The Poet (Jack McEvoy, #1; Harry Bosch Universe, #5)

by Michael Connelly

There’s plenty of blood for the gorehounds among you—

How do you feel? Trusty words for a reporter. Always the first question.

If not so direct, then carefully camouflaged in words meant to impart sympathy and understanding—feelings I didn’t actually have.

If you were trying to see how much had been written on a specific subject or particular story, the Lexis/Nexis network was the place to start.

Only in a reporter’s world would it be a highlight. We both knew that probably the only thing better than witnessing a presidential assassination attempt as a reporter was witnessing a successful assassination. Just as long as you didn’t catch a bullet in the crossfire.

By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reins upright, I have reached these lands but newly, From an ultimate dim

Thule— From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime, Out of SPACE—out of TIME

In his own words, the killer was an Eidolon. I was chasing a phantom.

“I dwelt alone / In a world of moan,” Poe wrote. “And my soul was a stagnant tide.”

“The Lake.”

But when the Night had thrown her pall Upon that spot, as upon all, And the mystic wind went by Murmuring in melody— Then—ah then I would awake

To the terror of the ...

Death was in that poisonous wave, And in its gulf a fitting grave

In visions of the dark night

I have dreamed of joy departed— But a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted

“For Annie”

Thank Heaven! the crisis— The danger is past, And the lingering illness Is over at last— And the fever called

“Living” Is conquered at last.

“No. They were his last words. Poe’s last words, ‘Lord help my poor soul.’ ”

I dwelt alone In a world of moan And my soul was a stagnant tide

He wondered what it was like living in a place where the images of your former glorious self mocked your present self from the walls.

“ ‘Mountains toppling evermore / Into seas without a shore.’

“Dream-Land,”

But I’m hoping she’s like most TV reporters.” “And how are they?” “Sourceless and senseless. If she is, then I’ll be okay.”