On April 28, 1979, a burglary occurred at 615 S. Pinecrest. In June 1979, a local television station received a mailing that included a poem authored by BTK titled Oh Anna, Why Didn’t You Appear.
Based on the Wichita Police Department’s investigation, this poem appears to be an original writing as an extensive search has not found this to be a known, published work, said Lt. Ken Landwehr.
The copy of the poem Oh Anna, Why Didn’t You Appear that was sent to the television station back in 1979 was a photocopy. "We want to talk to anyone who may have seen the original poem, or has any other knowledge of the poem," said Lt. Landwehr.
Lt. Landwehr reports that since BTK resurfaced last March, the Wichita Police Department has received more than 4,000 tips from the public.
"We appreciate all the tips we have received thus far, and we are now asking anyone who has information on the poem Oh Anna, Why Didn’t You Appear to please contact us," said Lt. Landwehr.
"Last week we released BTK’s poem Oh! Death to Nancy and received more than 100 tips from the public," said Lt. Landwehr.
Citizens with information can call 268-4174 between 8 AM and 5 PM Monday through Friday or call CrimeStoppers after hours at 267-2111. They can also e-mail information to coldcase@wichita.gov or mail information to Cold Case, P.O. Box 9202, Wichita, KS 67277-0202.
Oh, Anna Why Didn’t You Appear
T’ was perfect plan of deviant pleasure so bold on that Spring nite
My inner felling hot with propension of the new awakening season
Warn, wet with inner fear and rapture, my pleasure of entanglement,
like new vines at night
Oh, Anna, Why Didn’t You Appear
Drop of fear fresh Spring rain would roll down from your nakedness
to scent to lofty fever that burns within,
In that small world of longing, fear, rapture, and desparation,
the game we play, fall on devil ears
Fantasy spring forth, mounts, to storm fury, then winter clam at
the end.
Oh, Anna Why Didn’t You Appear
Alone, now in another time span I lay with sweet enrapture garments
across most private thought
Bed of Spring moist grass, clean before the sun, enslaved with
control, warm wind scenting the air, sun light sparkle tears
in eyes so deep and clear.
Alone again I trod in pass memory of mirrors, and ponder why for
number eight was not.
Oh, Anna Why Didn’t You Appear
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