June 16, 2013

james joyce

Every year I insert one new line into my Bloomsday Toast:

Here’s to –

Nora the barnacle goose –

Skin-the-Goat –

the giggle fit of bronze by gold –

the blind stripling piano tuner tap tap tapping along –

the dog’s rag of wolf’s tongue redpanting from his jaws-

Stephen deep in thought strolling on Sandymount Strand –

socks with skyblue clocks, jaunty –

Plumtree’s Potted Meats, which can make of each home an abode of bliss –

Rose of Castille and rows of cast steel –

met him pike hoses –

Come forth, Lazarus!  And he came fifth and lost the job –

On his wise shoulders through the checkerwork of leaves the sun flung spangles, dancing coins –

Private Carr and his escalating oath –

lame Gerty limping, a dreamer –

those lovely seaside girls –

the heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit –

Could a swim duck? Says I –


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