1) FIRST QUARTER Fifi - Can you see the moon? Hanging in the sky? I’d like to go there soon, But I don’t know how to fly... Voices 1, 2 & 3 - The full moon is a versatile performer It acts the parts we write for it. The full moon, Like a giant pitted mirror, Reflects the things we show to it. A nimble symbol... A nimble symbol... Voice 1 - For me, the moon is a Phosphorous bomb; A white hot, incandescent ball, Arching in circles, Watching and choosing, Waiting to descend; Waiting to roar at us, As a circular sound, To burn and destroy with magnetic fire, Like a hot blob of molten bronze. Voice 2 - For me the moon is a disfigured growth Hanging, warty, from the sky Like pallid cheese, Moist like a leprous boil, A circular weeping sore Mocking our inability to blot it out, Shouting that it is diseased, Demanding to be seen. Voice 3 - For me the moon is Cold as liquid helium Emitting thin cries and echoing cracks; A frigid, uninvited guest, Arriving monthly to claim its victims, Marking them with madness, Howling through short hairs, A bristling frenzy, wolfish at midnight. Voice 1 - For me the moon is a Solid rock-bound leer; A dirty old satellite, Grinning and drooling, Peering into summer wood, Profanely gurgling into Bedrooms and shop doorways, The eternal voyeur, Impotent and obscene. Voice 2 - For me the moon is the peak Of a heavy-breasted night, The point of exit and return, Of fertility and fruitfulness, The lamp that lights the face Of our dear Mother Earth, The jewel in the navel Of night’s rounded belly. Voice 3 - For me the moon is A circular observation port, Empty now, but with The light behind it on, Waiting for the eye that will give A cursory examination To see how the experiment progresses, How the culture grows, How the growth has spread.

2) SECOND QUARTER Voices 1, 2 & 3 - The full moon keeps us awake. The full moon keeps us awake. The full moon keeps us awake. The full moon keeps us awake..... Voice 1 - I thought I had some sense, But not a bit of it. How else could I have married Such a perfect shit? He lost the mortgage money On a horse. That’s when I should have Asked for a divorce. He screwed the au-pair And that boy with red hair, But then he always said I was a silly mare. Voices 1, 2 & 3 - The full moon keeps us awake. The full moon keeps us awake. Voice 2 - My god, I realise now I was a bloody fool About that awful business At the Leisure Pool. It was nothing that I planned, Her bottom sort of came down On my hand, But instead of snatching it away I let it stay. Perhaps I really am a monster Like they say. Voices 1, 2 & 3 - The full moon keeps us awake. The full moon keeps us awake. Voice 3 - I worked hard for my future, Laboured night and day, And now the future’s here... Wish it would go away. There’s money in the bank, But now that Mary’s gone, Can’t think of anything I want to spend it on. And once she had died, Felt so guilty inside. I could have spent more time with her If I had tried.

3) THIRD QUARTER Voices 2 & 3 - ‘Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Thou that mak'st a day of night Goddess excellently bright...’ Selene, Eye of Night, The dark-eyed lady that treads upon The heel of the sun, She who is frozen among clouds, The White Shell Girl of the Navajos Who weeps tears of silver, Protector of Virgins, Guardian of chastity, Champion and safeguard of all women, Comforter of the forsaken, And of all receptive things, Achelois, She who washes away pain, Sanctuary of last resort, Tribunal of Final Appeal... Luna, Diana, Juno Corvella, Advocate of every lost cause, Champion of the weak Against the strong, Sponsor of revolt, Patroness of disobedience, Regina Bicornis, Queen of the Stars, Enemy of the Sun, Companion of all who defy The laws of men... The twy-horned Empress of Tides, Pulling the night after her like a cloak As she drives her gleaming chariot Across the Atlantic, With a million fish following In her train... Domina Oriens, The untameable virgin, Goddess of unreason, Spear-head of madness, Illuminating desert battlefields, illuminating arctic massacres, Dancing among night dews On tiny flowers in quiet gardens, And hanging, tangled in The rigging of sinking ships... Mano of the Sami, Olapa of the Massai, Melinoë, clad in saffron, Mama Quilla, Mother Moon, Isis-initiatrix, Blessed Moon Maiden, Goddess of Night. ‘Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Thou that mak'st a day of night Goddess excellently bright...’

4) FOURTH QUARTER Fifi - Look at the poor old Man in the Moon, His face is wrinkled like a prune. He stays in bed ‘till the afternoon, And when he sings it’s out of tune... Voice 2 - What nonsense is this? Look up, any night When the moon is full, Maybe tearing through clouds Like a silver missile, Or hanging, stationary in blackness As the Hunter cartwheels Across the sky, Or in the bright blue sunlight, Like a theatrical ghost, Waiting in the wings for night to fall. Then you can see it, Plain as the nose on your face, Man in the Moon be damned, There’s a Woman in the Moon. Voice 1 - There’s a Woman in the Moon.... There’s a Woman in the Moon.... Voice 2 - Dark, dark, deep-set eyes, Seas of Storms, not Seas of Tranquillity, Brows drawn up in the centre Like the Tragic Mask. She’s not looking at us, Her face is turned a little to one side, Focussed on something Beyond us and behind us, And she doesn’t like what she sees. Voice 1 - There’s a Woman in the Moon.... Voice 2 - Her mouth is open, Small soft lips parted, as if in shock, Or in disgust, Or disbelief, or perhaps in pain. The right cheek is smeared With something, Blood, maybe, or chocolate... Look up, any night When the moon is full, As the Hunter cartwheels Across the sky, And she will show you her face. But keep your distance; She guards her privacy. Approach her any closer And she will retire. Approach her with a camera, Or binoculars Or any kind of lens, And you will find her gone, Vanished into an ambiguous immensity Of polished rock. She is not a social creature. Voice 1 - There’s a Woman in the Moon.... Voice 2 - Perhaps I am reading her wrong. Perhaps those hooded eyes Are half-closed, Focused inwards, Mare Nectaris, Mare Somniorum, Her chin raised slightly, mouth open, Small, soft lips parted in pleasure. Voice 1 - There’s a Woman in the Moon.... Voice 2 - Perhaps that face could be in ecstasy, Her cheek still smeared With something, Blood, maybe, or chocolate. Perhaps the Earth moves for her. Voice 3 - A classic example of Pareidolia, The false perception of faces In natural formations. Voice 2 - Maybe so, but there’s still A Woman in the Moon. Voice 3 - Merely a variety of apophenia, The finding of non-existent patterns In random data. Voice 2 - Nar... There’s a Woman in the Moon. Voice 1 - There’s a Woman in the Moon....