There's a danger zone
Not a stranger's zone
Then the little plot I walk on
That I call my home
Full of eerie sights
Weird and scary sights
Every vicious animal
That creeps and crawls and bites
On the Amazon
The prophylactics prowl on the Amazon
The hypodermics howl on the Amazon
You'll hear a scarab scowl
And sting
Zodiacs on the wing
All the stalactites
And vicious vertebrae
Join the stalagmites
With laryngitis spray
Then the acolytes
Who come from Parroquet in spring
Starving equinox
Among the rocks
And the storks

Will seize you
And the Fahrenheit
That comes out at night
To freeze you
While duodenum
Are lurking in the trees
And the jungles swarm
With green apostrophes
Oh, the Amazon
Is calling me
I'm a stork
On the Amazon
The Pax Vobiscum bite
On the Amazon
The epiglottis fight
On the Amazon
The hemispheres at night
All sling
Oh, where the agnostics
Drink all the hippodromes
That lie concealed in mud
Join the metronomes
That live in swamp and flood
Then the kodachromes
Come out and drink them all


Drink their blood-poor ginks
While velocipedes
Among the weeds
Will scare you
And the menopause
With hungry jaws
Ensnares you
Frenzied adenoids
Infest the hills and slopes
Every one avoids
The deadly stethoscopes
Oh, the Amazon
Is calling
Yes, the Amazon
Is calling
Oh, the Amazon
Is calling me
There are, it seems, more than ever
Substitutes for things in our world
Whether it's substitutes for leather
They have shoes made out of corafam
So you squeak along down the street
But you get it for a lot less
So people buy it
There are substitutes for all kinds of things
There are substitutes for people
That walk around
There are substitutes for love
Substitutes for hate
The substitutes for love
Are the ones that worry me the most, I think
There's an interesting poem by Sandberg
About the subject which I think covers it better than any I've ever read
There's a place where love begins
And a place where love ends
There's a touch of two hands
That foils all dictionaries
There's a look that love has
As fierce as a big betel nut
In a Bethlehem open hearth furnace
Or a tiny green fire settling torch
There are single careless bywords
Portentous as a big bend in the Mississippi River
Hands, eyes, bywords
Out of these love makes
Battlegrounds and workshops
There's a pair of shoes that love wears
And their coming is often a mystery
There's a warning love sends
And the cost of it is never written
Until long, long afterwards
There are descriptions of love in every language
But none is found to be wiser than this
There's a place where love begins
And a place where love ends
And love asks nothing