Sunday, November 25, 2007

At Poe's Grave

Baltimore bricks fly in the
Projects the sun
On university bricks
Gets colder
Every year
People waiting for
On Eutaw.

Poe In his heartful
Toward Ulame
Said something to me
I heard it from the rails
in the trees of sleeping birds
and passing the train
the flying treetops at night.

Trees Like hounds oer
The steeplechase moors of my
Frightful friend’s condition-
they prefigure and backflash
Dreadful Remembrance

Baltimore I get there
Traffic is a little sluggish
Because of the officer’s funeral
The radio says.

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