The moon her magic be, big sad face
Of infinity
An illuminated clay ball
Manifesting many gentlemanly remarks
She kicks a star, clouds forgather
In Scimitar shape, to round her cradle out
Upside down any old time
You can also let the moon fool you
With imaginary orange-balls
Of blazing imaginary light in fright
As eyeballs, hurt and forgathered
Wink to the wince of the seeing
Of a little sprightly otay
Which projects spikes of light
Out the round smooth blue balloon ball
Full of mountains and moons
Deep as the ocean, high as the moon
Low as the lowliest river lagoon
Fish in the tar and pull in the Spar
Billy the Bud and Hanshan Emperor
And all wall moon gazers since Daniel Machree
Yeats see
Gaze at the moon ocean marking the face
In some cases, the moon is you
In any case, the moon
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