T HE C ENACLE / A PRIL - The ElectroLounge
T HE C ENACLE / A PRIL - The ElectroLounge
T HE C ENACLE / A PRIL - The ElectroLounge
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33<br />
risk of not risking, until you’ve tried it all & do it all & be it all<br />
you haven’t, & time passes, & you probably won’t, & time is up<br />
& you didn’t, most of us on a deathbed only once, yet most of<br />
us live like our lawless carnal hedonist mad dreams didn’t<br />
exist, most of us behave without prompting, cower while not<br />
compelled, will settle for whatever pathetic little we are given,<br />
adjust our internal mathematics lower & lower, our breeze a<br />
hurricane, our Malden an Emerald City, our deepest desires TV<br />
dinner on the couch—<br />
On the credits page is now included mention of all other Scriptor<br />
Press projects: Electrolounge, RaiBooks, Scriptor Press Sampler,<br />
“Within’s Within,” & of course the Jellicle Guild.<br />
<strong>The</strong> many Seattle poems Ric Amante has been writing he culled<br />
& reworked & Barbara illustrated them & the resulting piece was<br />
called “Ferry Tales.” A piece of artwork by a person named Harold<br />
Cunniff appeared. He’d seen SPS 1999 #1 at one of its distribution<br />
points in Boston & submitted to it not ever having seen <strong>The</strong> Cenacle!<br />
Mark Shorette’s story “Wherefore” marked his first fiction in <strong>The</strong><br />
Cenacle since 1995:<br />
Incantation of the eyes.<br />
Behold, behold, the shining retinas which merge dualities<br />
into singleness<br />
singleness which transcends the two from<br />
which it was<br />
whelped<br />
for singleness is the birth of the hound of<br />
heaven<br />
behold in shining sleekness as she courses<br />
about the<br />
perimeter of time<br />
young eyes behold always<br />
old eyes behold, as death approaches<br />
between, the gaze is broken, but by a few,<br />
selected, chosen<br />
by the handsome courser as she goes along, chasing the<br />
deceitful prey.<br />
How glorious in pursuit is she!<br />
Ciccone’s contribution is a 4-page poem called “Merwin” dedicated to<br />
his poetic mentor:<br />
But for today, unmet friend,<br />
all there is through the lens of this window are the same<br />
stone towers, the highway with its tumbling whir<br />
unending, beside the tracks that give way at times to the<br />
windless train bearing off its dead, the puff of birds with their<br />
<strong>The</strong> Cenacle / 50 / December 2003