This is what I did last night while I watched the Democratic National Convention on PBS (listen to Wesli Court read his poem, "Lunatickle.")
After I took my shower,
And then I heard a young newt howl
At the moon from a leafy bower.
"Oh, Chinese moon of owl Kowloon,"
The young eft crooned aloud,
"I'll love you with a brand new tune
"While I'm attuned and proud
"Of singing here in this leafy bower
A tune that's new to mooning
About a cow lunatical
And very close to swooning."
I dried myself with a brand newt owl
After the spring monsoons
And then put on a grim priest scowl
That I tired of eftsoons.
"Oh, Luna, I can hear you tick
Like a clock that's quite off-kilter,"
The young newt sang till it made me sick
And I bought a new tune filter,
But then I developed an awful tic
That certainly was no boon,
For it got ready to suck the blood
That pulsed through the pale new moon.
I quickly shucked my grim priest's cowl
And took another shower,
Stomped on the newt before it could howl
And streaked from that leafy bower.
Copyright 2012 by Lewis Turco; all rights reserved.