IN the newspaper office -- who are the spooks? Who wears the mythic coat invisible? Who pussyfoots from desk to desk with a speaking forefinger? Who gumshoes amid the copy paper with a whispering thumb? Speak softly -- the sacred cows may hear. Speak easy -- the sacred cows must be fed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LONESOME CHILD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD DOMESDAY BOOK: LILLI ALM by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: MRS. MURRAY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: HENRY PHIPPS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |