My Own Private Ulysses: More Logic of the Litany

Bloom’s Sweets of Sin contain the erection            

Of Wandering Rock’s great bridges and bridge          

Both halves of His episode collection.                

Then Music without Words, Sirens abridge.             

Cyclops, His myope foe, Bloom filled with woe.        

Reprover of the Citizen, indeed!                       

But Our Friend of the Frillies failed to sew          

In Nausicaa, and only spilled His seed.

Bloom’s seminal role in Oxen of the Sun is not vague, 

Midwife Most Merciful serves seeds that sprout.       

Potato Preservative against Plague                    

and Pestilence prevents Circe’s pig snout.            

O this prayer by the Daughters of Erin,          

Blesses the fruit of Bloom’s womb unbarren.

Stay tuned for more spermatozoon sonnets.

Same fruitful time, same fertile channel.

My Own Private Ulysses: The Logic of the Litany

Our Odyssey starts with Kidney of Bloom,              

Its Calypso bond’s easy to notice.               

Then with Flower of the Bath we consume

Sleepy smells in the Eaters of Lotus.                  

Mentor of Menton harkens to Hades,                    

Where Bloom defeats a dinge-hatted demon.

Even though Aeolus does lack ladies,                  

Our Lord’s a Canvasser of the Freeman.                

Who’s He who walks Lestrygonians’ land?

Charitable Mason, says Nosey Flynn.

Wandering Soap seems lost in Scylla &

Charybdis, but shall be found deep within.

This Litany of the Blessed Bloom connects,       

With all His episodes’ divine aspects.

Stay tuned for more sacred sonnets.

Same sublime time, same sanctified channel.

My Own Private Ulysses: The Scaredy Cat Strut

When I consider all that’s been written               

About James Joyce’s most curious work,                

And how like yarn, it toys with this kitten,          

So all other duties, I’m quick to shirk.              

When I conceive of running with that herd,            

Boosting its battle cry with my meow.                  

I know I deceive myself. How absurd                   

To think my mewing might deserve a wow.               

When these mightier pens clash, this stray cat        

Will slink down the alley, dodging the war.           

I’m a conscientious erector that                      

Burgles, copies, and jams in metaphor.

This meow could have been a bark with ease,      

I don’t even like cats, they make me sneeze.

Stay tuned for more stray sonnets.

Same kitty time, same catty channel.