All posts tagged: James Joyce

Blooming Blossom Pome for Bloomsday in Sunny Dublin.

16-06-2010 and I couldn’t find a summer flower poem, so it will have to be a spring flower poem. The earliest blossom in our neighbourhood tends to scatter as soon as a wind rises up, leaving minute wee flowers , scattered all over the ground. They have the virtue of shining milk-white and incandescently in the blue mornings of February before sunrise , looking neatly stitched unto the silhouettes of the trees….. If you are reading Joyce today, I always recommend the Ithaca Section (17) , as it is beautiful : “At sea, septentrional, by night the polestar, located at the point of intersection of the right line from beta to alpha in Ursa Major produced and divided externally at omega and the hypotenuse of the rightangled triangle formed by the line alpha omega so produced and the line alpha delta of Ursa Major. On land, meridional, a bispherical moon, revealed in imperfect varying phases of lunation through the posterior interstice of the imperfectly occluded skirt of a carnose negligent perambulating female, a pillar of …

Modern Visionary Writing, Barbro Karlén.

There are short posts with the most minimal information on Poethead giving glimpses (albeit briefly) of women’s visionary writing. They include Marguerite Porete, (a Beguine who was burned at the stake in the French Inquisition), and excerpts from the beautiful Anna Livia Plurabelle  Soliquoy, which shares a set of images and ideas with Porete. . I have mentioned the antiphons of Hildegard of Bingen and the gorgeous vision-laden writings of Ursu, Touminen and Julian Of Norwich. Mostly they were Women in the Wall (apart of course from the wonderful James Joyce whose tropes and archetypes do share similarities). I have been reading the Karlén for a week or two. I must admit studiously avoiding the poetry and focusing instead on the symbols, not least because I reluctantly accepted it as a gift from an old friend whom recommended it in the highest terms. Its not that I am unused to non-verbal communication, the use of word and tone by women, whose communication is not academic but it exhausts me and I do not know why. On a not unrelated note I see in the Guardian of last weekend …

Marguerite Porret, Marguerite of Porete, and Mrs Anna Livia Plurabelle.

This morning, I was up very early and drinking tea at my window with John Moriarty’s Curlew book before me. The book, What the Curlew Said, describes lightning as emanating from a cloud of ducks or rather, the author who is bodily expecting lightning instead experiences what his body had not expected, ducks landing on a mirrored lake. Moriarty inserted into the body of his text the following paragraph by Marguerite Porret (Marguerite of Porete), “Being completely free and in command of her sea of peace the soul is nonetheless drowned and loses herself through God- with him  and in him. She loses her identity, as does the water from a river- like the Ouse or the Meuse- when it flows into the sea. It has done it’s work and can relax in the arms of the sea, and the same is true of the soul. Her work is over and she can lose herself in what she has totally become: Love. Love is the bridegroom of her happiness enveloping her wholly in his love and making her part of that which is. This is a wonder to her and she …