The Review of Arts, Literature, Philosophy and the Humanities www.ralphmag.org
Volume
XII, Number 4 Winter, 1996 - 1997 |
The Red Car of Passion
"With my driving cap and hounds-tooth jacket,
I might even have looked like a sporty sports car driver ---
despite braces, crutches, orthopædic corsets and wheelchairs."
Vignettes of a Tragic Century Dual Micturation in Dublin
Dirty Artists and The Clean Rich
"There was a stillness, a beauty, a sense of infinite, elegiac sadness
and timelessness such as I have never experienced...Here all the
measureless tragedy of the Second World War --- the millions
of dead, the endless seas of bereavement and sorrow,
the extinction of a whole great complex of life
and belief and hope --- had its perpetuation."
"Alone, what did Bloom hear?
The double reverberation of retreating feet
on the heavenborn earth, the double vibration
of a jew's harp in the resonant lane.
Alone, what did Bloom feel?
The cold of interstellar space,
thousands of degrees below freezing..."
"...and didn't Manet and Monet talk about their theories of art
until the sky rained pink tears and the grass turned purple ---
didn't Pissarro chop the trees into little bits of glass.
And Seurat put his poor old mother through the sausage machine
and roll her into linoleum."
The Mess of Love
"It is not love any more, it's just a mess.
And we've made a great mess of love,
mind-perverted, will-perverted,
ego-perverted love."
Death is Sitting at the Foot of my Bed
"Ms. Death is sitting at the foot of my bed.
This wretched Lady Death has got the hots for me
and wants to suck me drier than a fig plucked off a tree."
Avalanche
Moon Dog Song
"I was on top, pressed into the scent
you left at night on the shabby
bed. We were both on acid..."
"Once, when I was too young by far, you and I
Beastly drunk on a train to Madrid, stayed up
All night, our lips like blood red wine
As the night hills white spooks wheeled outside."
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