Do you hear that howling up at the moon,
rising of winds from the coming typhoon?
Don’t smirk in the dark, look at the lagoon
art work waters up like a lost balloon.
Drop the spork, we’re eating out of the spoon -
knee jerk hard work - late in the afternoon.
Spark! There’s an Arc after whistle and tune
from stark of a nymph we built our cocoon.
Pop out the cork, pour me a glass and swoon.
New bench mark of self sloshing blues commune,
cars undocking with roads engulfed too soon,
winter’s bark breaks the roof, no soul immune.
White shark teeth at the hull, grab the harpoon
on deck berserk wolves growl at the blue-moon.
Blue-moon, blue-moon. Two by two. Two by two.
Bat, Bat, Cat, Cat, Rat, Rat, Gnat, Gnat, slug, slug
Ewe, Ewe, Cockatoo, Cockatoo, slug, slug!
No not you, no not you. Stomp, stomp – just two.
Just two. Just two. My-moon, blue-moon. Just Two.
Two guppies, two puppies, two germs, two worms,
Fowls, owls, larks, lynxs, voles, stags, deer, frogs and hogs.
I suppose birds fly, fish swim and men drown.
But two, all but two. First me, second you.
Your moon is far beneath the birthing blue
a stain on typhoon flaws which paid our due
from lagoon to lungs from Jew to Hindu
like a water balloon onto ground crew
an odd slick spoon we awed without a clue
until this afternoon when a canoe
wouldn’t do the tune justice because boo!
Build a cocoon and keep two, form a queue.
Don’t swoon or applaud the new bow of hue;
arrowed our commune. Outlaw by review,
scale you soon, blue-god, by the blind statue.
Us two, we’re immune, we will see this through
with a harpoon in the eye like shampoo.
I-silver and you in blue-moon, blue-you.
Blue-you? I wave and so do you, but blue.
