Little Billboards #85: Bloomsday

He has hidden his own name.
(from Ulysses, chapter 9, page 199)

You drank plump humor, wet turtledove.
A snake fang paradox, the quaker librarian

is never seriously serious. Heavy-eyed,
a folded telegram smiling, a drunk father preistified.

He thrust mister honey, sick and limp.
We wailed and the clerics laughed.

 

LB#7 is also a Bloomsday post.

More about Little Billboards here.

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