“Come around to Barney Kiernan’s, says Joe. I want to see The Bloomsday Journal.” Unto You To See What We Would Call Them?   Here comes a group of Joyceans en masse, Forever drinking, yet they never drown. They’re always so crass, they lack proper class, These beasts deserve their own collective noun. A Menace or a Murder sounds correct, But those are owned by crocodiles and crows. Intrusion fairly fits their foul aspect, But cockroach holds that name, Franz Kafka knows. Cons

Art by Camille Pissarro La Place du Théâtre Français , 1898 “O Lord I wanted to shout out all sorts of things fuck or shit or anything at all” - Mrs Marion Bloom Today’s Ezraku : On the Wall of a Museum #3   Faceless Paris from Pissarro’s high view: Profane privacy of Joyce’s milieu.

“I’ve put in so many enigmas and puzzles that it will keep the professors busy for centuries arguing over what I meant, and that’s the only way of insuring one’s immortality.” - James Joyce, allegedly   Enigmas and Puzzles Solved Centuries Ahead of Schedule!   An excommunicated altar boy’s Pittsburgh home lies under siege by James Joyce “Fans” ransacking his comic books and toys. One screamed, “He must free them! He has no choice!” Witnesses claim the eleven-year-old Stole th

Art by Pierre-Auguste Renoir Two Girls Reading, c. 1890-1891 “Your head it simply swurls. Those pretty little seaside gurls.” - Leopold Bloom Today’s Ezraku : On the Wall of a Museum #2 The curlicue cuteness of Renoir swurls: Prudey and crudey, Molly and Gerty, Bloom’s gurls.

My Own Public American Sonnet I’ll give it a go, this American Show and tell. Oh, my meter’s already blown. Yeah, no, just own it: Yell instead of show. I am jamming iambs up my pentameter, da-DUM, da-DUM… I left motif in the dirt, dropped rhyme down the drain. What a pain. Why’s this hurt? Why’m I not numb, Or dumber? What if I like to paint by numbers? Too many questions when you’re plumb full of freedom. But Joyce is supposed to be my model, My muse. He broke every lock of

Art by Vincent van Gogh Tarascon Stagecoach, 1888 “Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leaves, deeply deep, copies to be sent if you died to all the great libraries of the world, including Alexandria?” - Stephen Dedalus, June 16, 1904 Today's Ezraku : The Ubiquity of Epiphany #1 Van Gogh’s green diligence of isolation: Joyce’s sudden spiritual manifestation.

Art by Paul Cézanne Still Life with Cherries and Peaches, 1885-1887 "—Well? Stephen said. The problem is to get money. From whom? From the milkwoman or from him. It’s a toss up, I think. —I blow him out about you, Buck Mulligan said, and then you come along with your lousy leer and your gloomy jesuit jibes." - Ulysses, James Joyce Today's Ezraku : On the Wall of a Museum #1   Cézanne ’s canvas, impressions by daub and dab: Joyce’s pages, expressions by jibe and jab.