Happy 170th birthday to the greatest American novel ever written, Moby Dick. Here’s a little poem I wrote for some reason.
~’~’~’~’~’~’~
ishmael and queequeg and ahab and pip
went down to the sea(to board a ship)
and ishmael befriended a giant harpooner
who turned out to be a non-amorous spooner;
who turned out to be a non-amorous spooner;
and queequeg discovered he’s destined to die
but his coffin ends up keeping ishmael dry;
but his coffin ends up keeping ishmael dry;
and ahab was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and
pip came home with a vision of god
and therefore his shipmates called him mad.
and therefore his shipmates called him mad.
for whatever we lose(like a leg past the knee)
it’s actually god that we hunt in the sea