Here once, through an alley Titanic,

Of cypress, I roamed with my soul –

Of cypress, with Psyche, my soul…

Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her…

And I said: What is written, sweet sister,

On the door of this legend tomb?

EAP

“Mr. Poe, why don’t you write your poems so that everyone can understand them?” He replied, “Madam, I write so that every body can not understand them.

My Soul She Shrieks

My soul, she shrieks and flings me down

Laughing maniacally

The wind picks up and lifts her dress

Teasing and pleasing me

All is nothingness, so she says

As she pins me to the bed

With a silver shaft of cold, cold steel

She runs me through and through.

BFB

“Mr. Bell, why don’t you write your poems so that everyone can understand them?” I replied, “Madam, I write so that every body can not understand them.