e-pluribus-ex-communion tabula rasa

Is is not, was was not, being becoming be, classless déclassé. Yes I will, Yes, I said yes, yes…The affirmation of the body, the yes that is the yes to saying yes, I will, yes…Molly’s soliloquy represents, if such things indeed exist at all, the avowal of the body, bloomers soiled, cinched round neck and wattle, the yes to Leopold’s neutrality, his yes that is a disavowal of the body, a no to body as body, a viscera without a bowel, the tripe without innards or lining. It’s no chance of happenstance that Bloom skillet-fries a kidney, the sweetmeat, the pancreatic yes to the no that is the Yes. Plumtree’s potted meats and Molly’s thighs, butter pats, sebaceous, rosin, the lubricant that oils the Yes that is yes, I will, yes, yes…the avowal of the yes, the Yes that is the no to the body within the body, the déclassé of the body, the classless body within the body.

E-pluribus-ex-communion tabula rasa impugns. A fine and gentlemanly day, so it is; transubstantiate ex-glorious, wafers, biscuits and Port, a lolling good time {e-pluribus} on the nip of the tongue, exsanguinations from mud and water; Ipso recto abracadabra etcetera in VERITAS HUBRIS, one more for the kipper on rye Melba and lox.

Hog’s-breath, cock-chutney, Molly warbling arias in the cuckoldry of Leopold’s ear, conch-bone hard as milk-curd.