A Descending Poem - Kerry Lichlyter

[Larry Robinson]

A Descending Poem

The simple fact is that life
with all its convolutions, paradoxes and ironies,
ambiguities and buggering endless pairs of opposites,
is pretty bizarre
much of the time.

Was it Beckett who wrote,
“I can’t go on.  I’ll go on”?
And Frida said, “I hope the ending
is joyous, and I hope
never to return.”

And yet some stupid Hindu sage
said the fond memory 
of a blade of grass
was enough to pull us back
for another incarnation.

Ya think the cards are stacked?

Cuz I’ve been pretty fond 
of the occasional blade of grass.
Or sun pillar, or meteor shower.
Or baby’s toes.

And then there was Rosencrantz
who said—when he was still standing
on the scaffold, “I dunno.  I’m
relieved actually.”

So this is a descending poem:
down and around, down and around.
How far down do you
have to go before you
can start back up?

Carlyle described
The Everlasting No
The Center of Indifference
The Everlasting Yea.


On the cross, did Jesus
think fondly of a blade of grass?
Is the Everlasting Yea simply
a glorious acceptance
of the whole steaming enchilada?
The entire, unendurable, all-encompassing enchilada?

I’m thinking going down 
is easier than going up.
Before the arc of my life ends
I hope I get at least a taste
of the ascent, the fruits of one’s labors.

Timing is everything
and Vonnegut said
“God never wrote
a good play in His life.”

But I’d give a lot
for a taste 
of the ascent.  
Wait a minute—
how much, I wonder.
Maybe I better pin my hopes
on grace.

Pythagorus said,
“Ye write and have written down
for posterity how this
most precious tree is planted,
and how he that eats of its fruits
shall hunger no more.”

Pooh, on the other hand,
said the first thing he thinks
every morning is
“What’s for breakfast?”


	- Kerry Lichlyter


“Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.”
	- Wendell Berry