The Whole declared, “You’ll never know the sum of all My parts, so stop your foolish figuring, and mend your broken hearts.”
“My piece Invocation is a 16-part canon on one note, and the note is the kind of drone the Tibetan monks use,” he explains. “That piece suggests the dead are speaking to the living, or perhaps it’s a conversation between the living of this galaxy and the living of some other galaxy. Thought is faster than light, it’s instantaneous over trillions of light years. Another piece, The Cosmicode, shows the infrastructure of the universe. It proves that contraction must precede expansion, it proves the two-directionality of time, and it proves cause-effect inversion. Can you imagine that?” [Source]
Moondog invented a number of instruments which he performed his music on (such as the oo, hüs, trimba, dragons teeth and ooo-ya-tsu) and wrote his compositions in Braille. To create a new language, a new music, a “snake rhythm” as he called it: new tools must be used. Trying to understand the work of Moondog without standing on Sixth Avenue, without sight, and listening to the accompaniment of the 1970s streets leaves half the performance unresolved. The closest remaining echo is manifest in his friend Stefan Lakatos, to whom Moondog entrusted his original Trimba.
The complete picture of his music died with Moondog himself, but so it goes.