Raymond Soulard, Jr. New Songs (for Kassandra) - The ...

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60 how scary, how very fine— live among the tatters & glows of my own mind, & here is a painting of a man & woman dancing, very fine, & it becomes my emblem, raises my words into broad melodies live among others in what resembles right now my native world & here too a muse, a wife, a soulmate, arrived to queen that which has always awaited her— live among pages & here yet another, yet the same, a girlgodd, an artist, muse, delicious, very fine, yes suddenly, a scene: Jim Reality’s broad figure leads the whooping assemblage onto Reckoning Road, “New England Patriots, your 2002 Super Bowl XXXVI Champeens!” cops dunna get afeared but simple block both ends of the street & blare their sirens— Knickerbocker remains alone in the bar, a Patriots baseball cap askew on his head, a fist drunkenly shaking at a God who’d forgotten today to punish New England for her “City pon the Hill” arrogance Godd the Little Pink Bear floats along the merry parade, neither vengeful nor forgetting, slightly drunk, singing “We are the Champeens” with the rest of the frosted tramps— yes, there it is, narrative, & on it could go—sugarhugging, lips damp & giggling— then wander from there, off the page, out of the notebook, to an else, configuration of cloud, dirge, & much-loved toy pup— No rules. No game. No fear. More & more, hurry without really ever having moved— “Hello—I love you— won’t you tell me your name Hello—I love you— let me jump in your game!” cries the jukebox later on at Luna T’s Cafe as the crowd rears ever higher— Suck the world, suck it hard, drink it in, scary, very fine, Knickerbocker interrupts me, & I agree—cue rant: “Drinketh thine world down! Fear, fantasy, fineness of distinction between the pilgrim & the sinner! Drinketh! as weary artisan his dwelling’s nocturnal rest! Drinketh! as the woman her baby’s suckling need! Drinketh! As woe, darkness, & devilry do their cornered human prey!” The Cenacle | 59 | October 2006
61 he nods at me & I continue: yes, suck the bastard down, the trees, the vigils, the dull eyes behind gun barrels, the scurrying creatures & departing wings—suck the hard delicious fucker down & grow with every lash of liberation, & preach deeper as humility & silence settle in— Back to Knickerbocker: “Bellow & howl thine praise however misbegotten or foolishly placed! Hands will ever hunger for a prayer to conjure, a cheek to stroke! Call it all wicked & laugh furiously or call it all holy & suffer relentlessly. Burn & disintegrate & refuse, finally to account to thine lord for aught a blemish or twig! Be what scriptures warn & wail about! Be unto the heights & depths of grandest majesty & when all trembles & doth indeed fall, remember! Fix up myths & texts of remembrance! Send a message of greatest hope even if it must be cloaked most hidden in words of despair & denial!” We clink glasses, bourbon to soda, & what drunkards remain yet roused about us raised a weak but sincere cheer— To go beyond charts & scriptures, beyond where they leave off—question & embrace language—doubt love & doubt doubt—trust, fall, continue—growl & explain— To know a face newly seen—suddenly connect starlight to fingers to a remembered cry to some dissipating wish— Carry one’s cup of thirst high—fingers trembling, fingers true— To remember everything—o yes remember it all—but what she sees—here, now— what she sees cannot be remembered, known, heard—what do you see, Rebecca, that I cannot ask, do not ask? I don’t remember what you see—nor do I know for what I’m asking—yet this missing thing cornered, even a moment, even to throw a thumb toward its absence, is some looking toward all— I want to remember what you see—to jimmy a crack in my rust—what scurries beneath, riddles beyond? I want to remember what you see now & snap time’s lingual grip— possible to remember in colors or rhythms unclad in words, in consciousness? Remember what you see now, what’s missing, or seems to be— beyond charts, beyond scriptures— The Cenacle | 59 | October 2006
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Struck me kinda funny seemed kind o
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Assistant Editor: Kassandra Soulard
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1 Revolution Evolution George Dorn
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3 Thus, for a revolution to be trul
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5 References Joyce, James. Ulysses.
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7 Raymond Soulard, Jr. New Songs (f
Page 19 and 20: 9 Wrack What fury tonight in old le
Page 21 and 22: 11 Absolution “Our only guide is
Page 23 and 24: 13 Compel What convincing to live i
Page 25 and 26: 15 Holy (i) Between two shadows, up
Page 27 and 28: 17 Zero It was crush sun by sun, fl
Page 29 and 30: 19 Power What cross between humble
Page 31 and 32: 21 Doctrine Romance the hard rhythm
Page 33 and 34: 23 Carson McCullers A Tree A Rock
Page 35 and 36: 25 “It was like this,” the man
Page 37 and 38: 27 “A woman,” the old man said.
Page 39 and 40: 29 Ric Amante Her Radiant Upward Va
Page 41 and 42: 31 Dream #9 I watched it fall from
Page 43 and 44: 33 Raymond Soulard, Jr. Notes from
Page 45 and 46: 35 I don’t advocate use of psyche
Page 47 and 48: 37 Judih Haggai First Then Last I s
Page 49 and 50: 39 Crystallized Crumbs When lost ch
Page 51 and 52: 41 bent like a reed wind swift to s
Page 53 and 54: 43 Inner Autumn The leaves hang hum
Page 55 and 56: 45 Raymond Soulard, Jr. Things Chan
Page 57 and 58: 47 Far more yes than no in recent y
Page 59 and 60: 49 “I’m OK, Reb” “Sure?”
Page 61 and 62: 51 “Yes. There’s no pressure. N
Page 63 and 64: 53 Grey sips & waits— Just to be
Page 65 and 66: 55 She looks at me all blue eyes so
Page 67 and 68: 57 “Hesitate little but hurryeth
Page 69: 59 “Thou canst prove there is wat
Page 73 and 74: 63 Knickerbocker stares bluntly at
Page 75 and 76: 65 She has disappeared within me as
Page 77 and 78: 67 “I’m scared. I’m on a bus
Page 79 and 80: 69 I haven’t found my home yet so
Page 81 and 82: 71 Gretta grins. “Yes! Oh! She ha
Page 83 and 84: 73 I think: can this story still ma
Page 85 and 86: 75 I know. Next year I’ll be with
Page 87 and 88: 77 dust accumulates— Dream of dan
Page 89 and 90: 79 Dr. Timothy Leary Using LSD to I
Page 91 and 92: 81 Emmanuelle Brochier The Cenacle
Page 93 and 94: 83 The key here is the guide’s ab
Page 95 and 96: 85 thread is used by the lamas to e
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Raymond Soulard, Jr. New Songs (for Kassandra) - The ...

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