Reading Ulysses in Montana #319 (revisited)

The wholesome jam rose up in pig defiance to obliterate the coming sense of blissful shame that whispered down from the top of the cottonwoods, the cottonwools, the cottontails, and the cotton to her and hers.

After the blemish of delight sluiced through the caverns measureless to Atlas shrugged a day in the life of a world bearer, a wheeled world bearer, a wheelbearer of world barrows like a gopher hole after snowmelt in the spring, the silent spring. Jackie would have it no other way, but Tommy was not so compliant nor complacent. He placed the place in its place and intoned mise en place, mise en place, mise en place, and the Enplace’s demon said a roll of the die can tell you just as much–or more if you’re given to double split experiments like Solomon.

Dandy is he who would bear witness to her, and dandy is she who would bear witness to him. And vice versa said the little red caboose on the way up the empty mountain of criticism, of crises, of yellow chrysanthemums in the moonlight. “Moo”, said the cow.

Originally published November 13, 2023


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4 thoughts on “Reading Ulysses in Montana #319 (revisited)

  1. Myrela March 19, 2025 / 4:29 am

    The kaleidoscope of cosmic cows and whispered wheels has indeed spun its tale, and as the blush of blissful boulders bows before the shifting tides of thyme, who are we but wanderers on the wheelbarrow path, sifting through the sands of split dice and murmured fates? So, here we stand in the soft moonlight of a thousand chrysanthemums, listening to the cows with a ‘moo,’ but which moo, I wonder, echoes the loudest in the caverns of our minds?

  2. Kalyanasundaram Kalimuthu March 19, 2025 / 11:30 pm

    This piece feels like a dream where reality and nonsense hold hands and take a long walk. Life is like that too—we try to set things in order, like Tommy’s “mise en place,” but the universe always sneaks in a surprise, like a cow casually saying “Moo” under the moon. Maybe that’s the secret of existence: we plan, we prepare, and then something unexpected reminds us that logic is just a polite suggestion. Beautiful writing—it’s like a riddle wrapped in poetry, sprinkled with just the right amount of madness.

  3. Indian Dreamer March 21, 2025 / 12:31 am

    I loved your writing and this is what I came up:
    It seemed it was written in a dream
    The red caboose carried a brown baboon
    And moon lit dews and glistening grass
    Bound in rhetoric, wrought chaos for cheap thrill.

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