Resurrection | Museum-Quality Art Print

after the mode of Joyce in Ulysses
And so it begins.
That door shut—
with a force meant to be struck back.
Air recoiled.
Dust scattered
through the unmanned hush of an afternoon.
Tablecloth tangled with expired mangoes.
Crinkled packaging held, in its creases,
the reflection of white blossoms, oblivious beyond the window:
pear, peach, or half-spent magnolia.
They bloomed in bitterness—
without reply
to any season’s call (or ours).
No feeling.
No will.
No limbs, no hairy legs.
He saw it—
a guileless child
ripping the white saint from that trembling bough.
Soiled her
with his tiny fingers.
Unforgivable.
Red crusting the web of his hand.
The stench.
And to ease the bite
of the lice plaguing her swollen scalp—
he crushed them,
one by one.
Still—
her lips, bloodless.
Not like the flushed grin of one
restored from fever or charmed by good gossip.
His face:
yellowed, shriveled,
a jilted twig
deaf to rainforests,
mountain winds,
low cool gullies.
Unmoved.
In sum—
unconsoled.
Thus have I heard.
He ran—
ecstatic,
into that place,
crawled for minutes,
reached the rear of a railcar.
His mouth, now chanting—
newer psalms than any covenant ever bore.
Verses half-rotted,
smelling of bleach,
hypochlorite.
One shoe.
One fish left in the tank.
Red.
Like a vessel—
like a heat-source.
—from the tender branches she began
—green leaves bitter as bile
—so did she arise
—like the skirt that stirs
An aged stone wall blocked the path.
His eyes
burned.
He stepped forward,
touched it—
forehead,
nose,
eyes,
skin.
Each grain of lime
spoke to the marrow.
Then—
on the sea—
a temple rose.
And it burned.

便将讲起。
那扇门被以一种令人愿予以回击的力度关上时，空气震荡，灰尘四散于仿若无人的一个下午，桌布和过期的芒果乱作一团，包装袋褶皱的间隙中倒映着窗外毫无知觉的白色花朵。梨花，桃花或者是一些将败不败的玉兰。它们若是苦放地盛开着，便不会对任何季节做出该有的（你我期待的）回应，它们没有感情，没有意志，没有长长的胳膊和长满毛的腿。他亲眼看到一个天真无邪的小孩子从那料峭的枝桠上撕扯下那位白色的圣女。
用他幼嫩的手指玷污了她。
这自然是不行的——指缝中深深殷渍着红色，血臭味儿，为了让那些害人的虱子不再叮咬她发肿发胀的脑袋，他狠狠地将那些小东西细心地挨个找出并揉碎了它们。
只是，嘴唇仍然毫无血色。不像是大病初愈或者遇上什么有趣的谈资时动不动雀跃起来的神态，他的面部枯黄而皱缩像一根失恋的木头，无法再为雨林啊、山风啊、矮矮又清凉的沟渠这样的事物发觉出不同于往日的心思。
简而言之，他无法快慰。
如是我闻。
欣喜若狂地跑到那里，钻进去，费力地攀爬三五分钟，绕到火车车厢一节的后方，嘴里开始吟唱起与旧约远远不同的新诗，一些将败不败的词句，且带有腐蚀性的次氯酸一般的气味。他的鞋子只剩下一只，鱼缸里的鱼也只剩下一只，红色的，供热的器物一般——
——从那细嫩的枝杈上出发
——浓绿的叶片宛如胆汁一般
——便令她萌发
——如那欣欣摇曳的裙摆
一抹古色的石墙挡住了去路，他的目光炯炯
无比虔诚地向前走去，接着，手碰到了，额头碰到了，鼻尖碰到了，眼睛碰到了，他充分地感受着那些坚硬的颗粒、石灰与他的细胞深深耦合的瞬间——接着
海面上，升起一座燃烧的圣殿。