. . . So, this Edgar Poe, while playing White Knight against the "school of Quietude", was at the same time playing Author of a British conchology textbook.

In chess, "where the pieces have different and bizarre motions, with various and variable values, what is only complex is mistaken. . . for what is profound." - "Auguste Dupin", in The Murders in the Rue Morgue.

. . . An here come his whiteface
double, po ol Poe!  1848 slidin like a dyin worm
down Benefit, shoes achin, head achin widda storm
a Whitman onna brain - yeah, the coal lady in lace!

 
Burnin coal, waitin by the window, lookin down
from the broken wall - one helluva Helen firin him!
Afloat in his mind he wander up to th'Atheneum,
gets his blacknwhite ticklelily icon taken

 
with a crown to his brow an his eyes awry, forever
an ever.  He was damned an good at them posterior
analytics - helluva chilly mathematical germcarrier,
Poe.  Black n' white everthing goes t'him - steer

 
for the po-po-Pole, amen!  I mean, Dorr's dyin
bloated an blighted down in jail fo the franchise,
an Poe's upstairs brushin his teeth, realize -
dig Helen in the whitey semperequal sepulcryin

 
shame, man!  She comin back like a ghost,
lil muddy, but o'clay!  Cistern in the grounsoon!
Yeah, he play one limpin' aristocat, that one -
that only lonely Poe, po man - evbody get lost.

                                          
                          - Stubborn Grew

weird how Bluejay was predicting here the orpheosic return of Julie in the latter vols. of Forth of July. "The death of a young woman is poetry's supreme subject." (or something like that. . .) - EP