Having my way with Ulysses

If — a big if, however.

And suddenly he saw the red stone, shiny with the blood dripping off it, and the spinning arcs cut by the feet of the victim whom they pulled off to throw him rolling down the north steps. With a last hope he shut his lids tightly, moaning to wake up. For a second he thought he had gotten there, because once more he was immobile in the bed, except that his head was hanging down off it, swinging. 1:30 am

It’s 2012, alas we are done!
Though of linear time there is none.
The calendar’s round
Wheels turn, I have found:
All are washed in the blood of the sun.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.