the man rams his head down the toilet violently
bang bang splash bang fucking bang
it's late at night he has a gun up his ass
the man now coneheaded from the ramming
wet and stupid and bloody and all a fury of sewage
he shouts to James Joyce
Jim you Jim come back up I hadn't finished Jim
Jim it's shit but not as we know it
briefly Jim's head drifts up
but retreats at the first headbutt
the man now has to catch a train he rushes out
to the station
what's with you all wet and covered in shit they ask
I was arguing with Jim he says fuck you
he is my muse
next time leave your muse at home the station
master says
or I personally kill you by nail your head
to the track how you like that?
he is a big guy
the man doesn't want to mess
but he can't help it
sorry he says now is that a rare ocelot in that tree
yonder?
when his back is turned the man
the toilet James Joyce man
rushes from behind and his head
enters the ass of the station master
who issues a suitable gumph
now the man parades upon the platform blind
as a shouting lollipop of nothing
drosophila of stem cells of words
Jim's head both eyes hanging poised
in urgent sewers
all up the line the winter whistle blows as mad
as white bowls of butterflies & blood
.
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