Having my way with Ulysses


In that unbounded moment, I saw millions of delightful and horrible acts; none amazed me so much as the fact that all occupied the same point, without superposition and without transparency. What my eyes saw was simultaneous; what I shall write is successive, because language is successive. Something of it, though, I will capture.
3:33 am

Curl in bed; it’s quite easily done.
Darling it’s late and nothing you have won.
You see? The point is vanishing,
When: which was what was wanting,
The point: there is everything in the none.

Bellchime and handtouch and footstep and lonechill.

For abundance, even of things that are good, makes people esteem them less, and scarcity, even of bad things, lends a certain value.

2:33 am

Feel the reverb in your body
Where the sound of the bell just was:
Time dying, and
An infinitesimal but sensible fraction of a second later,
Time newborn.
Time dying, time birthing.
Simultaneous double vibrations and double reverberations
Bell, body, dead, newborn,
Patterning everything and nothing.

Feel the reverb on my lip
Where the touch of your thumb just was:
Love dying, and
An infinitesimal but sensible fraction of a second later,
Love newborn.
Love dying, love birthing.
Simultaneous double vibrations and double reverberations
Thumb, lip, dead, newborn,
Patterning everything and nothing.

Feel the reverb in the earth
Where the step of my foot just was:
Fear dying, and
An infinitesimal but sensible fraction of a second later,
Fear newborn.
Fear dying, fear birthing.
Simultaneous double vibrations and double reverberations;
Foot, fear, dead, newborn,
Patterning everything and nothing.

Feel the reverb in the air,
Where the chill of your breath just was:
Will dying, and
An infinitesimal but sensible fraction of a second later,
Will newborn.
Will dying, will birthing.
Simultaneous double vibrations and double reverberations;
Breath, will, dead, newborn,
Patterning everything and nothing.

Moneypenny Buttons

The besieged bedreamt him stil and solely of those lililiths undeveiled which had undone him. 2:22 am

Padney Socks she shook with shocks her money box,
And counted out buttons three.
Thwee buttons! worried she, oh no this cannot be,
And her neckarching cat did agree.

Padney Socks she cries and rocks, the cupboard unlocks,
And there just peas numbered three.
Just thwee peas! muttered she, but I’m getting hungwee,
And my mousewatching cat eats doubwee!

Padney Socks she frets and walks, to herself she talks,
My cat seems often bitchy.
One mean cat! plotted she, devising strategy,
My, that earwashing cat looks portly.

Padney Socks she sneaks and stalks, her cat in a box,
Then drinks a swig of brandy.
One fat cat! rejoiced she, skipping out for parsley,
For her hearthdreaming cat recipe.

He wished that a tale of a deed should be told of a deed not by him should by him not be told.

The night was dark, no father was there; The child was wet with dew; The mire was deep, & the child did weep, And away the vapour flew.2:20 am

Little Hugh of Lincoln, what were his people thinkin’?
He’s a nine year old playing with a ball.
But the very first bill that his folks couldn’t pay,
Well that boy, do we need him at all?
And the very second bill that his folks couldn’t pay,
Oh that boy, we won’t miss him at all.

Hey, thought some in Lincoln, we follow what you’re thinkin’,
Played just right, this could help one and all.
For our pockets are all empty, and we haven’t got a penny,
Look, our bills also grow mighty tall.

So with sweet little Hugh, here’s what we will do,
We’ll toss him down the well one and all.
Whoever shall we frame? Why the Jews are to blame!
And I hear they possess quite a haul.

As for Hugh never worry, he’ll make Saint in a hurry!
And rich pilgrims will flock for a cure-all.
As for our dear town of Lincoln, (look at us, now we’re thinkin’!)
We’ll trade one sweet boy for a massive windfall!

The exploits of King Willow

Your temple is reared on the sands, and the first tempest will wash away its foundation.1:52 am

Auspicious King Willow would cry in his pillow
And cry in his pillow would he
He called for his love, and he called for his soul
And he called for the sands in the sea.

Oh good King Willow, don’t cry to your pillow,
Why not dream your blue dreams with me?
I’ll show you a heart, and I’ll steal you a soul,
And I’ll shape all the sand into she.

But look close King Willow, you’ve made a mess of that pillow,
And your tender Achilles is she.
Get up, grow a pair, search your soul, don’t you care?
There’s more lovers than sands in the sea.

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.

My methods are new and are causing surprise; to make the blind see I throw dust in their eyes.

What is Above is Within, for every-thing in Eternity is translucent: The Circumference is Within: Without, is formed the Selfish Center And the Circumference still expands going forward to Eternity. And the center has Eternal States! these States we now explore.12:57 am

Creation from nothing and then arbitrate?
If that’s what this is, to the party I’m late.
But nothing’s not nothing, of this I well ken
It’s in here I must kill the now and the then.

All, not at all, or the Vala between?
Damn death, Luvah life! (Or you’d think me obscene.)
Before gravity’s center gets all displaced,
Let’s kiss and atone and then pardon disgrace.

For truely and bluely and justly and such,
I’ll speak to your eyes, though I do talk too much!
Kiss Biddy the Clap, and tell sweet Cunty Kate,
To tell what’s true plainly I must obfuscate.

To have or not to have that is the question.

To be born again . . . first you have to die. Ho ji! Ho ji! To land upon the bosomy earth, first one needs to fly. Tat-taa! Takathun! How ever to smile again, if first you won't cry? How to wind the darling's love, mister, without a sigh? Baba, if you want to get born again . . . 12:45 am

Her cunt crew, the fox flew
The bells are striking thirty-two.
Every moment since eleven
Shall be the next to fall from heaven.

Reduplication of personality.

THE DEVIL: ... You remember how he sang? [He begins to sing in a nasal operatic baritone, tremulous from an eternity of misuse in the French manner] Vivan le femmine! Viva il buon vino! THE STATUE: [taking up the tune an octave higher in his counter tenor] Sostegno e gloria D'umanita. THE DEVIL: Precisely. Well, he never sings for us now. DON JUAN: Do you complain of that? Hell is full of musical amateurs: music is the brandy of the damned. May not one lost soul be permitted to abstain?12:29 am

There is a flower that bloometh
I’ll arise and go to my roometh?
Each moment I expect
to be but the next
Oh fuck

There is a flower that bloometh
As the gulls soar and zoometh
loves old song is sweet
he has sparrows for feet?
Christ this needs some perfumeth

Dear Mr. Deasy.
Hey Mr. Deasy,

I just wanted to tell you that
Following up on
I feel close to you, as a friend, as a
Reflecting on our conversation discussion chat it, if feel I might ruin every
Great catching up with you, you gave me much to reflect aaaaaaaaaaanh.

Oh Jesus H God
9th rate coward

I’m a little drunk still maybe. Right. Spent what. Where’ve I been? I paid my way. Pay pay paid. Each octave is twice or half the pitch of the next. I am myself and I am not myself. Life I love you, go to hell.

A monstrous fine bit of cowflesh!

By their fondness of sights, one would be apt to imagine, that instead of desiring to see things as they should be, they are rather solicitous of seeing them as they ought not to be.10:30 pm

Brang, the bell stopped the talking,
In Nurse Callan comes walking.
Her belly looks swelled
Shut your mouth sir! they yelled.
This woman you should not be mocking.
But I mock from familial duty,
Besides, just look at her booty!
Most nurses are whores
Like Kitty, Lynch adores.
So relax, boys, the point now is mooty.