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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