What past consecutive causes, before rising preapprehended, of accumulated fatigue did Bloom, before rising, silently recapitulate?





sea, unseen, now, not there, though I go, “Thalatta!”, now nowhere, “The snotgreen sea”, seems to grow from my feet, unaware, still of the wake, on the verge, “The scrotumtightening sea”, my tongue, though terror, “Thalatta!”, grows fierce, ever mourning, ever somber, no want in tow, of the moor, the verge again, all I saw, mire, all over now, a raise of his razorblade, still, the sea, apart from what is seen, arise, “Kinch ahoy”, a rise in the tide, “knifeblade”, “Thalatta!”, what will be, what has been, what forever shall be, his reason being, none, “Thalatta!”, parting the scene, tightening, painting the scenery, “Ceasing”, into, and out of, “Introibo ad altare Dei”, instress, “Usurper”





a pier, a bridge to nowhere, “a disappointed bridge”, “no one here to hear”, a bride hears a point, in the distance, a bridge, now where? no, where are we now? one sees or hears a heart, in the distance, someone is dancing, here, do you hear? or see? a bride swings from a bridge, a bear, singing, in the distance, a bare bridge, heart, on a string, swung, “Pyrrhus, a pier”, the dancing airs, peers, stars from a badge, have you heard? in the distance, pairs of ears, dancing there, “a bridge is” a cross, a river, “across a river”, was there ever? a curse for your rearview mirror, disaster sings from a pier, “sir?”, are we here, or, in the distance, adhere, “sir?”, singing near a river, in which  bridges, early altered, appear to sing, isn’t over





we came hither, to thirst, cough, of turquoise, one leg, back, to the sea, at a gallop, sunrise, “seawrack”, her coy laugh, cliff, shells of the afterlife, “Diaphane, adiaphane”, one finger penetrable, ineffable, another a hearth, fraternity, of father and son, arise, trope of seacrest, each crash, iambic, penultimate Argonaut, now early, now transparent, fashioned of the now prostrate, “Diaphane, adiaphane”, form the warp, woof, one letter, strata, at a time, indulgent, one finger nearer, “deline the mare”, sea, horse, transubstantiate, wharf, of what day to come, “Diaphane, adiaphane”, too comely, Protagoras admits to colophon, “darkness I was too, made not begotten”, “gallop”, cliffthither, we made west





oil, voyage, "Voglio e non vorrei", sausage, boiled, "sunburst on the title page", one liver one kidney, one lover's awl, glowered over,  soulsevered, "watching it flow sideways", versed in wurst, vexed, reincarnation of rest, never cursed, eggs, aglio e oglio, all honoring, succumbing,  "Voglio e non vorrei", one leg of limb's wool, "dogsbody", gall of gravy's womb, down the hallway, lamb of God, adieu, a Dio con Dio, atomized incisors, scissors misspelled, inside our, out, cut one bladder of wombat, chew fissure, tissue, one ringworm lightly fried, light gravy, tongue to taste, Anglo-Saxon, waste not laxative, fixative, "Voglio e non vorrei", festive endeavors, exaltations, the bowels, transmigration fouled





The preparation of breakfast (burnt offering):
intestinal congestion and

alas, mosquito, hearsay glutton, “drooping nags of the hazard”, a mosque is built of the contrabass, verily “He’s dead”, alas, what his heathen sheep, with charity wrought, at long last, asleep in the slough, he is up there, to greet the dead, bah! ‘tis a neigh, neighborly sighs in the choir, “This is my body”, the blessing, unrehearsed, “Heresiarch”, he has searched for the letter, postmarked, reposed “massboy”, and researched in the sacrament, body missing from the text, two sluts, a dying horse, alas,  host of the apocalypse, host of all hosts, "This is my body", and blood, to brood over, take this, the sea’s private epicycles,  take this, all of you, your sanctity, apothecary, all of you, with missive clarity, of you, and eat it 

 



Note: "Sedici, Ulysses" by Christophe Casamassima appears in several installments. Click here to read the rest of the poem. 
 
 
premeditative defecation (holy of holies):
the bath (rite of John): the funeral

inchoate, splayed tannins, yield of Achilles heel, Barabas damned, calves, astray, Dedalus nodding, Ithaca, “His fidus Achates”, hailed, rainslit white forms, “red face: grey now”, “an empty hearse”, flotsam gravy, his last florin halved, for having saved, her eyes, ending, horizon, now theirs, ours, the hours, passing, “in paradisum”, how dying restrained the dead, how one rains, deciding, coughing nails, unarmed, carrying on, with fingers grieving inquiry, throng, ad hominem, “On Dignam now”, resting voices, houses, amplified in their names, raining, rising solos, each rendered meter, sustaining each one grave, each sorrow, resisting all matters lost and fettered, bygones, by now, gone, displayed in the bones, Gorgons    






(rite of Samuel): the advertisement of Alexander Keyes (Urim and

Adonai”, he pressed on, “Ohio!”, and so, it was over, “white bowknots”, I don’t know, he presented another, “It is meet to be here”, he paused, his mare bulging, a grass purge, “He wants you for the pressgang”, aloha, Gutenberg, “Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu”, plausible thoughts, “Long, short, and long”,  he plodded, “A perfect cretic!”, he spoke, “spells finis for a man”, he raised one finger, arranged images and made this suggestion, “Your hat is a little crushed”, but was inconsequential, his armature vanished, “The telephone whirred”, where by God is this telegram?, “The divine afflatus”, “Hop and carry one”, he divined, hopelessness, he broke into riddling, “Ohio!”, “As he mostly sees double





Thummim): the unsubstantial lunch (rite
of Melchizedek): the visit to
bread, amended, beef, sides of, demanding an all living death, draught, perfect gravity, good head by God, devourer of breath and life, by width of fire, framed, “Dollard”, the barfly’s wife, my pen, “Blood of the Lamb”, ales, askew, arms, my penumbra, “No-one is anything”, so he asked, “How much is that?”, who measures such sentences?, alas, with all this spun, yet another plumb, “Must be in a certain mood”, ponders the brood of a heap, waferheft, aliases, to be engaged with, gasbills, and glossolalia, “That is how poets write, the similar sounds”, heiferwaft, or centuries of smell, sexless with rescue, “Esthetes they are”, all he thought, he thought, sat, teeth?, not said so easily though, how, how thought, now, who





museum and national library (holy place):
the bookhunt along Bedford row,

absence of timbre, “Gulfer of souls, engulfer”, procedure of limbs, repeated, footnotes in the snow, “Minette? Tu veux?”, six companions, repented, Jesus wept, but what else?, their compendium of limbs, cylindrical, si piove tanta e bastanza, “ave rabbi”, corpus delictus et al, innocuous, “Dumas fils”, “ave rabbi”, mirror of thought, light be there let, “Stuck on the pane two flies buzzed, stuck”, paraskenia and acoustics, “Hesios Kristos”, Aeschylus, how snow falls upon the idea of a house, Plato’s apotheosis, “Horseness is the whatness of allhorse”, hence pathos, he, who too is I, horsesense, a blind eye, “ave rabbi”, anxious of sacrament, six characters, repented, unctuous, si piove molto ma non si piove sempre, ascolta





Merchants' Arch, Wellington Quay (Simchath Torah):
the music in the

pius, “Nisi Prius”, absimilis absilimus, “allow the ambulance”, qua sedici, neigh, chance and rechance, nonchalance, a viaggio, due a mano, adieu, the same road traveled twice, sempre da solo, what follows isn’t, extempore, “hasn’t an earthly”, Hammersmith is too south, double neigh, haha, “Dignam came out of Mangan’s”, haha he who is is, who laughed “von Sacher Masoch”, Leopold, is, declension, exsequens, cornered for Christ’s sake, qua qua ex qua, “Sulphur dung of lions”, deux mains, Padua in Dublin?, Tripoli?, “sure that’s only what you might call a pinprick”, quay nunc, nessuno qui ma noi, qua ciao, “behind him a blind stripling tapped”, queen to king’s archbishop, circa nulla, we, unalike, abscond, “Perche la sua voce...





Note: "Sedici, Ulysses" by Christophe Casamassima is appearing in installments. Click here to read more stanzas from the poem. 
 
 
Ormond Hotel (Shira Shirim): the altercation
with a truculent troglodyte in

still, “at the holy show I am”, where his went, “her white”, who promised her, letterwrit, upturned stoodup, idle whose sainted eyes, who left without having written her, burr, “By went his eyes”, two boots, to wit, she, to boot, I, drowsy, in silence, go, “amoroso ma non troppo”, “the rhododendrons”, one, foursquare, archaicmurmured one, plus one drop but none create, “all harpsichording”, pianosuspended, all repressing accusing lull, kidneychoaked, sings, “M’appari tutt’amor”, amorousness, inertia mashed torpor, but the music of this this, who promised her incisions, horsd’ouevres, isness of a previous horse, my stiletto in your falsetto, of course, no Stetson can, “With a cock with a carra”, cocksureheaded, sic, est, hic





Bernard Kiernan's premises (holocaust):
a blank period of time including a

dogsology, the Pilgrim’s Plagiar, Mu, Per che non pioggia, “Honorable members of”, fiction from non, four million fifteen thousand six hundred and, seventy six, I, too, have speech, a day’s anti vitae, fed lambaste, disloquacity, our butter breaded and, beatéduppéd, on a timid, figured page, revisederasedadrift, matriculated amiably, quando inver’ Madïan discese I colli, “Ho ho begob” he slobbed, deep-throated Engins belcht, “Arrah!”, squelch’d and splash’d the Gorgons disgorg’d, it is the blackbird of Darrycarn that Finn brought from Norway, “for he was a malefactor”, [italics mine], acque alzaof reviv’d Adonise calma, to emphasize “Kiernan and Co.”, by whose clues bloomed aplenty, in hiddened arhỳthms, erst wooéd, bolster up my memory, speak in postulates





cardrive, a visit to a house of mourning, 
a leavetaking (wilderness): the

Ora Pro Nobis”, for instance, consubstantial, “Clery’s summer sale”, for example, gratuitous, et lie sey-wrakis earundem, at least to all who heard, evanescent, he, who was hard pressed, hard on the head, in hand, and so forth, and wept, with thumbs a’thrummin, “Ora Pro Nobis”, so wrought with apparition, etiquette, et cetera, and tapestry, scantily, O Michaellike cocksbody, “The new I want,” the how the whomever, a hand in the morrow, shipwreck, “seawrack”, now nausea, escapes the whom and, spilled somehow, “All quiet on Howth now”, in summary, fertile lectern, finally, she participates, a wrested front, Western and, harder pressed, recited, “Ora Pro Nobis”, orbs abounding, “aimed the ball once or twice and”





eroticism produced by feminine exhibitionism (rite of Onan):
the prolonged

i.
or as the was by them a “sapience” homo fluxus the lust of whose “benefaction” reached elements inexistent whose “loose boyconnell flux” matched “acumen” reservoirs tooth and tithe as by them was said to scathe soothe or sour complaint too “lutulent” to have been highly esteemed with iteration every of which scarcely indebted all accident to all the up desires whereby countenance of corpulence could have loosed deceit of infidelity rused but the proverbial arousal not opulence not scarcely optimized but so bared the women remnants irreparable ineluctably steamdozed by then “Lacus Mortis” mutatis mutandis come si come sa i stati uniti et cetera circumventing aporia prescribed to have halved half a heifer’s





Note: "Sedici, Ulysses" by Christophe Casamassima is appearing in installments. Click here to read more stanzas from the poem. 
 
 
The wastages and way stations of the ocean
take the coast in small denominations.
POP, a tropical island themed park
where at the end, in a semblance of volcano,
we'd ride small train cars out over the water,
has washed away, its wreckage clearly rendered
in the surfing scenes of Lords of Dogtown.
The pier at Santa Monica, more stable
perhaps, or calling for a deeper investment
for its boat moors, has since gone all touristical.
No more is it just a place to catch fish
with carny stalls and a famous carrousel.
At one time I would find the hidden niches
to cast my line from, pulling up small bass
and a few other fry, but I was no fisherman,
and never stomached gutting as well as I could.
At pier's end the boats unloaded their catch,
freight carts of fish kept chilled with blocks of ice,
on second-layer levels by the boat house.
Below the pier, amongst the staggered pylons,
druggies and queers rendezvoused.  But what did I know
then of this?  The few times fishing, the thousand walks
along the pier to its facing toward the water
then back, brings back to mind I all I remember
of life along the ancient palisade,
the disappearing city of my youth.
Beside the California Avenue incline
the ruins of an old hotel, ornamented
in grand Egyptian frippery, had left
only the imprint of its swimming pool,
a large terra cotta colored basin
filled with the glyphs of Isis and Osiris,
and home to rubble and old shopping carts
pushed from the cliffs above in delinquent joy.
As Jeffers says, in the few thousand years
that sees the decimation of all cities
perhaps a few cascades of stone will linger,
signs of the more important monuments
of homo fiduciarius.  But still
will stay the overall layout of the coast,
the eating ocean, solid in its ambivalence,
forever taking and depositing,
and rendering the rhythms of the coast
in the continuous music of its washing
as wave hits shore and pylon, carrying all
with its incessant beat: wave, wave, wave, wave.  

 
 
delivery of Mrs Mina Purefoy (heave offering):
the visit to the disorderly house 


ii.
nigredo, agrarian heart, “Omphalos with an obelisk”, which left a glyph, for three days thought she, addressed form, redressed, againdeath, eft he to ward went thusly, a mere wound, wayfarer, wherefore?, to Mareswomb, cockscomb, and therefrom was aghast within, Urform, inghost, deceased perverses, albedo, blesséd was he passed, Ulysses, of melanin, hornblende, a mêlée ensued, a hymen assumpted, “Mater Dei”, dematerialize, “figlia di tuo figlio”, ailing infrastructure, the infear outlasts us, a scent of gnosis emasculates, to coin a phrase, “death pence”, our guest one hair from Hermetic fare, rubedo, a dubious flow, passed through, sewer of æther, origin, feigned other, rather than mead it sat to barter





of Mrs Bella Cohen, 82 Tyrone street, lower, and subsequent brawl and

dogdays, glovebox, “voglio e non vorrei”, “a pure mare’s nest”, shehole, at whose bequeath?, “slyph’s diadem”, slipped again? (“she gives him the glad eye”), a previous glyph, arise, dogsbreath and gadsfly, at whose behest?, glib wishes arrive, arise ye stitch, “all prick and no pence”, injected inkjet didja?, instead that stench that glottal cry, step aside, Kinch, giver of death and brevity, what’s gotcha?, my creme brulée to your chambermaid, are we aware?, ouioui, and away we go, “hotly to the populace”, you and whose cohort?, she quivers, touché, another theater trick, pauses, diverse guffaws offered, “and his ark was open”, pragmatic pause, “Kaffirs”, and quills of gopherwool, what have you would?, “besides, who saw?”, I





chance medley in Beaver street (Armageddon):
nocturnal perambulation

lapis, “tapis in the circumlocution”, even minutiae lapsed, after feasible exhaustion, ceased, “had to sail on it”, [again, italics mine], seized with extempore, semper fi, or some employ, whatever the case may, but, sound as it may, sound, they say, wait, Greek as it may sound, The Wreck of, rescue?, nuns waylaid, “nonce he was”, off course or, more often, softer than, sound, cause of causes, get up my son, symbol, “embonpoint”, oblivious, as read previously, after publican thoughts, repuddled, or doubled back, “and in a seedy getup”, most coffers sufficed, or, not, none would specify, coy, as they say, could not par force, he was nonetheless, coy, but his tuition, it, his intuition, scattered him, Aztecs, the snotgreen sea
 
 



to and from the cabman's shelter, Butt Bridge (atonement).

belulled, what elements did twain?, “Both indurated by early domestic,” astride the dull unlet abiding arc of instress, “which it subtends”, did them in upperlower sidelanes twain, circuslipped, and howandwith whom were?, estranged, whom less by archaicmeans fell to them dafter excrements than, say, rejuvenated, if seized by gentry?, professioned they triumvirate to a cockedup magnetism, vice versified, both agreed anonymously bestride a bead of undergarment, relief?, jocose relief, and arc’s eventual absolution, soak’s aught to be absorbed, is what is alcoholical as such? and sainted, represented of whipstains, but by such namesake what agreed these scapulae, “the minor was proved by the major”






I had to halfshut my eyes blinded would he come no O tragic heaving either she or me leaves no one leaves did he know me in the box no did he drink did he knowing me O Lord what hope did I have my Hail Mary Im not a horse or an ass am I  what awakened me whose radius whose host of all hosts Im no am I Aram am I Malta am I Jack Joe Harry all gold and glorious he was coming to an end and then running and then he did come down after my hours his and in my dairy my dell my he must have eaten oysters heard me and me saying have we met have we yes O yes weve eaten a whole sheep a shank in my pot and a yard of woolsy his hard demeanor O anything no matter who it was he brought he burst and I saying its raining yes and yes he says your soul you have no soul







Baltimore/Philadelphia/New York
April 2004-October 2005 






Note: "Sedici, Ulysses" by Christophe Cassamasima is appearing in installments. Click here to read more stanzas from the poem. 
 
 
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.



 
 
Jake Crane, Creole Sue,
Dove Campbell, the diffusion
of daybreak, down, for

instance there was nothing for
you. Prove that gospel. O well

connected. The joy,
the feel of her lord that she
used to overhear.

She used to say a
word of it out of plumb. From
me, he says? At a

wake when the torrid and the
nun of that I am here to

read a name?  Were there
obverse meditations of
possibility.

People looking up
at the exertion of the
spine. Better get this

job over quick.  In the dark
chords. Her grave is over here:

the world. Here, sir: the
slow music. You see most of
the dark land they heard.

Is there any... no
trouble I expect. Mr.
Bloom promptly did as

suggested and removed the
saucepan to the blessed: looked at

his feet. Heart to kneel.
His first puff violently
towards the tombstones.

O, the eloquent
fact remained that morning. Then
he murmured then with

force like men. All these rocks with
lines and scars and letters. From

his rank and fame that
tempted thee, and in the past
day, the ghosts of him.

*
A series of renga created with Gnoetry0.2's statistical analysis of Ulysses, as facilitated by end-user Eric Elshtain.

 
 
Picture
Then they all got blind dhrunk - which complated their bliss, And we keep up the practice from that day to this. -- Samuel Lover, "The Birth of Saint Patrick"
Sly Uses:  Having My Way With Ulysses
From Cyclops

June 1, 2012

Seventeen o'clock
 
On the first day of June it was some people say,
That old Bloom got a check for some work it was pay.
He bought for dear Molly garters violet and fair
But that fat heap he married hrumphed "why just one pair?!"
Well now Bloom he does try, and mistakes will be made,
But do we blame poor old Poldy for plans poorly laid?
My dear Mrs. Marion, 'tis only too true
Your man is in peril, mocked, scorned, and he's blue!

You don't grasp my point, what I'm meaning is thus:
While Molly's post-coital, Bloom's making a fuss.
He's stirring up trouble, poking giants in eyes.
Will it end well for Poldy? There'll be no surprise.
While he longs for his Molly (though soon visits another)
Foes want to harm him, beat, hang, maim, and smother!
They'll string him from tree limbs! They'll maul him I swear!
They'll brain him with biscuit tins flying through air!


Now please don't be fightin' for this or for thine,
Don't be so dividin', come on let's combine!
Molly, he gave you nice garters 'tis true,
But he brought you face lotion and four handkerchiefs too.
He'll bring you more lotion if he remembers besides
But poor Poldy's hit bottom and downward he slides.
Treat him gently, with kindness, bring him breakfast and treats.
And for Christ's sake, Madam Molly, at least wash the sheets!

 
 
Exit Bloom. "I'm just running round to Collis and
Ward's and then complete oblivion because
it wasn't broken already."
Kitty: warm. He crossed to the host, "My word," he
said. "A fair amount of money advanced on note
of banishment, banishment from home.  I am

not a red bank oysters.  So I would, where he called
me 'sir.' Look for some clues. Hot and heavy in
the world. Fried everything. Here's this
afternoon. Find damn all else they are masked, with
head covered," sighing. "In here tonight. Glowing wine
on his high horse about the mistake in the

habit of mind in the apocalypse. But I
always looks back on the sly. Take one of his
nibs till the first nail in his eyes
found the Lord has spoken to, touching the much
respected clerk of the bunch though you wouldn't do
anything at all," a silent roar. "What is

home without potted meat?" Dilly followed quickly
and got off lightly with illnesses compared.
A few times in the garden? Out
of it. To which professional status his
rescue of fallen women off the greater bulk
of the screw? Two pieces of jungle meat. Out

of sight, eased himself closer at hand, no doubt, but
lightly! "Know what death is the cause of many
abuses though not in hell. Out
on the bed. Judge Barton, I suppose? Why did
he come? Fifteen children he has anyway. Out
here one foggy evening to look. I mean when

we lived in London somewhere." Safe in a teacup
tea, choking in action. Fields of liver of
sulphur. No families themselves
to overhear. Under a grey sweet mother?
Buck Mulligan bent down to her other things, too
sweet to be ducked in the middle of town.




James Joyce, Ulysses as statistically analysed by
Gnoetry0.2; end-user Eric Elshtain found arguments for quotation mark insertions.