Seligman's Dog

Eyes fixed on the closing light,
Not a breath betrays this fright,
I dreamt once of safe and warm,
And felt safety from all harm,
Now I lay me down,
Like Seligman's dog.

Now locked at neck in guillotine,
The universe turns cruel and mean,
I dreamt once, the trust of love,
Felt the touch like a velvet glove,
Now I lay me down,
Like Seligman's dog.

And every tick upon the wrist,
A new ache scratched on the list,
I dreamt once of the hope of morn,
It seemed not a curse to be born,
Now I lay me down,
Like Seligman's dog.

Somewhere a fissure in the clouds,
Somewhere faith, hope, love sing loud,
My eyes closed tight to the angels,
With keys to the locks and manicles,
I need be led and freed,
Like Segligman's dog.

____________

Martin Seligman did experiments on dogs to demonstrate a concept called "learned helplessness" where dogs were given electric shock through the floor with no way out of the room. Eventually the dogs would lay down and whine. Then after restoring a way out, the dog would still not chose escape. The dog would have to be led out of the painful circumstance by hand. It seems to me it is a fit analogy for some of life's experiences and conditioning.

Clouds

A dizzy dance of vapor mists,
And my heart sinks, painted grey,
Even as droplets off wind-gusts play,
In rain sprinkled grass I rest.

What calls this surge to leave the beds,
Of pools, ponds, lakes, and oceans,
Cumulus over sky in endless motion,
And weep o'er faraway lands instead.

In nimbus Rorschach forms of white,
Or in streaming cirrus vapor currents,
Like a living tapestry of firmament,
Plays imaginings and fools my sight.

Then waters reclaim what they have lent,
Drawing mists, drops, snow, and hail,
Even as clouds toward horizon sail,
Their very selves condense, are rent.

Clouds, like stories, like life and death,
Lovely in time, but the moment fleets,
Winds blow clouds, like backyard sheets,
The stuff of dreams, or ghosts, or breath.

Beautiful Boy

Of pain and blood — first cries,
And breath and open eyes,
The womb's safe walls now breached,
As pixie hands, upward reach,
Beautiful boy.

And endless nights of endless wake,
Love's sweet specters never slake,
They cradle pup from every fear,
New breath puffs in parent's ear,
Beautiful boy.

Limbs so slight of bone and skin,
Scarecrow cub — free as the wind,
Yet time will grow sinews and size,
'Til a young man one day does rise,
Beautiful boy.

As his character and stature grow,
Then a father will come to know,
The infant-man dons uniform,
With proud heart, and tresses shorn,
Beautiful boy.

And every ring, and every knock,
Brings every fear, and every shock,
For the one once weak and frail,
Now blazes the most deathly trails,
Beautiful boy.

The day violence breaks this boy,
This beautiful, beautiful, boy,
Now lays crumpled upon the ground,
His fractured frame makes no sound.
Beautiful broken boy.

Of pain and blood, last cries,
Without breath but opened eyes,
Kin and loved ones mourn and weep,
And walk in grief and valleys deep,
Oh beautiful, beautiful boy.

Oh beautiful, broken boy.

The Rose

Silky huddle teams the stem,
Seeping drift of sweet pollen,
Fist-tight greed in morning light,
Allures in hues of lovely sight.

Orb rises o'er horizon's curl,
Rose fair plumage gently unfurls,
Now wafts fine nectar on the breeze,
It beckons beasts, birds, and bees.

Wantonly sprawled in heat of noon,
The flower flirts in a midday swoon.
Like a girl grows to womanly charm,
Finds suitors circle in avid swarm.

'Til hapless lover seizes stem,
To be sole owner of floral gem,
A piercing pain retracts from thorns,
Love and grace are in pain adorned.

As days bleed night and back to day,
Thus softly petals wilt, then lay,
Like an offering at the feet of God,
This — rose's dying act of laud.

Tremble

Silver follicles thinly combed,
Over speckled brow kindly wrinkled ,
His eyes ever inward honed,
Looking for memories long addled,
I remember.

And Pop loved all within his sphere,
Beloved and loving with every breath,
His eyes paled, but showed no fear,
That he was losing the race with death,
I remember.

A gentleman managing his broken world,
Always glad to see someone he ought to know,
Speak a prayer and his brow would unfurl,
And his countenance betrays a warm glow,
I remember.

Lost were places, people, dreams, words,
Barely a shadow of the man beloved of kin,
Mostly he had made the journey heavenwards,
With but a breath hanging on to his skin,
I remember.

The Lord is my Shepherd;
I Shall Not Want,
Pop's eyes clear in connection...
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
A vague look of recognition...
He restoreth my soul:
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
He quiets his search for lost speech...
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
His inward gaze in upward reach...
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:
Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
And contentment imbues his gaze...
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
And Pop sees beyond his mindless maze...

And Pop shortly breathes his last,
Now his tears, memories restored anew,
His sweet Savior now holds him fast.
In that place, he believed was true.

Breathe,
Pray,
Tremble.

Embers

Once crackling and consuming,
Sweetness, light, mirth of mind,
Curtains of carbon enveloping,
Beloved and loved intertwined,
Their bodies and spirits burning
Euphoria so willingly made blind,
And open.

Soon crackles quiet in warm whispers,
And warm safety soothes the bones,
The blazing calms to soft dangers,
All aglow in warmth and earth-tones,
Deepening bonds unite the dancers,
Swaying in warm breezes unknown,
Now deepen.

The crackles diminish into a hiss,
A coldness impinges past the flame,
Limbs fold away from tender kiss,
Each in t'ward solitary frames,
Warmth — a tide — recedes the bliss,
That was once sweetly proclaimed,
Now cheapened,

As embers bleed their heat and light,
L'amour recedes to places far,
Death dying death — day and night,
Once aflame, now cooled to char,
Crimson coals crumble ashen white,
And drift on morning breeze afar,
Unshapen.

Thirsty

When the desert claims the garden
And rivers cannibalize their flow
Thistles consume without pardon
None can either reap or sow,

When skin and mucous membranes
Parch to taut leathery hide
Crusted joints and walking canes
Make for jaunty, broken stride,

When the horizon's broiling haze,
Scorch all stirring in daylight's wake,
Lithesome air sets beasts ablaze,
A lifelessness that will not slake,

'Tis then flash floods raid the sands,
Cooling muddy silt wraps the crust,
And seeds dying within the lands,
Cramped casings give to floral burst,

And crawlers, slithers, walkers, play,
In new grass dew by fragile ponds,
Jubilee that ends the curse of day,
An oasis covenant renews the bonds,

Of living to water, breath, and Spirit,
Of Spirit to dead zones made alive,
Seasonal baptism be the Holy Writ,
Story of each creature born to thrive,

Yet waiting.