“I’ve put in so many enigmas and puzzles that it will keep the professors busy for centuries arguing over what I meant, and that’s the only way of insuring one’s immortality.” - James Joyce, allegedly
Enigmas and Puzzles Solved Centuries Ahead of Schedule!
An excommunicated altar boy’s
Pittsburgh home lies under siege by James Joyce
“Fans” ransacking his comic books and toys.
One screamed, “He must free them! He has no choice!”
Witnesses claim the eleven-year-old
Stole the long-lost letters from a yard sale.
An unnamed professor said, “May sound bold,
But this dossier is the Holy Grail.”
A zine publisher and known misanthrope,
Who’s under investigation, again,
Produced Polaroids of said envelope.
The scrawl does seem to be in Joyce’s pen.
These words written to addressee John Quinn:
“Answers To All My Riddles Lie Within.”
Full Story currently being leaked to The Bloomsday Journal.
My Own Public American Sonnet
I’ll give it a go, this American
Show and tell. Oh, my meter’s already blown.
Yeah, no, just own it: Yell instead of show.
I am jamming iambs up my pentameter, da-DUM, da-DUM…
I left motif in the dirt, dropped rhyme down the drain.
What a pain. Why’s this hurt? Why’m I not numb,
Or dumber? What if I like to paint by numbers?
Too many questions when you’re plumb full of freedom.
But Joyce is supposed to be my model,
My muse. He broke every lock of the book.
So why can’t I give it a try,
This entitled, unexceptional ruse?
There is a price for this American title:
Forget the past. Forgo the rules. Forfeit the vital.