by upright | Oct 12, 2015 | Ulysses |
His pace slackened. Here. Am I going to aunt Sara’s or not? My consubstantial father’s voice. Did you see anything of your artist brother Stephen lately? No? Sure he’s not down in Strasburg terrace with his aunt Sally? Couldn’t he fly a bit...
by upright | Oct 9, 2015 | Ulysses |
They came down the steps from Leahy’s terrace prudently, Frauenzimmer: and down the shelving shore flabbily, their splayed feet sinking in the silted sand. Like me, like Algy, coming down to our mighty mother. Number one swung lourdily her midwife’s bag,...
by upright | Oct 8, 2015 | Arts & Culture, Why Is This Millennial Sad? |
WHY IS THIS MILLENNIAL SAD? He’s not sure if the old guy who just complimented his “Romney / Ryan” shirt knows he’s wearing it ironically
by upright | Oct 5, 2015 | Ulysses |
Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs. Limits of the diaphane. But he...
by upright | Oct 2, 2015 | Ulysses |
He went out by the open porch and down the gravel path under the trees, hearing the cries of voices and crack of sticks from the playfield. The lions couchant on the pillars as he passed out through the gate: toothless terrors. Still I will help him in his fight....
