Archive for February 2011


February 21, 2011

Joyce wearing My Scarf

Joyce wearing My Scarf

Heading out or heading back again.
And that’s the way it always is and that’s the way it always ends and the fire and the rose are one and always the same scene and always the same subject right from the beginning like in the Bible or The Sun Also Rises which begins Robert Cohn was middleweight boxing champion of his class but later we lost our balls and there we go again there we are again there’s the same old theme and scene again with all the citizens and all the characters all working up to it right from the first and it looks like all they ever think of is doing It and it doesn’t matter much with who half the time but the other half it matters more than anything O the sweet love fevers yes and there’s always complications like maybe she has no eyes for him or him no eyes for her or her no eyes for her or him no eyes for him or something or other stands in the way like his mother or her father or someone like that but they go right on trying to get it all the time like in Shakespeare or The Waste Land or Proust remembering his Things Past or wherever And there they all are struggling toward each other or after each other like those marble maidens on that Grecian Urn or on any market street or merrygoround around and around they go all hunting love and half the hungry time not even knowing just what is really eating them like Robin walking in her Nightwood streets although it isn’t quite as simple as all that as if all she really needed was a good five cent cigar oh no and those who have not hunted will not recognize the hunting poise and then the hawks that hover where the heart is hid and the hungry horses crying and with her blind breasts under her dress and then Christopher Columbus sailing off in search and Rudolph Valentino and Juliet and Romeo and John Barrymore and Anna Livia and Abie’s Irish Rose and so Goodnight Sweet Prince all over again with everyone and everybody laughing and crying along wherever night and day winter and summer spring and tomorrow like Anna Karenin lost in the snow and the cry of hunters in a great wood and the soldiers coming and Freud and Ulysses always on their hungry travels after the same hot grail like King Arthur and his nighttime knights and everybody wondering where and how it will all end like in the movies or in some nightmaze novel yes as in a nightmaze Yes I said Yes I will and he called me his Andalusian rose and I said Yes my heart was going like mad and that’s the way Ulysses ends as everything always ends when that hunting cock of flesh at last cries out and has his glory moment God and then comes tumbling down the sound of axes in the wood and the trees falling and down it goes the sweet cocks sword so wilting in the fair flesh fields away alone at last and loved and lost and found upon a riverbank along a riverrun right where it all began and so begins again