The Black Dog Tries to Meditate
Freeform poetry from the introspective collection, Black Dog, that runs with a folkloric figure that is often associated with misfortune and used as a metaphor for depression. Black Dog looks at this figure and gives him a voice, letting him bark back at a society that's already made up its mind about him.
Oh, to be like smoke when he comes apart,
and move, in pieces, unbothered by the tangible.
He watches it rise up
while he lies there, heavy as sand
and twice as disparate.
It’s only pieces, but while he sprawls and falls to bits
it seems able, effortless as ignition, to leave it all behind,
let the ashes tumble away
and just
ascend.
He aspires to incense - to levitate, holy, empty as clouds - but he is grit between toes,
a beach without waves,
coarse as deserts and colder at night.
He envies these small
and momentary things,
smoke curling from a porcelain censer, embittered
by his relatively lasting self
unable to do a conscious thing right, when a coil of scented vapour
nails it
instantly
before passing.