catfish

i dreamed i was tom sawyer fishing in a muddy stream and tom caught a catfish but it was not what it seemed the catfish was abe lincoln and he tossed tom a dime and said, hold on to it, my boy it must last you for all time be wary, said walt whitman for all this will be forgot what is seen will be wiped clean but what is whispered will not then up stepped henry ford wearing a necktie made of worms for he was not george washington and certainly not george burns do not cut down the cherry tree lest all this glory end tom paine is in the parlor making huey long his friend mr vanderbilt has four aces and grant a pair of kings jesse james looks over his shoulder as boss tweed pulls the strings a new book will be written when the old world returns but the children will not read it for no one ever learns tom reeled in the catfish and took the hook from out its mouth custer set out for the territory ambrose bierce went south

poem for grandma

i wrote this poem i wrote it just for you i really wrote it for grandma so that is not strictly true once there was a little dog who lived in a far away continent he barked like he hated the world but that is not what he really meant the little dog had a friend who took the form of a cat but life is a dream so do not make too much of that the dog and the cat were owned by a merchant named mr smith and that is all i know i hope it is enough to go on with i could tell you a long story if you have nothing but time it may not make much sense and it may not even rhyme mr smith had a secret life in which he was a wizard but everybody has a secret life so that is not so surprising, is it? the dog’s name was doctor doom and the cat’s name was plain jane and i forgot to mention the canary who was isabella, queen of spain there was a cow named dolores she was empress of portugal and a duck named walter worhington who was everybody’s pal there was a worm in the back of the garden named harold trumbull the third and a sheep named little gus who was always true to his word they all had secrets from the authorities and from each other and i will finish the story some other time because that’s all for now, brother

the mystery

just when ethel thought that everything was "back to normal" , a postcard arrived from cousin stephen, not from ankara or calcutta but from bournemouth - only two miles away. rabham, the hired man, was watching her from the french window, so she placed the postcard in the desk drawer and turned briskly toward cousin markton, who was lounging on the blue divan and smoking his eternal meerschaum. “cousin stephen will be arriving later today." "stephen, stephen. can't seem to place him. " "you would have met him at the wedding of cousin sophia and cousin tancred. tall, slender, bit of a bully, bit of a cad, more than a bit of a snob." "with one green eye and one violet? wore a monocle over the violet eye?" "the very same." "what's he been up to, eh? no good, most likely." markton took his pipe out of his mouth and studied it. "staying a while, is he?" "he doesn't say how long he intends to stay." "hmmm." markton twitched his shoulders and put his pipe back in his mouth. “he might stay a long time,” markton finally observed. “he might,” ethel agreed. “or he might only stay a day or so.” “he might do that also.” “it’s a bit of a mystery, isn’t it?” “i suppose it is.” “everything is a bit of a mystery, isn’t it, when you get right down to it.” ethel changed the subject. “the hired man is standing at the window again, staring at me.” “you mean rabham? oh, he’s quite harmless. besides, how do you know he is staring at you particularly?” “i know that he is. would you mind going outside and speaking to him?” “oh, very well.” markton sat up, carefully knocked the ashes out of his pipe , and placed the pipe beside the ashtray on the low table beside the blue divan. with a slight groan, markton pushed himself up off the divan and went outside and confronted rabham. ethel watched them through the window. after a couple of minutes, markton turned and reentered the house, followed by the hired man. “rabham has a little sing he would like to sing to us,” markton announced. “really?” ethel asked. “yes, go ahead, rabham.” rabham took a deep breath, and standing erect as a soldier on parade, commenced to sing in a loud clear voice. king richard went out riding a-riding out one day he cut off friar bacon’s head and hid it in the hay maid marian went out walking with a white dove in her hand then rode upon king richard’s back until they reached the holy land king richard drew his iron sword and slew the heathen turk maid marian drank the good king’s health and then went back to work. “that was splendid, rabham, quite splendid indeed,” markton announced when the song was finished. “thank you, sir.” “would you care for a slice of seed cake?” “thank you, that's very kind of you, sir.” “just don’t eat it all,” ethel admonished rabham. “we have to save some for cousin stephen.”