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Read more poems by Carl Sandburg: Carl Sandburg Poems at Poetry X.

Red drips from my chin where I have been eating.
Not all the blood, nowhere near all, is wiped off my mouth.

Clots of red mess my hair
And the tiger, the buffalo, know how.

I was a killer.
          Yes, I am a killer.

I come from killing.
          I go to more.
I drive red joy ahead of me from killing.
Red gluts and red hungers run in the smears and juices
     of my inside bones:
The child cries for a suck mother and I cry for war.

Added: 16 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 21 Nov 2008 9:09 PM | Viewed: 2552 times

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