Poet Edgar Allen Poe died one hundred and sixty years ago today and fifty-four years ago I was reading his poems in my high school English class. A lot of time was spent talking about what Poe meant by this line or that line, a practice I always disliked in English Lit classes. How much more interesting it would have been to first study the man and then his works, perhaps then the meaning of the written words would have been clearer.
One thing I know now that I didn't know about him then was that, very probably, he was a hopeless alcoholic, driven mad by his "long sodden bouts with whiskey". He was also a winter baby born on January 19, 1809, that, and being a Capricorn were most likely leading factors for his dark display of madness. I am a Capricorn too and know there is a darkness about us which follows like a shadow on a sunny day.
Poe died at a remarkable young age of forty but despite his shortness of time of years and clear capacity he left behind an amazing body of work. What better month than October to wander to your local library or book store and get a copy of Poe's selected poems and reread them or read them for the first time. My favorite one begins like this;
VERY DEEP. TG
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