Christ Climbed Down by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, a Favorite Christmas Poem
By Lawrence Ferlinghetti
from His bare Tree
this year and ran away to where
there were no rootless Christmas trees
hung with candy canes and breakable stars
from His bare Tree
this year
and ran away to where
there were no gilded Christmas trees
and no tinsel Christmas trees
and no tinfoil Christmas trees
and no pink plastic Christmas trees
and no gold Christmas trees
and no black Christmas trees
and no powderblue Christmas trees
hung with electric candles
and encircled by tin electric trains
and clever cornball relatives
from His bare Tree
this year
and ran away to where
no intrepid Bible salesmen
covered the territory
in two-tone cadillacs
and where no Sears Roebuck creches
complete with plastic babe in manger
arrived by parcel post
the babe by special delivery
and where no televised Wise Men
praised the Lord Calvert Whiskey

Christ climbed down 
from His bare Tree 
this year
and ran away to where 
no fat handshaking stranger 
in a red flannel suit 
and a fake white beard 
went around passing himself off 
as some sort of North Pole saint 
crossing the desert to Bethlehem 
Pennsylvania
in a Volkswagon sled 
drawn by rollicking Adirondack reindeer 
with German names 
and bearing sacks of Humble Gifts 
from Saks Fifth Avenue
for everybody’s imagined Christ child
Christ climbed down 
from His bare Tree 
this year
and ran away to where 
no Bing Crosby carollers 
groaned of a tight Christmas 
and where no Radio City angels 
iceskated wingless 
thru a winter wonderland 
into a jinglebell heaven 
daily at 8:30
with Midnight Mass matinees
Christ climbed down 
from His bare Tree 
this year
and softly stole away into 
some anonymous Mary’s womb again 
where in the darkest night 
of everybody’s anonymous soul 
He awaits again 
an unimaginable and impossibly 
Immaculate Reconception 
the very craziest 
of Second Comings
			