Don't ask us why — you probably wouldn't like the answer anyway — but this Poetry Friday, we're fascinated by the lyric poems of subterranean lurkers. We honestly didn't think we'd unearth any, but what do you know? Goose Lane publishes a vast amount of really interesting work.

Granted, today's poem is not exactly a poem of the CHUDs (Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dwellers, look it up), but rather an ode to their unique perspective on life and society. Still, though... mole people!

So today, this Poetry Friday, dim the lights and entertain yourself with Peter Norman's weird and wonderful "The Mole Men of Zug Break Into Song" (from the gun that starts the race).

The Mole Men of Zug Break Into Song

Action is afoot on Zug.
Half mole, half man, sinister technicians
toil at smashed machines
four floors under factory facades.

Night shift over, squirming in their bunks,
they dream of light perceived. Dream themselves
a penthouse with its windows gone,
high atop the squats of Zombieland.

Even in their sleep, which isn't really sleep
but sluggishness, they hum
through staves of whisker,
forepaws raking air

to keep the beat. Hush, child.
Rest quiet, now. The moan
that woke you up is nothing
dangerous. Not yet.

The mole men are confined at Zug.
Their sonic labours haven't broken earth;
only their lamentation has gone free,
nosing a path to our doors.