My Own Private Ulysses: The Jeer in the Ear of Bloom

"She set the brasses jingling as she raised herself briskly, an elbow on the pillow. He looked calmly down on her bulk and between her large soft bubs, sloping within her nightdress like a shegoat’s udder. The warmth of her couched body rose on the air, mingling with the fragrance of the tea she poured.
A strip of torn envelope peeped from under the dimpled pillow. In the act of going he stayed to straighten the bedspread.
—Who was the letter from? he asked."
— Ulysses, James Joyce
Today’s Ezraku:
The Jeer in the Ear of Bloom
Jingle of invisible brass under my bed:
Tingle of risible ass-plunder, my dread.
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