National Poetry Month, Day 18

Poor Emily Dickinson, becoming famous after her death, leaving that giant trunk full of her work behind. This was a genuine fear of my childhood. I can’t tell you how incredibly happy I am to be published. I appreciate it every single day.

Much Madness is divinest Sense
By Emily Dickinson

Much Madness is divinest Sense –
To a discerning Eye –
Much Sense – the starkest Madness –
’Tis the Majority
In this, as all, prevail –
Assent – and you are sane –
Demur – you’re straightway dangerous –
And handled with a Chain –