Where the Fish Are

Sitting pretty in the catbird seat,
Whiling a while, stitching time,
Stuck on this side of the mirror here,
Now I'm wishing, wishing for a rhyme.

But the weather preys on my mind,
Confirming the auguries, the auguries of birds,
I can hear my bones make knick-knack, knick-knack,
And the entrails are singing in thirds.

Still, I'm fishing where the fish are:
Green River, Blue River, Red River, Yellow River,
Black River, White River, Gold River, Silver River,
And the clear, Clear River.

Purple mountains, purple majesties,
Angel skies and a devil's food heart,
Born again as a moth to the flame,
The Milky Way dressed up like a tart.

Sitting pretty in the catbird seat,
Whiling a while, stitching time,
Stuck on this side of the mirror here,
Now I'm wishing, wishing for a rhyme.

Still, I'm fishing where the fish are:
Green River, Blue River, Red River, Yellow River,
Black River, White River, Gold River, Silver River,
And the clear, Clear River.

We'll have ourselves a time,
We'll have ourselves a time.

We will.