The Cenacle | 110 | December 2019 | *Just Released*

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Cenacle
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The Cenacle | 110 | December 2019 | *Just Released*

Post by Cenacle » February 4th, 2020, 8:22 pm

The Cenacle | 110 | December 2019
Reading link: http://www.scriptorpress.com/cenacle/110.html
Download link: http://www.scriptorpress.com/cenacle/11 ... r_2019.pdf
[Size = 10.1 MB]

Hello everyone,

Here comes the just-released Cenacle | 110 | December 2019. It is wealthy with great writings & graphic arts. You will enjoy! Contents include:

From Soulard’s Notebooks:
[Excerpt]
I worked in this building from 2012 until 2019, till I was suddenly laid off in July, for no good reason at all—that was July 24—I came back a week later to return things & pick up things—& fell down the back entrance metal stairs—damaged my glasses, banged up my face—an Uber driver kindly tended me home & KD took care of the rest.

Feedback on Cenacle 109:
Judih Haggai offers northern Israel desert haiku, as austere as helium, and as light.
[Nathan D. Horowitz]

From the ElectroLounge Forums:
Post a Poem You Like!

Siphonaptera
by Augustus De Morgan
[Excerpt]
Great fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite ’em;
And little fleas have lesser fleas, and so ad infinitum.
And the great fleas themselves, in turn, have greater fleas to go on;
While these again have greater still, and greater still, and so on.
[Posted by Jimmy Heffernan]

Many Musics (Poetry) by Raymond Soulard, Jr.:
[Excerpt]
There are wisps of song, of a kind with
my despairing, like my dear Singer
of childly yore. I reach toward them &
they settle like a hummingbird on my
outstretched finger.

Notes from New England by Raymond Soulard, Jr.:
[Excerpt]

Reflections on Making
The Tangled Gate [Redux]
[Excerpt]
I was aflame with those first 36 TG poems, written one a day, mostly on buses I rode to work (via Harvard Square)(to the job that laid me off this past July). These poems felt like the culmination of years of working disparate narratives & ideas & characters into a single something. Then years reacting to those poems, to the greater expanse I had found with them.

Poetry by Sam Knot:
[Excerpt]
The wide beach, the long sweep of the bay,
draws my gaze, too tired & dizzy to catch
all this mirage might say. I seek the one
rapidly disappearing patch of shade,
breathing a sigh of relief
among the salt poppies.

The Crocodile King of Belize (Prose) by Charlie Beyer:
[Excerpt]
The tropical sun rises red behind the silhouette of spiky jungle trees. The air is still cool with the passing of the night air. The thumping of the idling bus motors can be heard throughout the village of San Marcos. A howler monkey hoots in the concealed jungle behind them, while a flock of arguing parrots flies above on their daily migration to the sea.

Poetry by Judih Haggai:
[Excerpt]
winter sunshine
all anxieties dissolve
sensation of peace

Poetry by Tamara Miles & John Echem:
[Excerpt]
I go in my imagination, a volcanic flow of color—
ride down river, gaze at mountain ranges,
then sleep soundly in my glamping cabin lit by lantern.

Poetry by Martina Newberry:
[Excerpt]
When I read how it was that one million Thai children
gathered at a Buddhist temple to meditate for world peace,
I stopped reading to stay silent and worshipful—
not quite a meditation, but quiet. I am nothing if not respectful of magic.

States of Mercy (More Excerpts from a Novel) by Ace Boggess:
I’d transferred from a much bigger university out west because my grades were too low. So here I was back home in Frozen Orange, Pennsylvania, a city I loathed for years in that way one can only despise one’s hometown. I’d moved back in with my parents, which made the whole experience that much more painful. I hated the state I was in. I hated being alone, being at home, being human. I needed distractions, and quickly. Trapped in a city my closest friends had fled, I headed out that Friday night at the start of the first summer term, intent on drowning my sorrows in Jack Daniel’s and Coke at a local bar.
Green Star Soup (Travel Journal) by Nathan D. Horowitz:
[Excerpt]
Jade towers under lapis lazuli sky, San Pedro is a tall, modestly-branching, nearly spineless cactus, widespread in the Andes. Its Quichua name is wachuma, giving rise to the Spanish verb chumar, to trip, and the English verb I invented, to choom. San Pedro is what gave Quebec Francois thundering choom-visions of butterflies and sky-webs. Surrounding San Pedro’s white, woody core, I understood from my reading, is a thick layer of peyote-like emerald flesh packed with mescaline. I kept seeing San Pedros in the front of banks, and in traffic circles, and imagining spiriting them away in the dead of night and brewing them up. But I knew that would be morally wrong and psychologically disastrous. And what if the policia turned on their disco lights and sirens as I sprinted down an avenue, a nine-foot cactus balanced on my shoulder like a Tagaeri spear?

Poetry by Colin James:
[Excerpt]
Washed my socks in the sink.
Walked around barefoot while
they dried on a radiator.
I only have one pair now.

Notes on God by Jimmy Heffernan:
[Excerpt]
Nature is an independent process based upon necessity and contingency, or order and chaos. Thus the appearance and evolution of life are a development made possible by the rules of the simulation (which also needn’t have been chosen). So we should stop blaming a God or gods for our messes, and start taking responsibility for them ourselves.

Bags End Book #15: It Was a Dream of Rain, Part 1 by Algernon Beagle
[Excerpt]
When this story began, it was with a dream of rain. Peaceful, yes, but this rain was inside Bags End, & Bags End seemed empty of everyone I had ever known.

Classic Poetry by Octavio Paz
[Excerpt]
a crystal willow, a poplar of water,
a tall fountain the wind arches over,
a tree deep-rooted yet dancing still,
a course of a river that turns, moves on,
doubles back, and comes full circle,
forever arriving:

Poetry by Tom Sheehan
[Excerpt]
All the darkness came at once, hooded
over us like a bird shadowing its wings
above shallow water snails, river’s
white meat in the lesser turbulence.

Session Games People Play: A Manual for the Use of LSD by Lisa Bieberman
[Excerpt]
So you’ve had LSD. It was your own unique experience. You may be wondering whether various aspects of your session were typical or not. Undoubtedly some were and some weren’t. Since you are a unique person, your experience was not quite like anybody else’s. If, in the coming weeks, you find, talking it over with your friends, that something happened to you that nobody else is expressing, that, at any rate, is very typical.

Labyrinthine [a new fixtion] by Raymond Soulard, Jr.:
[Excerpt]
Mac-Donald’s & Hall-o-ween & New Britain I keep coming here like some retreat to the expensive wilds I come to this poor city of my agos & live here a few days of the year—found out today I might end up working in ZombieTown, Mass. awhile or longer—wowza

Email comments to this mailing list by simply hitting “reply” to this announcement—or reply to me directly at editor@scriptorpress.com

Peace,
Raymond

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judih
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Re: The Cenacle | 110 | December 2019 | *Just Released*

Post by judih » February 4th, 2020, 11:40 pm

a marvelous fascinating issue.
Recommended to click the link and read at your leisure.

Cenacle
Posts: 1122
Joined: February 15th, 2005, 6:04 pm
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Re: The Cenacle | 110 | December 2019 | *Just Released*

Post by Cenacle » February 19th, 2020, 6:39 pm

Thanks, Jude! Your ku in the issue makes it better! :)

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