[Mark McDonnell]

Hello! So, I haven't written a poem in many months. I've been reading some Big Books, though! Last year Proust and I've just finished Ulysses. I suppose I'm officially well-read now, at least. The latter prompted this, which might not make much sense unless you've also read that particular door-stop (which I have decided to condense into 14 lines ha!). Perhaps it's interesting anyway. Perhaps not. Anyway, I'm trying to get back into the swing. Consider this a start.

Rev

Wombfruit and Quickening

xxxWho made those allegations? says Alf.
xxxI, says Joe. I’m the alligator.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxJames Joyce, Ulysses

A mirror and a razor crossed – the air
expectant, bringing sea-breeze, catechism,
a liquid breakfast. Down the winding stair,
the day spread out for you – it is a prism
to split the light a thousand ways. And east
above the Sandymount the sun will bloom
for a willing cuckold eating fowl and beast,
preparing for the slog from crib to tomb –
from inner organs, outhouse defecation,
from dodging biscuit tins to spilling seed
on twilit siren sands. What is a nation?
Same people in the same place? None agreed.
But oh, the universe of difference! Bless
the sacred difference. Yes, she says. And Yes.


Alternate title and added epigraph (title was “Ulysses”, then “Poldy”).


Ulysses

A mirror and a razor crossed – the air
expectant, bringing sea-breeze, catechism,
a liquid breakfast. Down the winding stair,
the day spread out for you – it is a prism
to split the light a thousand ways. And east
above the Sandymount the sun will bloom
for a willing cuckold eating fowl and beast,
preparing for the slog from crib to tomb –
from inner organs, outhouse defecation,
from dodging biscuit tins to spilling seed
on twilit siren sands. What is a nation?
Same people in the same place? None agreed.
But oh, the universe of difference! Bless
the sacred difference. Yes, she says. And yes.
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