[Carol Taylor]

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<tr><td>Homeless in Harvard Square

Armed with my latte, I exit Au Bon Pain
and as I turn and head toward Brattle Street
I see against a wall a homeless man;
he has a small black puppy at his feet.
It's not that I've become inured to these
bedraggled souls camped out in Harvard Square
amid the pricey shops and eateries
while crowds pass by as if they weren't there;
and a dog, I think, might not mind homelessness:
would not feel stigmatized or paranoid,
nor would it love its master any less
because he is unwashed or unemployed--
Then why as I drop quarters in his cup,
do I feel so much sorrier for the pup?

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[center]<table bgcolor=white cellpadding=25 border=0><tr><td>The unexpected shift of focus at the end invites an immediate rereading, a fresh look at an old now-familiar urban character, the street person. That in itself is an achievement, that skillful shaking-up of the reader's tired response--exactly what poetry should do.

The speaker nails down a place, the city scene, with wonderful economy and a vocabulary that plumbs immediately the gulf between himself and the homeless man: "Armed with my latte," "inured," "bedraggled souls," "stigmatized," "paranoid"--we're in the lexicon of the educated Bostonian now, and his couplet says success--or the hope of it--a degree of confidence and comfort, decency and generosity. But also something less reassuring that he himself can't explain, and that he may be troubled by enough to do his own "rereading."

~Rhina

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[Janet Kenny]

Rhina said:
But also something less reassuring that he himself can't explain, and that he may be troubled by enough to do his own "rereading."

Exactly. The poem turns back onto the priorities of the poet. It is a wise and honest poem and the ambience is more than real.
Janet

[Rose Kelleher]

I remember this sparked some debate, when it was posted, about the speaker's attitude. That's a sign of success, I think--that the situation is so realistic even critics forget, for a moment, that it's a fiction--like when viewers shout at the screen in movie theaters. I like this speaker for having the honesty to "reread."

[Susan McLean]

I particularly admire poems that risk making the narrator look bad (if it is not immediately apparent that the narrator is a persona), in which the narrator is willing to address his or her own flaws. One of the greatest temptations for writers is to make one's own reflection look a little better than it is, a kind of preening for the camera. As Rhina points out, there is a lot of characterization in this poem from the vocabulary and telling details, but for me the emotional honesty is the poem's greatest asset.

Susan

[Clay Stockton]

What Susan said. I too love the narrator/poet's emotional honesty in this. (It's so nice to see a risk taken and rewarded!) I think that the honesty reveals itself at the level of word choice: "Armed with my latte" is, I think, priceless economy. The honesty and the vocabulary are all of a piece; this is a poem whose form and content are formidably integrated.

Ever since I showed up at Erato, this poet (who had the misfortune of receiving my second-ever critique, a really lousy one) has impressed me not only with her willingness to wrestle with all the criticism that comes her way, but also with her ability to see through the surface of the crits to find what's useful for her. I've learned a lot from watching her revise--especially in the case of this poem.

Great job, Anonymous!

--CS

[Kevin Andrew Murphy]

Really admired this poem when I first saw it, and was glad to see Rhina sharing my opinion of it--as well as pointing out astute details I hadn't consciously noted, such as the upper class Bostonian diction.

Thanks to Rhina and the poet both on this one.

[Maggie Porter]

A self effacing slice of life poem. Nothing the matter with it. And it is concerned with dogs. So I'm too biased to say one way or the other.

Liked it a great deal.

[Margaret Moore]

Glad to be prompted to read this poem more attentively in the light of Rhina's commentary. Hadn't picked up all the cues to the speaker's socio-economic background on a first quick skim. Still not convinced about 'pricey' - but perhaps that's OK if s/he's a 'take-away' type!

Margaret.

[Rhina P. Espaillat]

One of the things I admire very much in a poet is his ability to peel himself away from "the speaker" both through action and through vocabulary, so as to become someone--speak for someone--he doesn't necessarily agree with on all points, or even like especially. Robert Browning does that a lot in highly dramatic poems, but it can be done in brief lyrics too, and gives the reader more "places to stand in" from which to llok at the poem, and more to think about and feel, too.