I wrote this low-key picaresque cat-poem and drew the accompanying illustrations ages ago. It explores the feeling of loss that can accompany transience. All the little pieces you leave everywhere.
I never got around to doing anything with it, which I can say about a lot of things. But I still am fond of it, which I can’t say about a lot of things.
I am the Cat that Sailed to the Moon
One night I sat strewn in the Venetian lagoon
and beheld the gondoliers sculling.
Oft I had dreamed of sailing to the moon
and I sensed that dream swelling.
So I stole a vessel and strung a sail on,
and fled that morning into a yawning dawn.
I saw the dunes of the Assyrians.
I bathed in the waters of Baikal Lake.
I heard the winded plains of the Scythians,
I drank tea with an Arabian Sheikh.
And though I saw forests, lakes, and dunes,
alas, no nearer came I to the moon.
One spring I lay with a widowed priestess,
And we mused on the orb in the satin sky.
I left her for swift tides and murkiness -
dark as dancing black silk with twinkling eyes.
But one night thunder blared and lightning striked -
And fierce waves twisted me off my boat's side.
When I awoke I heard a whistled song
and thought some Rhinemaidens drowned me.
But, no, a host of starlings flew around me
and earth lay below shining in her glory.
I sailed through the heavens, bright dancing stars,
and alighted on the moon, grey and scarred.
I walked for miles. I walked for days.
I passed through the eye of the Man in the Moon.
I meandered through the endless grey haze.
The bleak Sea of Tranquility I trod through.
My paws grew weary, and my eyes moon-blind.
I dreamt of salty Venice far behind.
I found my way back to my tattered vessel.
And flew home. Meteorites and months flew past.
A blur until I saw again my canals and trestles.
But no soul greeted me from my wondrous task.
And when I walked once more on those missed shores
the streets seemed more unfamiliar than they were before.
Now my voice is grizzled and my fur is gray.
I tell my tired tales to weary wanderers,
but they only nod. Nod and drift away.
Soon I’ll doze to the lonely busker's tune.
But I swear it, I swear it to you -
I am the cat that sailed to the moon.
