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Man, the Man-Hunter
I saw Man, the man-hunter,
Hunting with a torch in one hand
And a kerosene can in the other,
Hunting with guns, ropes, shackles.
And the high cry rang,
The high cry of Man, the man-hunter:
We’ll get you yet, you sbxyzch!
I listened later.
The high cry rang:
Kill him! kill him! the sbxyzch!
In the morning the sun saw
Two butts of something, a smoking rump,
And a warning in charred wood:
Well, we got him,
Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.