Monday, August 8, 2011

Smells like funeral flowers in here

I could not sleep last night so I started reading some poetry from Edgar Allen Poe and I found myself having to read it aloud to get its full effect.  That guy was disturbed. I mean I knew he was disturbed but I guess I must have missed the degrees of his terror in my youthful reading of his works.

Take this portion of The Sleeper
At midnight, in the month of June,
      I stand beneath the mystic moon.
      An opiate vapor, dewy, dim,
      Exhales from out her golden rim,
      And, softly dripping, drop by drop,
      Upon the quiet mountain top,
      Steals drowsily and musically
      Into the universal valley.”

So I was laying bed, reading aloud and was enchanted by the thought of an opiate vapor. I thought I should probably try to use that phrase more often. The poem goes on and this line struck me,

“My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep
      As it is lasting, so be deep!
      Soft may the worms about her creep!”

So he was clearly writing about a dead woman and he was wishing that as she rotted, it would be peaceful and soft. Soft may the worms about her creep. What a strange sentiment to wish the dead, but I understand it. My tasteless sense of humor of course just told me I should save that line for use at a funeral, but then it wouldn’t probably be taken in the vein it’s meant.

I’ve always liked E.A.P. and I’ve quoted him before. His imagery and imagination are nearly unmatched in its bizarreness.  That’s what makes reading him so interesting. It really did put in the right mood for Monday though. All I could think about were rotting corpses and lost loves buried near the sea. Edgar was clearly a man adverted to working a steady, day to day job. I couldn’t imagine him at a desk handling customer service complaints.

“Excuse me, Mr. Poe. I’m afraid I have a problem with this blender”.
“Blended hell was wrought upon thee righteously”.
“Um, I see. Um, can I maybe exchange this model for a similar one?”
“Lo! The model! Swept away or’e night by angels claws and the green haze of their wings”
“So, you don’t have this model? Dang”.
“Alas, nay. Next!”

I don’t think I got enough sleep last night.

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