[spoken]
“I’m being ‘moonlit’ right now by an intelligent author?!”

[spoken]
“Your own freedom, yes. The ancient Sumerians called it ‘moonlight.’ Just as you could see the moon’s reflection in a river, whenever the kingdom entered periods of ‘moonlight,’ you could see every moment of the king’s life unfold inside every river. During periods of moonlight, entire families would gather next to ponds and lakes, just to watch their king squat to relieve himself into a river. Every minute of his life could be watched at night.”

[Silence, then laughter.]

[spoken]
“Harry, stop this.”

In the bluest of Earth’s blue, blue dark
Are you there—perchance—in a canoe?
The right way to dispel the fog?
Open your eyes—look, it’s moonlight
Darkness all of you, ’cept for the Milky Way…

“The Moon,” me, an artist-philosopher-poet-sage
A tidal spirit for a reckless age
Being moonlit is like being watched by God
I carry moonlight to be caught by Claude (“Ho ho ho”)

Where was God when you needed Her most?
But I nod to your ev’ry gratitude
I’ll ev’n keep some o’ ’em open for you
It’s good to keep duty to comrades in fog
It’s like I always say, “Can’t win ’em all!”
My demons—Lord—are of the first person
I don’t know how to exist as myself
Except try to excel what I expel well
Repellin’ humiliations even angels can’t quell
How did we get here again?
(“What’s this game called?”)

“The Moon,” me, an artist-philosopher-poet-sage
A total eclipse for a sunless age
Being moonlit is like being watched by God
I carry moonlight to be caught by Claude (oh oh oh)

In a labyrinth of blue nights
Joan Didion said blue blooms, red spites
God and man don’t ever get along (orange glooms, sunrise)
Should man declare God dead, what sets?
(The fear is for what is still to be lost…)
Black hopes, white led
Blue nights, glow red…
(You may see nothing still to be lost)
New moon, stay true
Red wisps, sips who?

“The Moon,” me, an artist-philosopher-poet-sage
A total spirit to turn the page
Being moonlit is like being watched by God
I carry moonlight to be caught by Claude (whoa oh oh)

Blue is the stability of starlight
Blue is Pascal’s wager, moonled
Open your eyes—look, it’s moonlight!
Deep blue—all for you
’cept for the Milky Way…
Like man’s timeless winters could still birth ancient hues
Where was God when you needed Her most?
Don’t know—couldn’t tell ya!
But in the bluest of God’s blue, blue hues
Maybe you and sequoia
Ain’t so different
After all

In the bluest of Earth’s blue, blue dark
Are you there—perchance—in a canoe?
The right way to dispel the fog?