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Robert

Roman

Empire

RED BRICK ALLEY STORIES

The Killards Are Coming

Every damn day in Religion Class, Sister Anna Banana yapped about the Soviets revving up to start a nuclear war with the new president, Ronald Reagan. She said after the cities burned to Holy Hell, there’d be something called “nuclear winter” that would kill all... 

Double-Strength Demon Dogs

Fantastic Freddie was the only altar boy from the Red Brick Alley. He was always consecrating Ritz Crackers and trying to make us eat them like communion wafers. He light-fingered incense from the sacristy, and he blessed water from Old Lady Tully’s spigot...

Laser Loop

I couldn’t see over the tall green school bus seat except when we hit a pothole and I bounced up in the air like a Pop-Tart jumping out of a toaster. Nobody at Saint Augie’s could believe I was allowed to go. My first school picnic ever. I was good from the day I handed in my pink...

The Boy Wonder

How the Hell did Jaggerbush get himself up there? He was clawing his way up into the open window above the Science class door like a real-life gargoyle. The blockhead of a wooden mallet stuck out of the back of his Toughskins where his butt crack was. He wore three...

About The Author

Rob.jpg

Robert Roman grew up in Pittsburgh, PA, where he sold newspapers to cars from a concrete island. Read more→

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My Own Private Ulysses: The Modernist Mind of Leopold Bloom

Robert Roman
Feb 21

Art by Robert Berry



The Modernist Mind of Leopold Bloom

 

 

We can indeed know his Modernist mind

With thoughts aswirl like the sea, while his words

Aloud are placid, polite, far too kind,

Masking might like heroes disguised as nerds.

Meanwhile, his eye caresses every curve,

Hip, and thigh. His cravings can be spicy.

Dublin’s his dish, everything’s his hors d'oeuvre,

His heart’s warm, but his urges are dicey.

Meanwhile, Bloom is always misunderstood,

Treated as a stranger in his own home.

But his secret life: ugly, bad, and good

Spills across the pages of Joyce’s tome.

Within Bloom’s mind, you will find yourself.

Change your life, pull Ulysses off the shelf.

 

 

Stay tuned for more Rilke-ripped sonnets

Same torso time, same archaic channel.


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© 2016 by Robert Roman - Red Brick Alley
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