0 Ulysses
broods, chin on knees. He rises slowly. A cold seawind blows
from his druid mouth. About his head writhe eels and elvers.
He is encrusted with weeds and shells. His right hand holds a
bicycle pump. His left hand grasps a huge crayfish by its two
talons.)
MANANAUN MACLIR: (With a voice of waves) Aum!
Hek! Wal! Ak! Lub! Mor! Ma! White yoghin of the gods.
Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos. (With a voice of
whistling seawind) Punarjanam patsypunjaub! I won’t have
my leg pulled. It has been said by one: beware the left, the
cult of Shakti. (With a cry of stormbirds) Shakti Shiva, dark-
hidden Father! (He smites with his bicycle pump the crayfish
in his left hand. On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs
of the zodiac. He wails with the vehemence of the ocean.)
Aum! Baum! Pyjaum! I am the light of the homestead! I am
the dreamery creamery butter.
(A skeleton judashand strangles the light. The green light
wanes to mauve. The gasjet wails whistling.)
THE GASJET: Pooah! Pfuiiiiiii!
(Zoe runs to the chandelier and, crooking her leg, adjusts
the mantle.)
ZOE: Who has a fag as I’m here?
LYNCH: (Tossing a cigarette on to the table) Here.
ZOE: (Her head perched aside in mock pride) Is that the
way to hand the pot to a lady? (She stretches up to light the
cigarette over the flame, twirling it slowly, showing the brown
tufts of her armpits. Lynch with his poker lifts boldly a side
of her slip. Bare from her garters up her flesh appears under
the sapphire a nixie’s green. She puffs calmly at her cigarette.)