Tis Late (April Bernard)

God, how many times have you passed that homeless guy on your way to work - on the far side of the street because he's mumbling out loud and randomly shouting at something not there. It's so disquieting. You would like to help him, but he scares you. Days when you are feeling confident you might even like to bring him a coffee and find out what he is mumbling about. But, perhaps like April Bernard (just perhaps), you don't (because you are scared or because things like that just aren't done). So you instead get out your feelings by going home where you compose today's poem.

N always comes across the same mentally disturbed person on the street corner. She even knows of the person - a former graduate student. She never seems to talk to her, but she imagines their sameness: "Her madness is my madness". But it's a helpless empathy. A poem, probably not of much use to the homeless woman, and some good thoughts about the state of homelessness and mental sanity are all that result from their meeting (fine, that we know of).

I like that the poem makes me contemplate such complexities. Has the poet composed a good poem if it does not help the poem's subject? Do you applaud or condone the artist who photographs starving children? Is art worthy for art's sake alone?

And yes, I get that the poem tackles the scene of the homeless woman and then the lucky stance of N - who, despite being 'mad' is safely ensconced away in her studies and not selling trinkets for small change.  But a good poem allows for other thoughts and this one got me thinking about the worth of art for social v artistic good and that's a very neat trick of today's poem.

Favorite line: "Of course the tall stringy woman / draped in a crocheted string-shawl / selling single red carnations / coned in newsprint"

Of course the tall stringy woman

draped in a crocheted string-shawl

selling single red carnations

coned in newsprint - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23386#sthash.M9sXfrr9.dpuf

Of course the tall stringy woman

draped in a crocheted string-shawl

selling single red carnations

coned in newsprint - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23386#sthash.M9sXfrr9.dpuf

Her madness is my madness

Her madness is my madness

Her madness is my madness