel) [Excerpt]
by Timothy Vilgiate

Trying to understand them, how they work, how he works, how any of this works, makes the English part of my brain crumble until it succumbs to stupefied and over-stimulated awe. As he approaches, I begin to study his hands, if that is indeed what they are: long bushels with hundreds of squirming flowers, each one pouring out dense smoke. Kneeling down to get a closer look at me, his mouth opens and, from within it, comes the sounds of gnarled, crumbling steel.

* * * * * *

Poetry by Tamara Miles [Excerpt]

We are never out of his sight.
We are precious in his sight.
To show us, he arrives as an old
Weimaraner at the end of a couch;
her long paws rest on the edge,
one flop of ear over each,
eyes already drawing down in sleep.

* * * * * *

Mad Jack (Prose) [Excerpt]
by Charlie Beyer

I maneuver the trailer in over their rack and disconnect the truck with the lunatic thrashing about inside. He is swinging his body side to side as though we were racing on a curvy road. He still mumbles on with bursts of “haha!” and other exclamations for no reason. I don’t really want my new mechanics freaking out from the nutcase, so I back the truck out and park where he cannot be seen.

* * * * * *

Many Musics, Twelfth Series
by Raymond Soulard, Jr. [Excerpt]

We seven could be alone forever tonight
on this Beach of no senses when among us
appear three faces. Once the known & loved visage of
Abe the Ancient Sea Turtle, his beautiful ageless
eyes set deeply above his slightly smirking
beakéd mouth.

* * * * * *

Notes on the Native American Spirituality
by Jimmy Heffernan [Excerpt]

In Native languages, there are no words for “religion” or “art.” For them, reality, religion, art, essence, belief, subsistence, craft, the ordinary, the numinous—all are interwoven into one whole. The Westerner might like to categorize Native American culture in the manner of an anthropologist, but the Native American, much as he might like to answer, would not be able to delineate any specific categories in his existence were he asked to do so. The anthropologist would have to use a lot of ethnographic elbow grease and be very patient if she would like to make Indian culture categorical for non-Indians.

* * * * * *

The Hound of the Baskervilles (Classic Fiction) [Excerpt]
by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

I had no opportunity to tell the baronet what I had learned about Mrs. Lyons upon the evening before, for Dr. Mortimer remained with him at cards until it was very late. At breakfast, however, I informed him about my discovery, and asked him whether he would care to accompany me to Coombe Tracey. At first he was very eager to come, but on second thoughts it seemed to both of us that if I went alone the results might be better. The more formal we made the visit the less information we might obtain. I left Sir Henry behind, therefore, not without some prickings of conscience, and drove off upon my new quest.

* * * * * *

Poetry by Colin James [Excerpt]

Jodie hardly looked at her breakfast,
sang out the back door,
heading for the crop circles again.
I know someone is watching me.

* * * * * *

Labyrinthine [A New Fixtion] [Excerpt]
by Raymond Soulard, Jr.

I’ve been reading old poetry of late—
old old poetry, Egyptian cosmogony—

They would explain creation as arriving from back-when naturally & only to the current ruler & empire—

I like that without an idea for it yet—

* * * * * *

Respond with your feedback here — or by email at editor@scriptorpress.com

Peace,
Raymond Soulard, Jr.
Scriptor Press New England
scriptorpress.com
editor@scriptorpress.com