Ulysses and the revisitation

His mind awash with words
           he knew not whence they came
other words
           or others’ words
he knew not
           lapping over him
the pebbles and sand
           white foam
filtering through
           down
under
           and all the years
and all the voices
           heard not in a void
but within a pained
            illuminated word silence
salad days
           promise of youth
great expectations
           and the waters roaring
off the forty-foot
           on a cold December
skies grey
           no bathers that day
his father shivering
           climbed the tower
and gazed out
           the snotgreen sea
read as a timeless book
           mournful
gulls wheeling in the wind
           never again to return
to be sure and knowing
            only what he wanted to do
without doubt
           the lingering kiss
under the volcano
           if only

John Lyons