Who bleached the false-messenger?
--
Try it. You may mention my name.

When does the sun rise next week?

—Look here. Here they are. A friend of mine sent me.

Why am I so surreal just now?
—We woke this morning at seven o’clock.

What is the true meaning of resurrection?
--
He toured the wide world with Hengler’s Royal Circus.

What time is it?
—A beautiful language. I mean for singing purposes.


If the brown cow ate black grass what color would his dung be?
—Not as much as a farthing to purchase a night’s lodging.

To whom was the package sent?
—A few broken biscuits were all the result of his investigation.

What name would you never screw?
—The fill the ear of a cow elephant.
What the hell are you doing with your life?
—I seen him shoot two eggs off two bottles at fifty yards over his shoulder.

Who invests in vacation homes and makes lots of cash?
—Sounds are impostures, Stephen said after a pause of some little time, like names.

Why synthesize when you could analyze? 
—My little woman’s down there. She’s waiting for me, I know. For England, home and beauty.


What kind of cake would you die for?
--I seen a crocodile bite a fluke of an anchor same as I chew that quid.




Note: The second line of each couplet is taken from Ulysses ("Eumaeus" section).

Click here to read more writings by the Next Objectivists that were inspired by Ulysses.
 
 
 
 
Ay, ay or no.  To
think of him, became in due
course.  And so on the
prowl evidently under
the mangle devouring
a mess of eggshells
and charred fish heads and bones on
a par with the mind.

Texts: James Joyce, Eumaeus




A great deal of change out of

the missive which made him
nourish some
suspicions of
our skipper's
bricks disguised.  To
think of him and his gestures
being also clumsy as
it so happened, he had not
but the cream
of the pair of greenish
goggles which he beat a
retreat to
his main view.  To
seek misfortune, weather.

Texts: James Joyce, Eumaeus



But as I chew that quid.  You know I would

to a step in the
passage and we are held up to tally
with the show girl, as he was and
a large crowd had assembled to see the
greatest danger of
the lip: what's bred in the sweeper car or
you might just as well as a born
raconteur if ever there was a bit
like that from the house
will be in on it.  She put the first of
every chorus fluff that off.

Texts:  James Joyce, Eumaeus; Kenneth McGaffey, The Sorrows of a Show Girl



That was
the
first to
rise from
his hat
at the, for
the young man
he was
just
then, he had
heard not
so long as
I
chew that
effect.

Texts:  James Joyce, Eumaeus



Still no matter what
you say.  To
which sounded rather
a far cry.
I shouldn't think that
is, and then,
when the husband was
a fact the
weeklies, addicted
to stephen.

Texts: James Joyce, Eumaeus



The husband was a ship.  The sailor said,

in fact.  The sailor.  Seeing that the man
in his affections.  By the name, the name,
the name, the sailor said, in fact.  Across
the world, the sailor.  That's a matter of
a choice concoction labelled coffee on
the matter of a literary cove
in his affections.  So, in it.  Tattoo,
the sacred music of the thing.  Tattoo,
the keeper said, europa point, the end.
A figure of the.  At the lowest, near
the end.  The husband was a jew.  The mind.

Texts: James Joyce, Eumaeus



This Eumaeus Gnoetry was written during the Next Objectivists' "Ulysses" workshop. Click here to find out more about that workshop, and to read more writings created during the workshop. Click here to read more Eumaeus Gnoetry.
 
 
brushed up orthodox beverage pump
off the reel hardly a stone
ways and means in the shape
after some soap-sudsy hands
livery stables round the corner
by some fellows a kind of whistle
nothing for it but to foot it by circumstance
as the temperature happened
as the tramway apropos the main entrance 
of the morgue in due course
acting as the vidius palpable and indispensible
sober companion of the ill-famed death-trap
for every contingency the need for an accident-solicitor
cordially disliked to swear upon a hat
and to the health of fast women drunk with
season to us both
led to trouble grating the staff of life
awaiting news from abroad
wholesale waters duly arrived with an axe
surplus steam and good Irish bacon with little account of crime
a bit peeved but never the less an admiral
the coal scene the confidence trick
on the scaffold high snapping at the bone





Note: Gene Tanta wrote this poem during a "Ulysses" edition of a Next Objectivists workshop

 
 
The Next Objectivists is a collective of writers that holds workshops at Mess Hall, a venue in Chicago's Rogers Park neighborhood -- to "chart a poetics of the outsidereal by reading, writing, discussing & eating & drinking our way through a variety of texts." On June 14th The Next Objectivists collaborated with the Borderbend Arts Collective to present a workshop about Ulysses, with a focus on the "Eumaeus" episode

During this Next Objectivists workshop, participants read and wrote through passages of "Eumaeus." Dan Godston facilitated a writing activity during which people used approaches and strategies developed by Gertrude Stein, the Surrealists, Oulipo and Gnoetry to "write through" the "Eumaeus" of Ulysses.

Thanks to the Next Objectivists for being part of "Bloomsday 2012 & Ulysses' 90th"!


Eumaeus Exquisite Corpse                 by the Next Objectivists

Who bleached the false-messenger?
--
Try it. You may mention my name.

What kind of cake would you die for?
--
I seen a crocodile bite a fluke of an anchor same as I chew that quid.

When does the sun rise next week?
--
Look here. Here they are. A friend of mine sent me.

Why synthesize when you could analyze? 
--
My little woman’s down there. She’s waiting for me, I know. For England, home and beauty.

Why am I so surreal just now?
--
We woke this morning at seven o’clock.

What is the true meaning of resurrection?
--
He toured the wide world with Hengler’s Royal Circus.

What the hell are you doing with your life?
--
I seen him shoot two eggs off two bottles at fifty yards over his shoulder.

If the brown cow ate black grass what color would his dung be?
--
Not as much as a farthing to purchase a night’s lodging.

Who invests in vacation homes and makes lots of cash?
--
Sounds are impostures, Stephen said after a pause of some little time, like names.

What time is it?
--
A beautiful language. I mean for singing purposes.

To whom was the package sent?
--
A few broken biscuits were all the result of his investigation.

What name would you never screw?
--
The fill the ear of a cow elephant. 



Note: The second line of each couplet is taken from the "Eumaeus" section of Ulysses.



"N + 7" by Rey Esco, Adrianne Dodt and Toby Altman

A gifted manila mr bloom said of mr. daedalus senior in more respects than one in the born racket if there ever was one he takes great pricker quite legitimately out of you you could go back perhaps he hazzarded still thinking of the very unpleasant scaup at West Glamorgan rove terminal when it was perfectly evident that the other twit mull that is and that English toupe Friday of his who eventually euchred their third commuter, were patently trying as if the whole bally state socialism belonged to them to give Steven the slime mold in the confrere



"Joyce’s Ulysses, a gurgling noise" by Gene Tanta

brushed up orthodox beverage pump
off the reel hardly a stone 
ways and means in the shape
after some soap-sudsy hands
livery stables round the corner
by some fellows a kind of whistle
nothing for it but to foot it by circumstance
as the temperature happened 
as the tramway apropos the main entrance  
of the morgue in due course 
acting as the vidius palpable and indispensible 
sober companion of the ill-famed death-trap 
for every contingency the need for an accident-solicitor
cordially disliked to swear upon a hat
and to the health of fast women drunk with
season to us both
led to trouble grating the staff of life
awaiting news from abroad
wholesale waters duly arrived with an axe
surplus steam and good Irish bacon with little account of crime
a bit peeved but never the less an admiral 
the coal scene the confidence trick
on the scaffold high snapping at the bone




Eumaeus Gnoetry

Ay, ay or no.  To
think of him, became in due
course.  And so on the
prowl evidently under
the mangle devouring
a mess of eggshells
and charred fish heads and bones on
a par with the mind.

Texts: James Joyce, Eumaeus



A great deal of change out of
the missive which made him
nourish some
suspicions of
our skipper's
bricks disguised.  To
think of him and his gestures
being also clumsy as
it so happened, he had not
but the cream
of the pair of greenish
goggles which he beat a
retreat to
his main view.  To
seek misfortune, weather.

Texts: James Joyce, Eumaeus



But as I chew that quid.  You know I would
to a step in the
passage and we are held up to tally
with the show girl, as he was and
a large crowd had assembled to see the
greatest danger of
the lip: what's bred in the sweeper car or
you might just as well as a born
raconteur if ever there was a bit
like that from the house
will be in on it.  She put the first of
every chorus fluff that off.

Texts:  James Joyce, Eumaeus; Kenneth McGaffey, The Sorrows of a Show Girl



That was
the
first to
rise from
his hat
at the, for
the young man
he was
just
then, he had
heard not
so long as
I
chew that
effect.

Texts:  James Joyce, Eumaeus



Still no matter what
you say.  To
which sounded rather
a far cry.
I shouldn't think that
is, and then,
when the husband was
a fact the
weeklies, addicted
to stephen.

Texts: James Joyce, Eumaeus



The husband was a ship.  The sailor said,
in fact.  The sailor.  Seeing that the man
in his affections.  By the name, the name,
the name, the sailor said, in fact.  Across
the world, the sailor.  That's a matter of
a choice concoction labelled coffee on
the matter of a literary cove
in his affections.  So, in it.  Tattoo,
the sacred music of the thing.  Tattoo,
the keeper said, europa point, the end.
A figure of the.  At the lowest, near
the end.  The husband was a jew.  The mind.

Texts: James Joyce, Eumaeus

To read more Eumaeus Gnoetry, click on the "Eumaeus Gnoetry" tag on the right of this page.



 
 
 
 
 
 
U

for JJ on bloomsday 2012


SEVEN LAST WORDS

Forgive me, your honor, but anyone who has ever been lovesick and that means anyone who has ever
been sick of love and that means anyone who has ever been in love and that means anyone who has ever
been knows emesis is no nemesis of things aphrodisiac or vice versa and that might mean anything and
some things among anything that could be are bound to be emetic for some people some times though
that has nothing on the face of it to do with obscenity which is neither here nor there now. (And, as far
as Aphrodite is concerned, if not now, when?) On the other hand, imagine if you will some unscrupulous
person making profit for himself alone out of the work of another which does, though it is hard to imagine
a court saying so in the belly of a beast a beast itself both so in love with doing so. In this day and age,
absurd is everybody’s middle name, go go go or no the grey sweet mother of all sunshine merrying over
the sea the great sweet mother of all.

What city sent what city scent? Is there any other city any other for him to be other for this day? Now,
do you understand? Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more thought through my eyes
which if you should say so yourself strictly speaking you should say are yours meaning I am otherwise to
your I your eye, open and shut. Listen and see what you see what you see with the ineluctable modality of
the aural. See if you smell a rat or some other rotten in Denmark thing with some ineluctable modality or
other. Mark what I say if you see what I’m saying. Do you now know what I mean?

About her windraw face her hair trailed wind raw win draw win. The crooked skirt swinging whack by
whack by whack. Her full hips. Her full lips, drinking, smiled and smiled again: the overtone following
through the air, third. Curious, longing, curious longing, I. Water to water dust to dust ashes to ashes
inked characters fast fading forsaken on frayed paper drowning in grief drowning their grief. I thirst.

That’s the first sign.

When the hairs come out grey temper getting cross. Silver threads among the grey. Fancy being his wife
gone now. Strange, he never saw his real country. Strange he never saw. Getououthat, you bloody old
pedagogue! We were always loyal to lost causes, the professor, that stony effigy in frozen music, horned
and terrible, of the human form divine, said. He ceased and looked at them, enjoying silence. Finished.
That is how poets write right rite. Similar sounds. Meaning be damned. Until you are over your head in
it where there was a canyon cut in rock by water flowing like words like thought, a lake, still, the city
submerged. La causa è santa! Pint of stout. Each dish harmless might mix inside. Say something. Better
not do the heart softly quopping condescending. Necessity it goes without saying is that in virtue of which
it is impossible that one can be otherwise. Certainly, certainly, certainly. (Piano, diminuendo.) That lies in
space which I in time must come to, ineluctably. Invece, lei si sacrifica. Into the hand of some god.



UNTO US A CHILD

Child born every minute somewhere. Agenbite of inwit. Agen bitte in wit. Inwit’s agenbite. In white
please recite. And the salute of Almidano Artifono’s sturdy trousers swallowed by a closing door. Smack.
Smack. She let free sudden in rebound her nipped elastic garter smackwarm against her smackable
woman’s warmhosed thigh. Words? Music? No. No: it’s what’s behind. Yes, yes, will tell you. Want to.
To keep it up. With a cock with a carra. Circumcised! says Joe. Something dawns on him, and he can’t
stop crowing.



OTHERWISE

The nec and non plus ultra of emotion were reached when the blushing bride elect burst her way through
the serried ranks of the bystanders and flung herself upon the muscular bosom of him who was about to
be launched into eternity for her sake slowly and indistinctly in a tone suggestive of suppressed rancor.
Those are nice things, says the citizen, coming over here to Ireland filling the country with bugs. The
French! says the citizen. Set of dancing masters! I, says Joe. I’m the alligator. Mendelssohn was a jew
and Karl Marx and Mercandante and Spinoza. and the saviour was a jew and his father was a jew. Your
god, by god. For such a one she yearns this balmy summer eve, and he had eyes in his head to see the
difference for himself.

The fabric that caresses the skin, better than those other pettiwidth, the green, four and eleven, on account
of being white and o by the by that lotion. And whiles they spake the door of the castle was opened and
there nighed them a mickle noise as of many that sat there at meat as it is meet and right to do so to do
with what is meted out to you. Many a mickle meted, they say, going the other way, maks a muckle.
Sitting snug with a covey of wags, like brangling fellows I could produce a muckle cloud of witnesses
to the excellence of her noble exercitations -- a mickle if you will, the sanitary conditions in which our
greylunged citizens contract adenoids, pulmonary complaints etc. by inhaling the bacteria which lurk in
dust, to say nothing of this virus we swim in, language.

Wait, my love, and I’ll be with you. Salvi facti i sunt. I was just going back for that lotion whitewax,
orangeflower water, a penny in the pound. O cold! O shivery! It was your ambrosial beauty. forget
forgive kismet. Let me off get me off this once. A man’s touch. Sad music. Church music. Perhaps here.

(A sunburst appears in the northwest.)

Stage Irishman! Pflaap! No yapping, if you please. Wheatenmeal with lycopodium and syllabax.
Locomotor ataxy. Disorder. Moving. Weigh the way you cannot say. Details details. Move. The devil is
in that door. Let me on him now. You had enough. I asked before you.


As a paying guest or a kept man?

I was precocious. Sacrilege! To attempt my virtue! Ah, ma, you’re dragging me along! A Ma dance the
mirror sea, see the mirror dance. Dance! Dance!


(He is pelted with gravel, cabbagestumps, biscuitboxes, eggs, potatoes, dead codfish, woman’s slipperslappers.)

The red’s as good as the green, and better. I suppose so. Poetry, well educated. Pity. Well educated pity.
Pathemata mathemata. Pity poetry. Although unusual in the Dublin area, he knew that it was not by any
means unknown for desperadoes who had next to nothing to live on to be about waylaying and generally
terrorising peaceable pedestrians by placing a pistol at their head in some secluded spot outside the city
proper. But never a poem to the head. Out of the head, perhaps, a poem by any means. And what might
your name be?

On this knotty point the views of the pair, poles apart as they were, both in schooling and everything else,
with the marked difference in their respective ages, clashed. He turned a long you are wrong gaze on
Stephen of timorous dark pride at the soft impeachment, with a glance also of entreaty for he seemed to
glean in a kind of way that it wasn’t all exactly... Though palpably a radically altered man, he was still a
commanding figure, though carelessly garbed as usual.

Our lives are in peril tonight. beware of the steamroller, the incompatibility of aquacity with the erratic
originality of genius.


A SMALL CATECHISM

Had Bloom and Stephen been baptised, and where and by whom, cleric or layman?

Did the elevated host encourage his guest to chant in a modulated voice a strange legend on an alien
theme?

Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus Dominus Deus Sabaoth. Kadosh Kadosh Kadosh Adonai Tz'vaot Melo Kol Haaretz Kevodo.

Why did he not elaborate these calculations to a more precise result?

What homothetic objects, other than the candlestick, stood on the mantelpiece?

What affine spaces centered there to be transformed?

In what ultimate ambition had all concurrent and consecutive ambitions now coalesced? What were habitually his final meditations?

Will he come again?

What would render such return irrational?

What impersonal objects were perceived?

The visible signs of postsatisfaction?


YES

He was shaking like a jelly all over they want to do everything too quick take all the pleasure out of it as
if any fool wouldn’t know what that meant it never entered my head what kissing meant till he put his
tongue in my mouth as if any fool wouldn’t know what that meant I dont want to ruin the clean sheets
the clean linen I wore brought it on too damn it damn it and they always want to see a stain on the bed
to know your a virgin for them all thats troubling them theyre such fools I suppose hes a man now by
this time he was an innocent boy then Id love to have the whole place swimming in roses God of heaven
theres nothing like nature. yes, nothing like
yes.
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