This rope needs a wash. Sullivans Cove, April 2010.
James Joyce was a wonderful writer. He pushed boundaries. He upset people. He was a bad husband. He loved farts. He wrote poems. Here is one.
All Day I Hear the Noise of Waters, James Joyce
All day I hear the noise of waters
Sad as the sea-bird is when, going
He hears the winds cry to the water's
The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
All day, all night, I hear them flowing
To and fro.