The Cenacle | 113 | October 2020
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Hello everyone,
Here comes the just-released Cenacle | 113 | October 2020. You will notice that many of its contents touches on the US elections happening this week. KD & I worked very hard over the weekend to release this issue in a timely way. That said, there are also contents to take you far away from the strife of politics. So many great writers & artists in this one!
Contents of this new issue include:
From Soulard’s Notebooks:
[Excerpt]
As our Election Day nears, I think of the story, maybe a old one, of the young man who left his war-ravaged Village & Island to seek a better chance in a new place. He travelled far in years & miles, & in his travels he learned many skills & kinds of wisdom.
Feedback on Cenacle 112
[Excerpt]
Sam Knot’s “A Kind of Butterfly Song” creates a sort of universal metaphor, transcending the simple beauty of the insect to show its patterns in the larger world. It makes for a fascinating thought experiment, and leaves the reader feeling a bit dreamlike in viewing everyday items or natural phenomena. Quite a fun poem to read. (Ace Boggess)
From the ElectroLounge Forums: Bubble Wrap!
[Excerpt]
Someone left the box at my door while I slept. When I rose to let the dogs out, I found it under the curious gaze of the sun god, who always wants us to find what shimmers. Wrapped in gold paper with royal purple ribbon, addressed to the Queen of the Universe. (Tamara Miles)
Poetry by Ben Gray
[Excerpt]
Be still tonight, my dear,
for the pitter-patter of the jaguar.
Some poems sing themselves.
Notes from New England:
Notes from the American Pandemic, July-October 2020
by Raymond Soulard, Jr.
[Excerpt]
Trump will try to steal this election and keep you from voting. He will try to invalidate the results. He
thinks he is more important than the Constitutional right of all Americans to vote, and to have their
vote counted. We must turn out by the millions to prove him wrong, send him and his whole crooked
operation packing. November 3, 2020 is when sanity starts to return to this country, and thus to the
rest of the world too.
Poetry by Gregory Kelly
[Excerpt]
even my exhaling lungs betrayed me. each breath breaking the sound barrier, syncopated, rain drops
picking up speed thundering son some storm cellar door
Memoir of a Boyhood in Cameroon and Nigeria
by John Echem (With Photos by Iphyok Inuenekpo Jnr)
[Excerpt]
We lived in many houses in the years of my boyhood, but the plank house on the street of Mbenge Mboka, in Mbonge, Southern Cameroons, Republic of Cameroon, is the most memorable to me. The slim chopped planks of the house, or karabot as it is locally called in the town of Mbonge, tugged on one another with termite-infested ribs. It was a big house, with rough lumps of earth that clumped in every nook and cranny, like mottled tree bark, or swellings on the stomach of a sickle cell victim. They were hardened by the fire rack—located at the far left corner of the house when you entered through the front door—such that each time I hit my toe against any of the lumps, it bled with red open flesh that was so peppery.
Poetry by Judih Haggai
[Excerpt]
do you feel the hope?
eyes closed and senses open
any minute now
Wholeness:
Excerpt from Unfolding Nature: Being in the Implicate Order
by Jimmy Heffernan:
[Excerpt]
I think some of the confusion might be addressed when one stops positing that particles and fields are the primary determinants of Nature. We usually think of atoms as the building blocks of the universe, but in reality atoms are just projections from the sub-quantum ground, as are space, time, and light. Atoms don’t determine everything; everything determines the atoms. And each and every atom has a fundamental role to play in the whole and undivided movement. But they are not building blocks whose basic existence explains all phenomena.
"Nature Remembers Everything":
Interview with Author Jimmy Heffernan
[Excerpt]
I have been thinking about these ideas in a desultory way for the better part of twenty years. Dr. Bohm originated the concept of the implicate and explicate orders, and I would say I first came into contact with these ideas through the writings of Robert Anton Wilson, especially in his book Quantum Psychology: How Brain Software Programs You & Your World which devotes considerable attention to Dr. Bohm.
Poetry by Sam Knot
[Excerpt]
This butterfly, dreaming herself a man,
opens and closes her wings soundlessly,
so as not to wake him.
Church in the Greenhouse [Pandemic Journal] by Tamara Miles
[Excerpt]
Elephant ears love the sunshine—we just have to keep the water coming to the roots, stand by and let them spread outward and upward. Having never had any before, I didn’t know how the process worked—the seed pod becomes a pale yellow bloom and, only when the bloom dies, do the berry-like seeds emerge, looking like corn on the cob, only bright red.
Poetry by Tom Sheehan
[Excerpt]
Before you pass this night,
show me the star
you’ll travel by,
one without a map,
and no destination,
but you mean to move
all the parts with you.
Wolves (Prose) by Charlie Beyer:
[Excerpt]
The pack howls in the morning, as sort of a lingering revery from the night. The pack howls in the evening, to collect all together for nighttime romping. What a chorus of furry throats! Last night they killed something in the dead of night, around 3AM. A dozen or more yawped on about it for an hour and a half. I listened, completely enthralled.
Many Musics (Poetry) by Raymond Soulard, Jr.:
[Excerpt]
Art, she loves chocolate & kisses
& rusted skylines,
& ideas of loving new & ancient,
burst of wild clock!
& slow . . . to . . . no . . . time—
Alone in Cabaña Supernatura (Travel Journal)
by Nathan D. Horowitz
[Excerpt]
It’s less comfortable to write now. A wasp came and extinguished one of my two candle flames by diving into it, then writhed on the floor in ecstatic agony. I lit my lighter off the remaining candle, relit the extinguished one, and burned the wasp to death—which was a moral failing, I think now. I burned my thumb in the process. My unconscious was punishing me. Or the wasp was fighting me at the level of the collective unconscious. Or I’m just dumb. Man is a theory-making animal and these are my theories.
Poetry by Martina Newberry:
[Excerpt]
How striking the red geraniums at your
new doorstep! How intense and somehow
meaningful the thump thump–like denim drums–
of rock music (Pink Floyd as I recall).
In the sun, moving a chair from your driveway,
your eyes glittered with promises and wishes.
Rivers of the Mind (A Novel) by Timothy Vilgiate
[Excerpt]
Dusty knew the truth. He had seen the alien spaceships being towed in inconspicuous-looking white semi-trucks down the highway. He had seen the men in suits claiming to be from some vague company entering the local Arby’s, or the H-E-B in Fredericksburg. He had seen the mysterious cave outside of Mason, pouring out carbon dioxide from some unknown source—a ventilation shaft for the massive underground military base he was confident existed deep under his town.
Bags End Book #16: What is the Red Bag? Part 2 by Algernon Beagle
[Excerpt]
I think that time has gotten a little weird on me lately, & I am still learning new ways it works. I used to think that a clock is a clock, & there you go. Like most things, tho, there’s other ways to go, too, if you wish or stumble into them.
Poetry by Ace Boggess:
[Excerpt]
Every year at this time,
I throw down with pollen allergies,
cold-like symptoms,
coughing the yawp of a losing voice.
The Metamorphosis (Classic Fiction) by Franz Kafka
[Excerpt]
T he serious injury done to Gregor, which disabled him for more than a month—the apple went on sticking in his body as a visible reminder, since no one ventured to remove it—seemed to have made even his father recollect that Gregor was a member of the family, despite his present unfortunate and repulsive shape, and ought not to be treated as an enemy; that, on the contrary, family duty required the suppression of disgust and the exercise of patience, nothing but patience.
Poetry by Colin James:
[Excerpt]
Now that the pseudonyms
have been found,
after a thousand years
buried in a farmer’s field,
maybe it is time not
to keep our deafness quiet,
specifically the temporal silences.
Labyrinthine [a new fixtion] by Raymond Soulard, Jr.:
[Excerpt]
Does braiding, its traces, only occur from then to now to hence? I don’t quite think so. History, memory, hope & fear help braid now, & these braid the future too. The future is yet unexperienced, but is not unknowable. We braid the future as we braid then & now.
Send comments simply hitting “reply” to this post—or reply to me directly at editor@scriptorpress.com.
Peace,
Raymond
The Cenacle | 113 | October 2020 | *Just Released*
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