At Poe's Grave

Baltimore bricks fly in the
Projects the sun
On university bricks
Gets colder
Every year
People waiting for
Nothing
On Eutaw.

Poe In his heartful
lunge
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-
Dark
they prefigure and backflash
Dreadful Remembrance
unto
Death.

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