Having my way with Ulysses

Sixtyseven is a bitch.

• Circe

MORERIS: The camels looked familiar? CIRCE: I will tell you. Of the men who lay hidden under her, purity means little. But it was all to their liking to appreciate the polluted. Let those who are wise remember the childlike, the kind nasty, infected, and dirty men prefer to receive, or to offer. And now they are preferring as a camel to go drink the whole at once, enjoying, excepting when the water is troubled by the trampling of their own feet. 11:38 pm

Oooh. Come here little fascinatrix. What? Don’t murmur, speak up. You’re quivering. Here, borrow my bat shawl. There now, what’s wrong? Did your mother take a strap to you at your bed post? Sweet little hussy like you, I’ll bet you loved her for doing that to you. Come in. Careful! Don’t trip now, it’s bad luck. Impolite too. There now, let’s see the secrets of your bottom drawers. Oh a little blood there.  I’ll bet you show that to all the men, show them all your worldly goods. There now wise child, I can sell you for a virgin, fresh thing like you. Never touched. I’ll start with $50; maybe $45. Oh honey, don’t be a stick in the mud. We’re all undervalued. Mustn’t have cold feet about that, no no, not the least little bit. We’ll go for quantity. Maidenhead for sale, enough for all takers. Remember be a child with them. Invite the next one who wants to slap your haunch to play a little leap frog. Here have a mango. There you go. That’s better. Let’s get some clothes on you. Turkish costume? Yes, you’ll look a dream. Your stomach looks different; I notice some change. Try not to show. Be for them a light rising and try to smell like something clean, makes more of a contrast for them, yeah? The dirty married men like that in a virgin.

Wander years of dreams return

• Nausicaa

Down through the generations men built the night. In the beginning it was blindness and sleep and thorns that tear the naked foot and fear of wolves. We shall never know who forged the word for the interval of shadow which divides the two twilights; we shall never know in what century it stood as a cipher for the space between the stars. Other men engendered the myth. They made it mother of the tranquil Fates who weave destiny, and sacrificed black sheep to it and the cock which presages its end. The Chaldeans gave it twelve houses; infinite worlds, the Gateway. Latin hexameters gave it form and the terror of Pascal. Luis de León saw it in the fatherland of his shuddering soul. Now we feel it to be inexhaustible like an ancient wine and no one can contemplate it without vertigo and time has charged it with eternity. And to think it would not exist but for those tenuous instruments, the eyes.8:59 pm

I am a dream and I am your dreamer and also, look close, I am a page torn from an old copybook you cannot read so leave it, leave me. Trust me I am a bread cast on the waters. What’s this in your hand? I am a stick see? Too dark. Throw me, goodbye dear, thanks. I’ll stick here. I am a stick with lines and scars and letters inked into my flesh.  Carved upon the winedark sea. Wait.  No.  That’s my kidney.  I am a kidney, burn me instead.  I am a holocaust provided by an angel in stead.  I am a recording angel.  Read me if you can see but only the bats can see in the dark. Sleep, but first bend to see my face there. I am a dark mirror breathe on me. I stir. I am a reflection, nothing grows on me. I am a reflection of you done half by design. We’ll never meet again, O sweety. I fly here. There. Here. No harm in me, I am a transparency, but you can’t see me now.  I am a dark mirror. Don’t look too close naughty Grace darling, lean back swoony lovey and sleep. That’s better. Shhh. There you go. Shhh. There you go. I am a sleep.

Could hear them all at it

• Nausicaa

Irise, Osirises! Be thy mouth given unto thee! For why do you lack a link of luck to poise a pont of perfect peace? On the vignetto is a ragingoos. The overseer of the house of the oversire of the seas, Nu-Men, triumphant, sayeth: Fly as the hawk, cry as the corncake, Ani Latch of the postern is thy name; shout! 8:56 pm

 

Wait, what?

 

Shush.  Hear that?  Oh sorry, did I startle you?  Didn’t mean to make you jump; you must be more frightened by noise than light.  Or is it you thought you were alone on this beach?  Oh my darling, no no.  I’m right here.  Here in the tree.  Haven’t you ever listened to a tree?  I’m waiting for them to turn me into a pillar so Isis can find me.  You know her?  She knows you.  We’ve been listening to you, haven’t you heard us?  Listen around you.  All the world is listening.  Shh.  Better sit still. Use your eyes if you must but it’s only getting darker so you might as well listen up.  There.  You hear me?  That’s my Ba flying about. Listen.

 

My Ba.  My face, my bat body.  Like a little man in a cloak I am with tiny hands.  Teeth instead of a beak.  Bells have scared my Ba out of me, well that and my death played a part.  Don’t look so startled, my Ba will come back once Isis tears me out of this tree.  I’ll live again, metempsychosis you understand, repetition.  You hear that repetition?  Patterns it is,  numbers too if you care to hear them.  Self similarity of sound, clustering like bats in a belfry.  You hear that?  Repetitions are forming relationships.  There.  Proportion.  Now we have something.  Consonance and dissonance and assonance and resonance.  All in fluxing proportions.  Bells, and Ba, and waves, and what is that?  Oh that’s you!  Breathing, yes I miss that already.  And that other sound?  What is that? Can’t hear with the waters of. The chittering waters of. Flittering bats, fieldmice bawk talk. Ho! Are you not gone a home? Can’t hear with bawk of bats.

Her sweet flowerlike face

• Nausicaa

In reality everything occurs in a (is) simultaneity: door, smile, and the rest of the elements that make up the pattern appear as facets of links, like a lightning bolt that transforms the glass outside of time. It is impossible to retain this vision, since we don't know how to dis-place ourselves. There remains only an anxiety, a trembling, a vague longing. Something was there, perhaps quite near. And now there is nothing but a rose inside a glass, on this side where a rose is a rose is a rose, and no more. 8:46 pm

I’ll say goodbye using the only language deemed acceptable by the conventions of Society with a big ess.  Here, my love, I send my message in the language of flow wafting softly through the evening and that little bat flying around to and fro just to show what a good bat she is had better not tell.  Little bats don’t tell.  Smell me! Smell me!  Wonder if he is too far to?  I’m no she-rose.  But he’ll forgive me that.  He’ll give me a sweet forgiving smile verging on tears.  There will be no goodbye.  We shall meet again.  Then, tomorrow, in good time or outside of time no matter, and we’ll dream together of yester eve.  Here, right here!  Please, don’t imagine what we will do then, I’m blushing like a girl!  Look at the color of me!

Love laughs at locksmiths.

• Nausicaa

The bat that flits at the close of eve has left the Brain that won't Believe.

8:42 pm

I have just this one flaw, and it was just an accident or I’d be perfect.  I’ll be perfect for him and I will do everything I can to make sure of that!  He’ll believe in me.  He is so ideal, is he real?  I want him to come here to me now in the twilight, I’ll hold the baby on my knee and we can pretend it is ours.  And we’ll be together and I’ll be free and he’ll be my all in all.  I believe if I believe as hard as I can then it will be because reality is what we believe it to be.  I wrote that down once and it is so totally true because it is what I believe.  I can be a poet, and I’ll give everything to him and we’ll be happy, even if he is already married or something because who cares, am I right?  Makes no difference.  We’ll get past any obstacle because we’ll be together and nothing else will matter.

Across the sands of all the world followed by the suns flaming sword.

• Proteus

To the west, trekking to evening lands. She trudges, schlepps, trains, drags, trascines her load. A tide westering, moondrawn in her wake. Tides, myriadislanded, within her, blood not mine, oinopa ponton, a winedark sea. Behold the handmaid of the moon. In sleep the wet sign calls her hour, bids her rise. Bridebed, childbed, bed of death, ghostcandled. Omnis caro ad te veniet. He comes, pale vampire, through storm his eyes, his bat sails bloodying the sea, mouth to her mouth's kiss. 11:43 am

That’s twice I forgot to take slips off the library counter.  Remember it now.  Try.  Comes and goes.  How did I start it?  The sounds.  Moomb woomb allwoombing toomb. Mouth to her kiss.  No, two mouths.  Glue them together.  Gluey.  Mouth to her mouth’s kiss. Wayawayawayawayaway.  Ooeeehah.  huh.  Where?  To evening lands.  Omnis caro ad te veniet.  His bat sails.  Her bat shawl.  On swift sail flaming.  From storm and south.  He comes, pale vampire.  Mouth to my mouth.  I am set naked on your kingdom.  Oh, thy kingdom come!  A winedark sea.  Behold the handmaid of the moon.  The moist star.  Unto thee all flesh shall come.  What is her burying grave, that is her womb?  Tomb.  Mouth to her womb.  allwombing tomb.  Oomb.  Thou’rt my Mother from the Womb, Wife, Sister, Daughter to the Tomb.  Trudges, schlepps, trains, drags, trascines.  Across the sands of all the world.  Is that what I wrote? Bridebed, childbed, bed of death, ghostcandled.  Tides myriadislanded, within her.  A tide westering, moondrawn.  In sleep the wet sign calls her hour, bids her rise.  Followed by the sun’s flaming sword.  to the west.  Trekking to evening lands.  Pale vampire, through storm his eyes.  Bloodying the sea.  The winedark sea.  O shit give it up.  Who ever anywhere will read these written words?