I sat in my office, nursing a glass of hooch and idly cleaning my automatic. Outside the rain fell steadily, like it seems to do most of the time in our fair city, whatever the tourist board says. Hell, I didn't care. I'm not on the tourist board.
READ MORE SEE ALL STORIES“ "Why do you write about angels?" and I say, I don't know; I try to keep them out, and they crawl back in like cockroaches. ” READ
We are gathered here together, in the front pages of this book, so that I may tell you, and myself, several matters concerning Edgar A. Poe, "Edgar, a poet to a T," as he once described himself, and the strange tales and poems by him that are here assembled.
READ MORE SEE ALL ESSAYS