Reading Ulysses in Montana #47
Assorted sordid tales, assembled by emblems of dignity, embarked on the back of a barking dog to find the end of the line.
Lions were quickly going out of style with flourishes of fortunate haste, battered with butter alongside the kangaroo of freedom, bound by sacred oaths these three score and seven decades ago. Against the winding staircase, the worm turned into a caterpillar in the kind of transmogrification reserved for only the most contrite species on the distant planet they call Earth. Berms of loam and joy overwhelmed the last of the first timers to enter their name for the winning of a new dishwasher.
But it was dandelion season, and no one knew better than the first last-timers how the rest of the summer would go down, to the ground, to get out of the boom boom.
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I find your writing clever, witty and amusing. ❤️✍️🌿🦊❌️
Wonderfully surreal and wildly imaginative writing. The piece flows like a dream stitched together from symbols, absurdity, and hidden meaning — playful on the surface yet strangely philosophical underneath. Lines like “the worm turned into a caterpillar” and “dandelion season” create a beautifully disorienting atmosphere that feels both chaotic and intentional, very much in the spirit of experimental modernist prose.
I would love a copy of this particular piece of art, if possible.
That’s a really nice way to put it 😊
You can absolutely keep a copy of the piece — just select the text and copy it directly from here
You are welcome to copy it from the post.
Thank you so much..Can you tell me the artist and when it was created? Surely, this is not AI -?
I would hope that I’d know the difference.
It is AI indeed. All the text is by me. The images are by AI based on my text.
Thank you for letting me know…it is nice that AI can dial in some beauty akin to true heartbeats.