"We sit down in our Thinking Chair and think, think, thiiiink."

"Much Madness is divinest Sense -- / To a discerning Eye -- / Much Sense -- the starkest Madness --" ("Much Madness is divinest Sense," 1-3).

My new strategy is to blog about the weirdest poems of the unit, so I'll naturally begin with Emily Dickinson.

That quote up there is a paradox, which I know because equating madness and sense is an apparent contradiction and because the first question in the book told me so. Since it's a paradox, there must be some sort of truth behind it. Let's investigate.

"To a discerning eye" (2) suggests that the speaker sides with those who equate insanity and good sense. Dickinson also writes that those who "demur" are viewed as dangerous and are "handled with a chain" (7-8), so she is not with the majority. "Handled with a chain" sounds like an understatement to me; "handled" is a very light way of saying "imprisoned" or "strangled." Let's keep investigating.

"Madness" is a fairly ambiguous word -- insanity has many interpretations -- but that word "demur" shrinks the area of interpretation to some kind of objection. Here's what I have written in my Handy Dandy Notebook (ding!):

• The speaker sees a connection between insanity and sense.
• The majority sees a connection between compliance and sense.
• When a person objects, the majority suppresses them.

This poem gives me the idea that the speaker doesn't think that locking up all the crazy rebels is such a good idea. (I mean, they're probably going to escape, anyway.)

I'll drink to that!

"Inebriate of Air -- am I -- / And Debauchee of Dew -- / Reeling -- thro endless summer days -- / From inns of Molten Blue --" ("I taste a liquor never brewed," 5-8).

The second question in the book makes it explicit that this poem is an extended metaphor -- a conceit, if you will. I'm pretty cool with accepting that because the speaker is obviously not just talking about drinking alcohol; there is a deeper meaning.

Literally in the poem, the speaker begins to "taste a liquor" (1). She is an "Inebriate" (5) and a "Debauchee" (6), and by the end of the poem, she is a leaning "Tippler" (15). However, certain phrases suggest a figurative meaning.

Firstly, the alcohol is "never brewed" (1), so I know it can't be real alcohol. The things which she is figuratively drinking are listed in the second stanza -- "Air," "dew," and "inns of Molten Blue." All of those things are beautiful components of nature. Air is fresh and crisp, dew settles in drops on plants in the morning, and "Molten Blue" seems like a sky (but I could also see it as water). The speaker is not drinking liquor but is appreciating the world to such an extent that she can compare it to intoxication.

Sometimes I'm kind of delirious when I'm extremely happy. I'm not sure if I can compare it to alcohol or not; from what I know about alcohol, it makes people less in touch with their consciousness and inhibitions. People do crazy things when they're drunk, so I guess they can do crazy things when they're admiring the world around them! I blame my title on being tired.

My first-ever sad poems! Hooray!

"I felt a Funeral, in my Brain" ("I felt a Funeral, in my Brain," 1).

Emily Dickinson "felt a Funeral in [her] Brain" (1), which I think reveals a lot about the imagery in the poem. She felt the numbness of her mind (8) and the "Boots of Lead" (11), and she heard the beating of Drums (6) and the lifting and creaking of a box "across [her] Soul" (9-10). She felt and heard, but she did not see, so her imagery was confined mostly to those two senses. The images still conveyed the somberness and pain of a funeral, but it was fresh to me because I (presumably like most people) associate events with what we see. Dickinson gave me the perspective of feeling and hearing the event.

Now, I'm going to defend my belief about what happens to the speaker in the final stanza -- she dies. She imagines the feeling of a funeral in her brain for the duration of the poem, and that picture in her mind becomes real when she herself dies at the conclusion. She "dropped down, and down" (18), and death is often associated with descent. She "hit a World" (19) because it was new to her -- she was unfamiliar with death, so it hit her when she died. She "Finished knowing" (20) because she lost consciousness, something that seems to happen when people die.

I'm skipping "The Widow's Lament" in my blog posts, but I have a theory I wish to express. The poem is extremely depressing, which is obvious, but I think that the reason the poem is extremely depressing is that the poet himself had an extremely depressing life because his name is "William Williams."