[[[Edgar Allen Poe is a beloved figure in Baltimorean history; born in Richmond, VA, the brilliant writer lived and saw various places throughout his macabre 40 years, but spent half his life in VA and half in a quintessential townhouse in Baltimore. Four days prior to his death in the hospital, Poe was found eerily delirious, ranting, and discarded in the grub of the street outside tavern "Gunner's Hall". [more info]........a final chapter to a "most stormy life" ("Alone" by Poe).]]]
_____To fellow locals that dive into the murky abyss of literary mysteries and Baltimore traditions....the event is an elegant and darkly ephemeral tribute to this man. This man who even in eternal rest, cannot rest.
It is an opportunity to experience the growth of the city; from nighttime to dawn, and each passing character that appears.
From onlookers made of artisans and historians, to street dwellers and beggars, it feels as if the brick and cobble SWELL-thick as cognac-into a viscous you can drink up entirely.
It is Baltimore of a century worth of torment and creation, a century worth of this brown dicy place a few loyal artist have called home enough........well, home enough to exist in it.
_____So my loyal friends and I hollered and climbed, shook and shivered, watched and recited, and laughed and laughed...
It's insanity I told them, that will take hold as the cold turns to sore
and the whole body locks against itself to brace for the dawn, yet twitches and races
in such a way that you feel days could be lived without rest.
....<>We met a couple sweetly huddled in the crevace of the corner of the gate; the girl furiously writing intangible sentences in a tiny notebook before hiding it, repeatedly, into the abyss of her furred coat.
....<><>There was the impeccably dapper, deep-Southern man, who as we drove away near 6:30 am, stood alone still staring into the darkness of the off-lit graveyard. Slicked back hair and a so-smooth black peacoat, he seemed to only tolerate our bunch, until-he seemed to smile so jolly and feel so welcomed.
.....<><>Then there was the devoutly drunken guy, who swayed on the pavement in his laps up and down Greene, when he'd suddenly compose himself--and then- in a flourish-dig out a beautiful "Complete Works" from his layers--and shove it excitedly into someone hands to "read, read!", or "hold! hold!" (also credited with taking the group shot after Jeff departed)
And there were so many characters brushing at our ankles, the ones that we huddled against (new and old,
"You all look so cute from up there"
Jeff Jerome told us after asking how we were dealing with the conditions),
and all the distant dreary ones in the emptied lurking streets surrounding, and in all the words of Poe from which we read......and passed along.....a love for such a man....
"You all look so cute from up there"
Jeff Jerome told us after asking how we were dealing with the conditions),
and all the distant dreary ones in the emptied lurking streets surrounding, and in all the words of Poe from which we read......and passed along.....a love for such a man....
Of course if you've paid attention to today's news-after 60 years-the Poe Toaster did NOT show up at all this year.
Another mystery yes, but quite a heartache for our little group of pilgrims...
