Upside down

The Upside of the Downside
By Big Frank Dickinson

The upside of the downside of life
Is a crest that looks both ways.
It shows the path of sorrow can
Take us away; and if we follow
That path and don’t turn back,
We move on out of the forest
Of previous hardship into the
Plain of opportunity with its open vista.

The downside of the upside of life
Is a crest that looks both ways.
It shows the path of joy can
Take us back; and if we follow
That path and don’t turn back,
We move into the forest
Of previous hardship away from the
Plain of opportunity with its open vista.

Edginess

Edginess
By Big Frank Dickinson

The edge is sharp;
it cuts the fine line
between the old
and the new.

It is for that reason
that it's an ambiguous place;
we are warned not to dwell
on the edge; it's dangerous.
At the same time; it does
acquire a certain panache –
"Oh – he's really edgy –
He's not bound by the plane
That we live on".
One foot with us –
And one foot on the other side.

How daring to have the oomph that
puts you over the edge where
the rest of us stop.

Edges of views invite speculation;
the horizon binds us on all side.
Beyond it? . . .
The the imagination holds sway.

To live on the edge is to
embrace danger.
One person on the edge is
daring, full of adventure.
A group on the edge
not of their doing - lamentable.

These edge species may go
Over the edge; they not only
Are threatened but also isolated.
There is no close relative to help out.

The Sumatran rhinoceros,
The Cuban solenoden,
Riverine rabbit,
Red panda, and indri:
Living on the edge.

A predicament that
None of them chose.
None of them wants.

Going over that edge (for them) is oblivion.
Not just for them- but their childrens' children's children –
To the Nth generation –
For the rest of us – risking our own private oblivion:
that is exciting; brinksmanship; fringe.
The edge for one can be cutting and incisive;
maybe that is why the hero is always singular;
while the victims are grouped.

So when you go to the edge;
Go alone. Your children will
Thank you.

Navigating Life

GPS for Life
by Big Frank Dickinson

Is there a global positioning system
for all topographies in life?
Where am I in relationship
to what I seek?
Am I on the right road to
contentment or is this a dead end?
How do I get to the state of satisfaction?
Do these destinations even exist?
Maps of places we’ve never been
(Whitehorse, Asunción, and Kyzyl)
not only show the destination, but
also how to get there.
Take the right road;
(Look it’s noted right there on the map!)
and you will arrive; it’s assured.
What about self-fulfillment, equanimity,
or a mutually satisfying relationship?
Is this the road to a rewarding friendship?
Does that alley really lead me to religious faith?
Will that u-turn recapture love?
Unfortunately the terrain is too fickle;
mountains of despair sprout without warning;
oceans of doubt flow in and out of the landscape;
and rivers of opportunity spring up quickly,
and just as quickly dry out and disappear.
No, it’s point to point navigation:
know where you are, and know where you want to be.
Those are your two fixed points.
That is all the map you’ll ever get.
What lies in between -
No roads or trails . . .
just you and your position.
But it's not any global one.
Maybe not even a system.

Tautologies of Summer
By Lorna Crozier

Every morning there are sparrows
and rhubarb leaves. Somewhere
a heron mimics shadows

while desire moves
just below the surface.
In spite of pain

desire repeats itself
again and again
like the snake who

looking for its lost skin
traces its shape in the sand
simply by moving forward.

This is a beautiful poem. Let’s take a look at Big Franks’s travesty or homage to this. It's the repetition that captures Big Frank's imagination. It's entitled:

Whirl
by Big Frank Dickinson

Every whirl brings continuance
and duration. Under
us the earth shines

like a strobe light;
in the fullness of time
a wink at eternity.

Squirrels climb to descend
to repeat again and again.
Hawks to the sky and down.
The lungs breathe in and out.

We turn on our beds;
our great expectations
followed by the unexpected,
with revisions of greatness.

Turn, turn turn;
always the same
even when not.

For every deviation,
for every ending,
for every abnormality

is followed eventually
by its own known beginning,
returning again.

In this way we gain
the only way to
measure our days.