Raymond Soulard, Jr. New Songs (for Kassandra) - The ...
Raymond Soulard, Jr. New Songs (for Kassandra) - The ...
Raymond Soulard, Jr. New Songs (for Kassandra) - The ...
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86<br />
Notes on Contributors<br />
Ric Amante lives in Melrose, Massachusetts. His poetry last appeared <strong>The</strong> Cenacle | 58 | June 2006. Few<br />
words describe the pleasure in featuring his poems again in recent issues. What Ric brings to these<br />
pages is the art & life of one who has named his demons, learned to live with them or overcome<br />
them, and through it all kept singing true like the birds he so loves & admires.<br />
Nemo Boko lives in Eugene, Oregon. He grew up in Miami, Florida, and studied politics, religion and East Asian<br />
studies in college. A visionary experience had while living in Boulder, Colorado, set him on the path of art<br />
where he began to reintegrate his political aim of diplomacy with his aesthetic love of tribal and magickal<br />
images. His aesthetic vision can be found online at http://www.nemo.org.<br />
Emmanuelle Brochier lives in Eugene, Oregon. An abstract expressionist artist, originally from Lens,<br />
France, she met Nemo Boko and eventually wed him and moved to the United States. Kassi and I<br />
were lucky enough to travel to Eugene one recent weekend and visit with her and Nemo. <strong>The</strong>ir house<br />
is full of their art, full of their ferment, full of her smart, dandy laugh.<br />
George Dorn lives under cover in Seattle, Washington. He has tasted the edges of some greater Weirdness,<br />
and finds himself to be simultaneously thrilled and confused by life. He can be found haunting the<br />
cafes of Seattle, or appearing out of nowhere with his video camera and a crazed look in his eye.<br />
Fnord.<br />
Judih Haggai lives at Kibbutz Nir Oz in Israel. Her poetry last appeared <strong>The</strong> Cenacle | 58 | June 2006.<br />
<strong>The</strong>re was a night recently when I came home from the world’s withering troubles so gone of hope,<br />
run in with fear, wishing something fucking good would happen <strong>for</strong> everyone, everywhere. My yawp<br />
that night went to Jude, who has <strong>for</strong> years now listened to me, and pined <strong>for</strong> the same thing.<br />
Dr. Timothy Leary was born in Springfield, Massachusetts in 1920. Dr. Leary was a controversial figure<br />
throughout his life, advocating the use of LSD and other psychedelic sacraments, and tirelessly<br />
working <strong>for</strong> a worldwide expansion and elevation of consciousness, one the world still awaits. Dr.<br />
Leary died in Los Angeles, Cali<strong>for</strong>nia, in 1996. His words were last featured in these pages in <strong>The</strong><br />
Cenacle | 54 | April 2005.<br />
Carson McCullers was born Lula Carson Smith in Columbus, Georgia in 1917. She published weird and<br />
wonderful novels and short stories until her death in <strong>New</strong> York in 1967. Scriptor Press originally<br />
reprinted this issue’s story as Burning Man Books | 48 | 2006. She once told a critic: “Writing, <strong>for</strong><br />
me, is a search <strong>for</strong> God.”<br />
<strong>Kassandra</strong> <strong>Soulard</strong> lives in Seattle, Washington where she attends college and tries to live like the world is<br />
better than it sometimes appears to be. One night we were walking in the city, crossing a heavilytrafficked<br />
street corner, and a blindly speeding, cellphone-distracted driver almost hit her. This issue<br />
be<strong>for</strong>e you would not exist if my grabbing hand and the Universe had not intervened. Thank you,<br />
Universe . . .<br />
<strong>Raymond</strong> <strong>Soulard</strong>, <strong>Jr</strong>. lives in Seattle, Washington, a city at the edge of the Empire, but it may be that very<br />
soon there will be no more Empire, just a nation-state, like many others, looking again to occupy a<br />
sane place at the world’s table of nation-states, and maybe one day there will be no more nationstates<br />
and one hand reaching toward you in kindness will be as much kin as any other . . .<br />
<strong>The</strong> Cenacle | 58 | June 2006