The Cenacle | 120 | Summer 2022 *Just Released*

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The Cenacle | 120 | Summer 2022 *Just Released*

Post by Cenacle » September 25th, 2022, 2:33 pm

The Cenacle | 120 | Summer 2022
http://www.scriptorpress.com/cenacle/120
[Size = 12.9 MB]

Hello everyone,

Here comes the just-released Cenacle | 120 | Summer 2022!

This issue features wonderful contemporary poetry by Tamara Miles, Martina Reisz Newberry, Judih Weinstein Haggai, Jo Monea, Colin James, Tom Sheehan, & myself.

Also fine fiction by Ace Boggess, Sam Knot, Timothy Vilgiate, Algernon Beagle, & myself.

And great prose pieces by Jimmy Heffernan, Nathan D. Horowitz, Richard & Charlie Beyer, & myself.

There is also much fine graphic artwork by Kassandra Soulard, Sam Knot, Tamara Miles, Jo Monea, Nathan D. Horowitz, Timothy Vilgiate, Judih Weinstein Haggai, Martina Reisz Newberry, AbandonView, Michael Couvaras, Epi Rogan, & Louis Staeble!

Contents of this new issue include:

From Soulard’s Notebooks: [Excerpt]

Watching the world, & most especially the U.S., engage ever more in a kind of “pandemic denial,” is, to me, as, if not far more cynical, bleak, & pessimistic. A kind of fatalism that is, in its own way, every bit as bad as the pandemic itself. As though nothing can be done to stop people from getting sick, or really sick, or dying. Vaccines, masks, social distancing—none of these work if most do not engage them as tools & behaviors. Engaged, all of them work.

* * * * * *

Feedback on Cenacle 119: [Excerpt]

The pages of the issue hold together like a close community. It’s a diverse group of folks making good trouble. I expect things to happen in this haven for creators. There is music here. Free form like jazz. (Louis Staeble)

* * * * * *

From the ElectroLounge Forums:
Remembering Your Early Artwork Challenge!: [Excerpt]

When I read this challenge, I thought of my first book project. I was in high school (1970) and, through brainstorming with myself and a whacky friend, I concocted the idea of a world built of two parallel forces. The higher ruled everything, effortlessly, while the lower, known as the Blobs, drifted through their life’s duties, seeing nothing in their future but more drudgery. (Judih Haggai)

* * * * * *

Poetry by Judih Weinstein Haggai: [Excerpt]

vase of dried flowers
object of her affection
for better or worse

* * * * * *

Of Glyphs and Other Things: Poet Martina Reisz Newberry
Interviewed by Judih Weinstein Haggai: [Excerpt]

I think that there are so many issues all rolled up into one big scary ball that feels like it’s leading to something apocalyptic: constant wars, disrespect for the planet, despotism, new diseases. All the things that keep us strangers to each other. I’m not ashamed of being terrified a good deal of the time, nor of sometimes losing hope. The pressing issues are always there and feel, to me, like they’re getting worse instead of better.

* * * * * *

Poetry by Martina Newberry: [Excerpt]

At his home, there are small bowls
of shelled walnuts and pecans, cut apples
and red wine redolent with the warmth
of earth and stem. Never again strangers,
your own heat and your bodies betray
your fierce longings for the near-sacrament
of your weekend’s excavations.

* * * * * *

Notes from New England: The Great Grand Braided Narrative
[Gr. Gr. Br. N. for friendly], Part 2
by Raymond Soulard, Jr.: [Excerpt]

Us having both remembered some things now, we luck into a Boat-Wagon trip with the Kittees & Friend Fish to the Bungalow Cee, where Asoyadonna & I end up briefly back in the Attic (that is, here), before heading back to the Rutabaga Festival. There, I leave her in the good company of Miss Flossie Flea to tour its highlights.

* * * * * *

Mabon Calling (Fiction) by Sam Knot: [Excerpt]

And here we are, supposedly the most advanced and civilized we’ve ever been, with our perfect cities, our nigh-invisible technologies, and yet still needing to fill ourselves to the brim with the giggles of tiny mushrooms that we actually half-believe might be elves after all. And we are sat in a house that is based on a design that might just as well be as old as time, laughing the same laughs at the same lines we have been laughing at for thousands of years—at the least—and then laughing at laughter itself. Laughing at our own eternally overactive imaginations, our love of absurdity, and the ways we quite naturally distort reality which, after all, probably doesn’t really exist and, even if it does, must do so impossibly.

* * * * * *

Many Musics (Poetry) by Raymond Soulard, Jr.: [Excerpt]

Twas atwist of events, & Gate-Keeper never sure of
which order, or it yet too mixed to know.
Twas come luring again that strange traveling
music, Laaa! Many voices. Many, merry
voices. And so he followed, forgetting & remembering,
by many turns, his search for Mentor & Roddy.
These White Woods wildly a-flutter with this
story & game & braided ecstasy of a song.

* * * * * *

The Natural History of the Sasquatch by Richard & Charlie Beyer: [Excerpt]

The strength of a Sasquatch is astonishing. It can twist a young pine tree ten inches in diameter off its stump, or shake a fir tree until all its bark falls off. A hunter in the Pacific Northwest came across a Sasquatch “nest” in which a depression had been packed with twisted off six-inch trees. The bedding area was matted with wire-like rust-colored hair. The stench was enormous. Upon returning with associates to display the find, the entire area was found to have been logged, and the site destroyed.

* * * * * *

Poetry by Tamara Miles: [Excerpt]

I see your trees are burning,
Even the metasequoia glyptostroboides.
I learned the scientific name
from satellite television.

* * * * * *

Miserable (Fiction) by Ace Boggess: [Excerpt]

When the train arrived, Carol and Calvin stepped forward at the same time, their feet moving in rhythm as if those of two clarinetists in a marching band. Calvin paused at the entrance, and allowed his wife to climb aboard first. He followed, watching her sit on the far side. He chose to stand, looking away from her at first, not knowing how it would begin. There’d be a wound to start it off, but one of them had to choose the dagger.

* * * * * *

Secret Joy Amongst These Times: The History of Scriptor Press, 1995 to the Present
by Raymond Soulard, Jr.: [Excerpt]

The little man is a fixtionalized version of a man I encountered at that time every weekday of my waking hours. A friendly security guard sitting on a stool in front of a little shack at the parking lot I’d pass through on route to my nearby workplace. I’d pass him many days having just minutes before finished the day’s Tangled Gate poem.

* * * * * *

Poetry by Tom Sheehan: [Excerpt]

There’s an odd weight at the back of my head,
the way crickets hang their parachutes in trees, or peepers,
I’m never sure which because their density’s heavier by equations,
and I was never very good at math.

* * * * * *

Dialogue on The Present by Jimmy Heffernan: [Excerpt]

It is indeed a paradox that the “present” is usually considered to be a sliver, a point—a differential, in calculus terms—yet, in our everyday awareness, the present seems to be spread over two or three seconds. There is therefore some overlap between past and future, and this brings into question a lot of the comments one reads made about the “present moment,” often described as eternal.

* * * * * *

Testing Me (Travel Journal) by Nathan D. Horowitz: [Excerpt]

Before sunset, at the pump, I ran into Rolando’s wiry older brother Sebastian, who, as I have
mentioned, looks like a jovial Julius Caesar with his eyes looking in different directions. He and I did an impromptu comedy routine for one of the other teachers and her son and some other kids. They nearly fell on the ground laughing. Everyone has seen martial arts movies in Lago Agrio. Sebastián and I did a fight scene in slow motion, chopping and kicking and punching each other, screaming as we did so, miming great pain when we got hit; a skinny old indígena in a long blue tunic against a gigantic white guy in shorts and a t-shirt. Naturally, we fought to a draw.

* * * * * *

Poetry by Colin James: [Excerpt]

I am now able to sense a chorus of townspeople,
even observe them gather on a moonlit hill.
They are transporting something in chains
and thick ropes, and are not quiet about it.
This phenomena is, weather willing, seasonal.

* * * * * *

Bags End Book #20: Go Into the Sea! Part 2 by Algernon Beagle: [Excerpt]

I closed mah eyes & saw that we were all there walking down a Glowing Hallway like I had thinked. It was sort of bloo like Betsy, & yellow like Dorris, but blended together. CC was in the lead, MeZmer & Holly together just in front of me, & I looked back & saw Crissy’s smiling face looking at me. Guarding, as is her way. She was glowing, like we all were, but her long coat was so bright I could see all the Secret Books tucked into its many pockets.

* * * * * *

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

But time is only one of seven dimensions he can perceive beyond height, width, and depth. He always checks his last words in the paper to see what kind of reality he is starting out in, since it changes whenever he dies. His last words change too, depending on the timeline. Sometimes the paper says he screamed and screamed, begging for it to stop. Other times, he boasted through maniacal cackles that he was the devil, and that the whole world would soon become his slaves. In some, he whispered dreamy words about angels, universal peace, castles of light. Once, they said he didn’t say a thing . . . he just stared and stared at the wall until his heart stopped beating.

* * * * * *

Poetry by Jo Monea: [Excerpt]

i make small
yet big
moves of progress
and yet
i cannot seem
to shake
the despair

* * * * * *

The Story of Sindbad the Sailor from The Arabian Nights (Classic Fiction): [Excerpt]

I felt extremely unhappy and outraged, and my spleen was about to burst from the severity of my anxiety, grief, and fatigue, for I was all alone with nothing of worldly goods, and without food or drink. I felt desolate and despaired of life, saying to myself, “Not every time the jar is saved in time. If I escaped safely the first time, by finding someone who took me with him from the shore of that island to the inhabited part, this time I am very far from the prospect of finding someone who will deliver me out of here.”

* * * * * *

Labyrinthine [a new fixtion] by Raymond Soulard, Jr.: [Excerpt]

These White Woods ever beautiful to pass through. More kinds of trees than I could imagine to know. Few paths through them, & of course such as Creatures & Thought Fleas do not need paths to travel. I wonder at all I do not know about this wondrous place.

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

Peace,
Raymond

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Re: The Cenacle | 120 | Summer 2022 *Just Released*

Post by judih » September 27th, 2022, 12:54 pm

looks like a fabulous issue, Ray!

Cenacle
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Re: The Cenacle | 120 | Summer 2022 *Just Released*

Post by Cenacle » October 1st, 2022, 10:12 am

Just to note for folks here - our dear Judih is in this issue not only as a poet, wonderful one, but also as a photographer, and also interviewer of her dear friend and fine poet too, Martina Newberry. Her work in this issue is various and wonderful. Gosh, take a look! :)

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