For B.L., Ph.D.

In the beginning (so the story goes)
There was this garden,
Subtropical,
Full of fruit, with meat enough
To nourish two naked humans
That lived in paradise.
Just one rule applied,
And certainly no need
For a Diagnostic and Statistical
Manual of Mental Disorders,
Much less an International
Statistical Classification of Diseases!

One day, the wicked smart snake
(Who could, mind you,
Speak perfect, even eloquent,
Biblical Hebrew!)
Decided to intervene,
To free those humans, fenced
By imbecilic innocence,
To let them learn
“Of moral evil and of good.”
Indicted (no decent deed goes unpunished),
That well-meaning snake
First, lost its legs,
And, much worse,
Defamed,
Became the incarnation
Of every mythic demon—
The fertile sire of burgeoning
Industrial psychiatry.

You disagree?
Consider.
A naked man and woman
Exuberant, cavort in their lush garden.
Nice, no?
And what is Adam’s
First aberrant behavior?
He hides from god!
Because he broke the single rule
That maintained his paradise?
No! He hides because
He was ashamed of being naked!

Gimme a break!
For umpteen years
He and his lady live in naked bliss.
They eat one piece of fruit,
And suddenly go mental?
What? God might go bananas
Seeing genitalia he, himself, designed?

Face it!
Adam’s cosmic shame
Sowed the fecund seed
That ripened, bloomed the DSM.
We’ve arranged bouquets
Of rules (frequently amended)
Ever since.
Leviticus, Pauline Epistles,
Platonic Dialogues—all first create,
Then define those sicknesses
(Often cured by death,
More recently,
By drugs and therapy)
That adorn this obese book.

While a 5th edition, gestating,
Promises yet more weight,
I wonder at the industry’s
Apparent ignorance
Of Aristotle’s simple,
Eloquent account
Of psychic wrecks.
Virtuous behavior generates happiness.
Two vices border every virtue:
The excess and the deficiency,
Hyper and hypo.
And there’s your DSM,
And all you need to know.
                    (12/9/09)