In amongst my reading of Joyce-related Australian criticism I have found a variety of Joyce-inspired poems.
A poem by Peter Steele caught my eye, it is on Eureaka Street online and can be found here.
It's a grand little bundle of verses that conducts a private conversation with the ghost of Joyce, asking the ususal time lapse questions of a "what on earth would he make of all this modern stuff?" nature. The poet walks Joyce around a jazzed up modern day Dublin, rubbing elbows, as it were, with "the cubs of the Celtic tiger". Another nice line conjures the fleshly world of the Wake:
A poem by Peter Steele caught my eye, it is on Eureaka Street online and can be found here.
It's a grand little bundle of verses that conducts a private conversation with the ghost of Joyce, asking the ususal time lapse questions of a "what on earth would he make of all this modern stuff?" nature. The poet walks Joyce around a jazzed up modern day Dublin, rubbing elbows, as it were, with "the cubs of the Celtic tiger". Another nice line conjures the fleshly world of the Wake:
"the mouth of your mind as fluent as the traffic by Trinity’s walls.",
a further reflection on my reading of the Joyce, whether solo or with the FW reading group - that to read Joyce is to get "mouthy" in the way that the text demands, and that the narrative is indivisible from speech.
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