Carl Sandburg Poems
|443.||Who Am I?||1/3/2003|
|450.||Woman With A Past||4/2/2010|
|451.||Women Washing Their Hair||4/2/2010|
|454.||Yes , The Dead Speak To Us||1/21/2014|
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
I AM put high over all others in the city today.
I am the killer who kills for those who wish a killing today.
Here is a strong young man who killed.
There was a driving wind of city dust and horse dung blowing and he stood at an intersection of five sewers and there pumped the bullets of an automatic pistol into another man, a fellow citizen.
Therefore, the prosecuting attorneys, fellow citizens, and a jury of his peers, also fellow citizens, listened to the testimony of other fellow ci