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What is Finnegans Wake? An Incompletion in Alphabetical Order

What is Finnegans Wake? An Incompletion in Alphabetical Order   Philip Harvey   This Incompletion is given with thanks to fellow members of the Finnegans Wake Reading Group in Melbourne. Many of the definitions derive from our discussions over the years, both in the room and on zoom. The quotes are from page 93 of ‘Finnegans Wake’, by James Joyce, with an introduction by Seamus Deane (Penguin, 1992).   1.      AN ANTHOLOGY FW is an anthology of world literature, sacred and profane, reworked into original English, without sourcing of any of the quotes, or an index. It is an anthology of proverbs and sayings turned inside out and back to front, so that their proverbiality becomes simply the lever, or the ghost writer, or the template for whatever proverb or saying is next being invented. It is an anthology of stories bowdlerized and pulverised and reorganised to make up one basic story told over and over until it burgeons exponentially into one big story. That big story is made u
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How to Read John O’Donohue

  How to Read John O’Donohue   The writing of John O’Donohue is in pacific time.   It receives a great many queries. Consideration and processing can take several weeks.   Please be sure to give yourself plenty of lead time. In some cases this can increase the time needed to complete the process.   Some have asked to share their own experiences in relation to passing. They find that their own words fail them.   Remain faithful.   Navigate the revised universe. We find ourselves in response to those requests in the writing of John O’Donohue.   The writing created a page, a place for others to share thoughts and memories:   Name, Street Address, City, Province, Postal Code, Country.     Lines found on the permissions page of the John O’Donohue website. This work has been constructed according to the method of ‘remade found poetry’ in Annie Dillard’s book ‘Mornings Like This’ (1995).

Fan fiction 20: Andrew Marvell

To a green thought in a green shade my thought Returns unfurling beneath leaves’ lifetime Comfort zone. Teal, emerald, olive, lime Given and so imagined anew, resought. Down to earth depends branch, leaf and flower Day at the beach bikinis to beanies Night pollution hazes Gemini and Pisces Extinction news ignored by mere powers. To a green thought of another green world I can only summon thought of this world Eternal atmosphere unfurling unfurled Traced down to the watering-can fanned Over the garden on an acre of land And the seed packet scattered by hand.

Fan fiction 19: Alfred Tennyson

  Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do And digitize print past into new norm The follies and wonders in microform, The lost in time and the much ado. Upper case and lower down to a dot … Into the valley of dots go all the words Their meanings immured, their tenses interred, Fresh longevity since newly begot. O firewall they price higher and higher! Saying who has access and who has not, Jolly plunder for the highest buyer. O subscription to civilisation! Canon to the right and canon what’s left, Search terms retrieving available rations.

Fan fiction 18: John Milton

They are servers who only stand and wait Post over land and ocean without rest Each singly. Thousands at their bidding pressed Speed send/receive. Their humans accelerate The in-tray workload, feed their programmed need Blindly task the flat screens’ fleeting shadows, Leave open still unread countless windows That hold old news in limbo and new links breed. The server, herewith their maker, presents Correct with useless information packed In daily scrolls clicks, feeble to prevent Morphed overload. Half-blind their humans bent At interface of this dark world are racked Considering how now their life is spent.

Fan fiction 17: T.S. Eliot

I have measured out my life in coffee spoons As others measure theirs in honeymoons. For some hairdryers, singing in choirs, Others are terminally frequent flyers. Life’s the credit column for bean counters The book shut hard when figures falter. Waiting for a word is a lover’s calendar; Time overflows, when not a colander. Each to their own, goes the stopwatch platitude, Winding the timepiece, setting the alarm, Pretending to adopt a zen attitude. Seconds may stretch to an eternity. Sonnets give an impression of calm charm Then press tender buttons of insanity.

Fan fiction 16: Joni Mitchell

  You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone Sung cheerful as a yellow submarine Long-playing decades, the revolving scene Change Yourself Now becoming Once Upon. I am curious (yellow) to hear the song Heard a hundred times every note a line To another time when it was all mine And yours knowing what you’ve got, then it’s gone. It will be you and me inside the taxi The yellow taxi our lifetimes done Taken away, late last night. No maybe. Like this golden great tracking down the years We don’t know what we’ve got till it’s gone Listening again to its jokes and fears.