Y

Posted on September 10, 2009

10


why am i looking for inspiration right now? i can still see sunsets, can still get annoyed in the twice daily traffic jams, car against car, making lovers wait and families, bicyclists cruising gaily – what’s missing?

friendship is nothing to me – brotherhood everything. there are a few men who earned my attention and i theirs. we carry each other around in our breastpockets, the pockets of men over male chests thickly covered with goat hair. we eat smelly cheese and sausage on rye and stamp our hooves. we harvest the time left to us, we multiply it by thousand, and we return it to the world. we will be remembered for our courage, for braving the merciless clockwork of modernity. (we take words like this, prune them and fill them in concrete blocks: modernit. we split nouns where it pleases us: we are modern men.) my friends and i wear our hair white and long (but no pony tail, please): we drink orange pekoe.

i am a joycean today, i rub my eye patch with glee,  i reread mysterious lines in the paper: famous critic smashed by giant potato peeler. dublin elected world capital of bunburyism. firecracker discovered under pope’s throne – there is enough drama in this world to fill all papers and all blogs of millenia to come.

i am a wilde man, a beest with telescopic tweezers for fingers: i reach down into the drains and pick up your keys where you lost them: then i follow you home. i open your door behind you, looking everywhere, dropping my eyeballs all over the bookcases to see what you’re reading: i measure the dust weighing on your mind with a scale made of cricket legs.

let us rejoyce: “Is there one who understands me?”

what’s missing? i can still taste water like wine. still smell my woman: the place between her breasts is my fountain of youth. still bicker carrying a bread basket with false teeth. i still get laid like a man, my moisture settling on her bare bush.

i am Y & if you can say my name, you’re Y, too and you must follow me swiftly where i live: in the underbrush of your yearning.

© 2009 finnegan flawnt jamming with joyce.

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Posted in: writerlyAdvice