I can't know the song of the south

when my needle points north.

the blue south elegant with lovely lake

eyes in a smiling river on fire look at me

Ape, the tailor whose fine linens he knows

makes a man out of safety pins

proud as an Indian

I figure in future years I'll be stained by the tears

of desperate clinging

Miracle girls commercially perfect

excel at Port Authority

shall I run out to meet your hopes

of liquor, tobacco & chocolate?

up on chalkleg mirror mountain

subtle and juicy