8 HAIKU AFTER ULYSSES, BLOOMSDAY

  1 Nimbly leaping, Wing-like hands all fluttering. The forty-foot hole. 2 Make room in the bed Said he with key now at hand And plump body plunged. 3 Tell him she says but What can he do, if not smoke? Life’s not a rose bed. 4 Lethargy. Flowers. The air feeds most. Sensitive. Botanic […]

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The Irish Rose of Paris

You fancied yourself as a writer, I think, So many tales fell, so breathlessly, from your memory. I am sure it was upon a sweeping staircase Where we first met, long before foreign men tempted And twisted us with foreign tales and foreign lips. You, with your cascading curl’s, The color of chestnuts in autumn, […]

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