Ox dragging a chain of orbs
These orbs are miniature worlds
Men peer from inside the orbs
There is Swift, there is a Bunyan
The Bard, and many more
English from the old, from the now
And from the later
At the end of the chain
A child's cradle
And Mrs. Purefoy screams
Her vocal lightning
Makes the revelers jump
Stephen amongst them
So is Bloom
Buck Mulligan details plans
For a fertilization enterprise
Himself the stud
A horror from Horace Walpole
Enters the scene carrying a poison
The reader drinks it
Siamese twins spider into the room
And take their place at a top corner.
Amongst the clouds mastodon thunder.
Thoughts miscarriage and Doctor tongue
And nurse alcohol, deliver malformed ideas
That spill over the gathered but a mushroom
Widens like an umbrella and conceals them from truth.
And a black panther, since chapter one, still stalks Haines.
It all ends in future gibberish and so like them, I go too. Am fin. Nity.