The Cenacle | 95 | December 2015 *Just Released*

[Cenacle]

The Cenacle | 95 | December 2015
Reading link: http://www.scriptorpress.com/cenacle/95.html
Download link: http://www.scriptorpress.com/cenacle/95 ... r_2015.pdf
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Hello everyone,

Here comes the just-released Cenacle | 95 | December 2015. Being a December issue, it was a quick turn around issue, from work starting on it in early November, till finishing up just a few weeks ago. The issue has lots of returning contributors, plus KD’s wonderful graphic arts & design, plus our new poet, Jimmy Heffernan!

The new issue’s contents include:

From Soulard’s Notebooks:
[Sample] Don’t worry if others stare at you when you read your piece, show your picture, Does is breathe of your breath, bleed of your blood, is it funny or tragic in you heart? Did you spend yourself well in the creation?

Feedback on Cenacle 94
[Sample]
And so another Newberry piece walks by my door, catches my attention, stays awhile and, upon departure, leaves me feeling better! Thank you, Martina! [Judih Haggai]

Poetry by Jimmy Heffernan:
[Sample]
Material spirit
Who then can hear it?
It’s not too expensive
Quantum, to smear it

Poetry by Judih Haggai:
[Sample]
amongst the crowd
one disbeliever
in search of a friend

Poetry by Martina Newberry:
[Sample]
For the sake of this world, I continue to
commit the sin of waxing incoherent,
and the sin of percussive adjectives, and
the sin of describing what has been described

Poetry by Colin James:
[Sample]
The birds were of the rapture variety.
I didn’t have the strength
to look that high up.
A pox on your mythical warm air currents,
my ankle joint had locked.

Poetry by Tom Sheehan:
[Sample]
Sundown seeks initiatives and separates
elements, a slow folding away takes place,
as if I were in two rooms. Perhaps rainbow
in my eye is one I stole from it.

Poetry by Raymond Soulard, Jr.:
[Sample]
She comes out, shorter & greater than ever,
& sniffs Cordel’a’s palm. Cordel’a’s eyes
sparkle with delight. She gnaws the palm
a couple of times, just for show, & looks
up crazy-eyed at me. “We need to go to
Iris.” Not a word, maybe a cackle,
she leaps to the ground, speeds away.

Travel Journal by Nathan D. Horowitz:
[Sample] Later, inspired by different energies and a fresh cup of yagé, I stand up next to my hammock, not walking around, and dance very, very slowly, a Butoh dancer, my body changing into thousands of sculptures. The Norse runes come tumbling like fiery sparks up from the ground into the soles of my feet, up through my body, out through my curled fingers and tongue.

Travel Journal by Charlie Beyer:
[Sample] [T]his Hawaiian world is beautiful, barely tamed, abundant in strange and unusual life, and decorated with mostly nude people. Even the earth churns in creative geology, blowing its million-year breaths of fire, ever adding the earth’s core to the land above.

Notes from New England by Raymond Soulard, Jr.:
[Sample] The hard thing is that there is no easy path to re-connection. That needs time, proximity, & purpose—otherwise one is just passing by with memories, sentiment—What I feel like, in a way, is a sort of specter, here & not-here both, wondering what all those years around this place meant—or, asking it another way—what of all the people I knew then?—they lived on without me, from some point, & I them—

Interview with Dr. Timothy Leary:
[Sample] We are told by the ethnobotanists and by the neurologists that there are probably seventy or eighty or more receptor sites in the brain for seventy or eighty different kinds of drugs—all, by the way, coming from plants. And we discovered maybe the twentieth now: the coca leaf, the marijuana leaf, the poppy seed, the ergot on rye, which is LSD. But there are at least fifty plant products that we are going to be using in the next twenty years, so tough shit, Nancy—we’ve hardly begun this game [laughter on both sides].

An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge [Classic Fiction] by Ambrose Bierce
[Sample] The man who was engaged in being hanged was apparently about thirty-five years of age. He was a civilian, if one might judge from his habit, which was that of a planter. His features were good—a straight nose, firm mouth, broad forehead, from which his long, dark hair was combed straight back, falling behind his ears to the collar of his well-fitting frock coat. He wore a mustache and pointed beard, but no whiskers; his eyes were large and dark gray, and had a kindly expression which one would hardly have expected in one whose neck was in the hemp. Evidently this was no vulgar assassin. Ԁe liberal military code makes provision for hanging many kinds of persons, and gentlemen are not excluded.

The Paintings of Darren Grave [fiction] by Joe Coleman:
[Sample] The kindest remark ever heard about Basil Wallhard’s early paintings was that they were best appreciated by the blind.

Bags End Book #4: The Bunny Pillow Crusade! [fiction] by Algernon Beagle:
[Sample] The story I am going to tell you this time, dear readers, has to do with that strange & often grumpy pillow named Betsy Bunny Pillow. She & her crazed doings often make the headlines of mah newspaper, though I will say that rarely do I make it through the reportings of these stories without damage to mah body & mah brainbone both.

Labyrinthine [a new fixtion] by Raymond Soulard, Jr.:
[Sample] The Heroes had been summoned to the Island again, a surprise. It had happened while they were on a lecture tour, much demanded, in which they described their heroic adventures. One year, climbing the steep & rainy Mt. Cloudy Day. The next traveling far along the Imaginal Hikeway. And last year coming to the Island in very ancient times, traveling to the Great Cavern under the Tangled Gate, long before its big tree was tall, before even Creatures lived there.

Email comments to this thread—or reply to me directly & off-list at editor@scriptorpress.com

Peace,
Raymond