Tomas, Mystery Man
He had an albatross,
Being a Coleridge fan,
He'd information toss,
This former Black and Tan;
He fled to Double Dutch
Bewildering his readers
And built a rabbit hutch
To hide his feathered feeders
That smuggled from the South,
The misty hemisphere,
Put Joyce words in his mouth
And marinated fear.
It's possible the club
Where golf made him the Tyger
Was what destroyed the bird
So violently the geiger
Could not count all the ways
It's possible to kill
An innocent; his days
Remorse - - a bitter pill.
And so he grabs us as
We go into our house,
Disturbing like bad jazz,
Or roaring like a mouse.
poem by Linda Hepner
Added by Poetry Lover
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