Having my way with Ulysses

He lay back at full stretch over the sharp rocks

I stood by the unvintageable sea till the wet waves drenched face and hair with spray, The long red fires of the dying day burned in the west; the wind piped drearily; And to the land the clamorous gulls did flee: "Alas!" I cried, "my life is full of pain, And who can garner fruit or golden grain, from these waste fields which travail ceaselessly!" My nets gaped wide with many a break and flaw. Nathless I threw them as my final cast into the sea, and waited for the end. 11:50 am

Better get this job over quick.  Side by side with the serpent plants and milkoozing fruits.  Pain is far.  And no more turn aside and brood.  Brood on my boots.  His boots.  I am a Buck’s castoff.  Brother soul, Wilde’s love that dare not speak its name.  His arm, Cranley’s arm.  He will leave me.  אֶהְיֶה אֲשֶׁר אֶהְיֶה‎.  I will be what I will be.  All or not at all.  I shall wait.  No.  Chafing against the low rocks.  Swirling.  Passing.  Listen: vehement breath.  Wavespeech of waters.  Seesoo,  amid seasnakes.  Hrss rearing horses.  Rsseeiss rocks.  Ooos.  In cups of rocks it slops.  Flop slop slap.  Bounded in barrels.  Slopped and churned. The bungholes sprang open and a huge dull flood leaked out, flowing together, winding through mudflats all over the level land, a lazy pooling swirl bearing along wideleaved flowers of its froth.

Whispering weeds:  Shhh. Lift your skirts, we are flooded.  Let fall.  Ahhh we are weary.  Lift.  Shhh.  Flooded.  We await fullness.  Day by day and night by night.  Shhh.  Pray to St Ambrose for us.  He loves virgins.  Shhh.  He knows how to hide.  Lift.  Shhh.  Let fall.  He will hide us.  Shhh.  Gather up forthflowing.  We are flooded.  Shhh.  Wending back.  We are weary.  Help us St. Ambrose.  Shhh.  Help us.

 

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

  • Temporality
  • Mathematical Esoterica
  • Nothing
  • Holy Mother Public Relations Inc.
  • Quadrature of the Circle
  • Point
  • Mirror
  • Circle Center Circumference
  • Free Will
  • Retrospective Arrangement
  • 32 Feet Per Second Per Second
  • Alchemy