The Cenacle | 121 | Autumn 2022 | *Just Released*

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Cenacle
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The Cenacle | 121 | Autumn 2022 | *Just Released*

Post by Cenacle » December 6th, 2022, 10:02 am

The Cenacle | 121 | Autumn 2022
http://www.scriptorpress.com/cenacle/121
(Size = 10.9 MB)

Hello everyone,

Here comes the just-released Cenacle | 121 | Autumn 2022! It was the October 2022 issue originally but, because of delays, it’s been dated more accurately to its release. Never been an Autumn issue in 27 years of this journal!

This issue features new poetry by Tamara Miles, Martina Reisz Newberry, Judih Weinstein Haggai, Jo Monea, Colin James, Tom Sheehan, Ace Boggess, Sam Knot, Gregory Kelly, & myself.

Also new fiction by Timothy Vilgiate, Algernon Beagle, & myself. And classic fiction from The Arabian Nights.

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

There is also new graphic artwork by Kassandra Soulard, Sam Knot, Tamara Miles, Jo Monea, Nathan D. Horowitz, Timothy Vilgiate, Judih Weinstein Haggai, AbandonView, Michael Couvaras, Epi Rogan, Kenzie Oliver, & Louis Staeble.

Contents of this new issue include:

From Soulard’s Notebooks: [Excerpt]

Hope can be difficult sometimes to raise up, maintain, lose sometimes & do the work to get back again. I struggle as much with all this as anyone reading these lines.

* * * * * *

Feedback on Cenacle 120: [Excerpt]

Judih Weinstein Haggai’s poem “His Flute”: I feel this in my bones, in my very DNA. I feel I’ve been the pilgrim as well as the ancestors, and even the song of the flute itself. This is one of those poems that brings you back to your essence. (Jo Monea)

* * * * * *

From the ElectroLounge Forums:
What Books Changed You? [Excerpt]


I was in charge when I was the Red Queen. I could play with White Rabbit. I could dream and wonder with the Caterpillar. I could have a best friend in the White Knight. I would be invited to tea parties. I could eat strange foods and never get sick. I could be whisked away from wherever I really was to where I might want to be. (Martina Reisz Newberry)

* * * * * *

Prose-Poetry by Gregory Kelly: [Excerpt]

if only i was God. i could alight with each and walk where they walked. step for step. and
breath for breath. and like the banks of a river, i would never impede their flow. but i would
buffer them wherever they go. so they could live life abundant while i deal with much of the
blows that often come our way.


* * * * * *

Notes from New England: Six Mid-Autumn Days,
During Current Pandemic, October 25-31, 2022
by Raymond Soulard, Jr.: [Excerpt]


Over to my right, the wooden steps down. Near the top of them, an old-fashioned-style radio sets on a little table, usually plays the Dreamland Jazz radio station. Above it, a clock in the form of a black cat with crazy shifting eyes & swinging red tail. KC Klock. KD’s armchair nearby, its foot-rest in its seat. Persian-style throw-rug on the recently laid floor of black wooden tiles. Fan, heater, AC. Lotta boxes in corners.

* * * * * *

Poetry by Tamara Miles: [Excerpt]

Swift comes the blush rose to decay,
tossed on graves given our goodbyes to say,
it bears what everyone of us should know—

To go bold as we are, mortal, as we are brief,
be crimson, pale, or pink, but make a show.


* * * * * *

Dialogue on The Present by Jimmy Heffernan: [Excerpt]

I often get confused when people say that: a) we are living in a democracy; b) we ought to be living in a democracy; and/or c) our democracy equates with genuine liberty. Allow me to state the reasons why.

* * * * * *

Poetry by Tom Sheehan: [Excerpt]

Deep in the August field,
I loll with mice and deer,
and the jawboned lightning
playing wild war games
all across a sky’s blue air.


* * * * * *

Poetry by Sam Knot: [Excerpt]

A century before my time
The first metaphorical flower children arrived
But it wasn’t until Our Earth reached her prime
That my people would literally blossom


* * * * * *

Poetry by Judih Weinstein Haggai: [Excerpt]

poet’s psalm
pleas for a sign from above
thunder rocks the night


* * * * * *

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


For “Processional,” & the two poems that follow, I worked from research I done into the Eleusinian Mysteries. A week-long event in Ancient Greece for nearly 2,000 years (until about 400 AD), it was a pageant & processional that led participants from bathing in the sea to tripping together in the cave of the Telesterion.

* * * * * *

Poetry by Martina Newberry: [Excerpt]

Once again, fallen angel,
you have showed me
who I really am.
I walk slowly to my door,
then in to the very small kitchen.


* * * * * *

How Eva Became Christian (And How I Became Nathan) by Nathan D. Horowitz [Travel Journal]: [Excerpt]

Sleeping long these nights. In dreams, they speak my language. Yesterday the only people I talked to were kids, mostly just in greeting. Raúl’s son Lenín, whose nickname is Doctor, came to my hut just before sundown to karate-fight with me, and show me his new cap gun. When the light started fading, the Doctor left, having cured me of isolation.

* * * * * *

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

I study him through the shaft, as though its motes
could reveal this man truer than what little
I know. Striped knit cap, black & white, slouched low
as ever on his head. White spiked teeth, yet not fangs.
Long grey overcoat. Brown pants. Tall white boots.


* * * * * *

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

A bright, searing light that makes me shut my eyes in pain and, when I open them again, my vision has split into scattered, staggered frames that vaguely reflects some distant, fishbowled universe, like I am seeing through the eyes of two people at once. I blink, and the world staggers back into focus with a flickering after-glare.

* * * * * *

Poetry by Jo Monea: [Excerpt]

she is infinite, yet she exists in finite form

* * * * * *

Cyber Big Brother and the Cloud by Charlie Beyer: [Excerpt]

Yet, in modern times, these more obvious kinds of lawbreakers have become more obscured in our over-populated Malthusian cities. Information on all kinds of felons, or potential felons, is now available to Cyber Big Brother, via a sophisticated technology known as cloud computing, or “the Cloud” for short. The Cloud is not a physical entity, but instead is a vast network of remote servers around the globe that are hooked together, and meant to operate as a single ecosystem.

* * * * * *

Poetry by Ace Boggess: [Excerpt]

She put the cat out before sex:
token through the slotted door,
how I knew
dim lights would break into candle
blades, orange-scented incense
sending smoky brushstrokes
to paint an invitation.


* * * * * *

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

What’s most exciting now to tell here, Dear Readers, is how we all produced another glorious Grand Production, to be enjoyed among all the local neighbors of Bags End, including Imagianna, Dreamland, Creature Common, Bunny Pillow & Dream Pillow Farm, the caves & tunnels below the Tangled Gate, & of course all the watching crowds in the Thought Fleas’ Great Clearing in the White Woods. Not to mention our good friends in Oz & Narnia & Wonderland & the Hundred Acre Wood, & others!

* * * * * *

Poetry by Colin James: [Excerpt]

One middle-aged lady was a maybe.
I circle back to see if she’s gotten lost,
find her bathing naked in a cold stream,
shivering until the moon breaches.


* * * * * *

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

Friends, when I returned to Baghdad, and to the society of my family and friends and companions, I lived in the utmost happiness, pleasure, and ease, and forgot what I had experienced, because of my great profit, and my immersion in sport and mirth in the society of friends and companions.

* * * * * *

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

The paper is soft, like bark, & many blended colors, like a rainbow? Miss Flossie’s visage is rendered upon it, & the words read: “Miss Flossie Flea promises that all will discover their hidden talents at the Rutabaga Festival! Come one, come all!” And signed in a strange, girlish paw by Miss Flossie. Hm. I believe her.

* * * * * *

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

Peace,
Raymond

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