Jul 31
WHAT THIS ENTIRE WORLDSPIDERWEB IS ABOUT...
The day of the funeral
an intense cold.
The lions roaring
in the zoo beyond
Fluntern Cemetery.
The confluence of
the rivers he loved
obscured from view
as if forever.
The sun too
a milky misty light.
The silence of the necropolis
broken only by an old deaf man
asking all the time:
"Who...is to be...buried here?"
And when he hears, repeats:
"But who is James Joyce?"
Grave No. 1449 is
meant to be temporary
but even in death
he is Ireland's outcast.
His daughter's madness flickers:
"Cet imbécile...what is he.."
Again a roar of lions.
""...doing under the ground
when will he decide to leave!"
Again the deaf man's question.
"He's watching us
all the time."
As indeed he is.
Life but a Work in Progress.
The author leaves
his death
walks abroad
in all his words.
"bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk"
The last word is the first "thunder-word" of Finnegans Wake as the babble of launguage falls like the Tower of Babel to...begin again.
From page 3…paragraph 3….third word…of Joyce's WAKE. The first of the ten. . . one-hundred-word “THUNDER-WORDS.”
It is merely a composite word of different languages proclaiming THUNDER!
The last word is the first "thunder-word" of Finnegans Wake as the babble of language falls like the Tower of Babel to...begin again.
*
When he told me about wanting to read The Wake we were passing as it happens the church mentioned at the beginning of the Wake...or rather...not passing as we were caught in a traffic jam and so were standing still and the church laughing at us in the Dublin sunshine and delighted to be recognised for its prime position in the book.
So I chanted it like a magic spell( the only bit of the book I knew)and joked that the traffic hated Joyce and would do anything it could to escape both church and words.
“riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.”
And like a charm it worked and the traffic flowed fluently onward to my homecoming. It was like cutting the Gordian knot with a sword of words.
The next time he picked me up from the airport we were once again stuck in a knot of traffic at the exact same spot and nothing moving...not even the air.
So he smiles at me and says in a great declaiming voice( he of the so soft voice)and the words hung in the air for a moment,,,
“riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.”
And sure enough the traffic snarled and flowed under the magic words and let us continue on to home and our hugs and kisses.
The day of the funeral
an intense cold.
The lions roaring
in the zoo beyond
Fluntern Cemetery.
The confluence of
the rivers he loved
obscured from view
as if forever.
The sun too
a milky misty light.
The silence of the necropolis
broken only by an old deaf man
asking all the time:
"Who...is to be...buried here?"
And when he hears, repeats:
"But who is James Joyce?"
Grave No. 1449 is
meant to be temporary
but even in death
he is Ireland's outcast.
His daughter's madness flickers:
"Cet imbécile...what is he.."
Again a roar of lions.
""...doing under the ground
when will he decide to leave!"
Again the deaf man's question.
"He's watching us
all the time."
As indeed he is.
Life but a Work in Progress.
The author leaves
his death
walks abroad
in all his words.
"bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk"
The last word is the first "thunder-word" of Finnegans Wake as the babble of launguage falls like the Tower of Babel to...begin again.
From page 3…paragraph 3….third word…of Joyce's WAKE. The first of the ten. . . one-hundred-word “THUNDER-WORDS.”
It is merely a composite word of different languages proclaiming THUNDER!
The last word is the first "thunder-word" of Finnegans Wake as the babble of language falls like the Tower of Babel to...begin again.
*
When he told me about wanting to read The Wake we were passing as it happens the church mentioned at the beginning of the Wake...or rather...not passing as we were caught in a traffic jam and so were standing still and the church laughing at us in the Dublin sunshine and delighted to be recognised for its prime position in the book.
So I chanted it like a magic spell( the only bit of the book I knew)and joked that the traffic hated Joyce and would do anything it could to escape both church and words.
“riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.”
And like a charm it worked and the traffic flowed fluently onward to my homecoming. It was like cutting the Gordian knot with a sword of words.
The next time he picked me up from the airport we were once again stuck in a knot of traffic at the exact same spot and nothing moving...not even the air.
So he smiles at me and says in a great declaiming voice( he of the so soft voice)and the words hung in the air for a moment,,,
“riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.”
And sure enough the traffic snarled and flowed under the magic words and let us continue on to home and our hugs and kisses.
