Hey Buddy, That’s Your Dollar Up There!


The moon
is a silver dollar
abandoned
in mid-toss…

Riding down this trail

– reins and saddle
spangled in the light –

I am searching for the one who cast it;

not that I’m interested
in the details
of the wager,
but curious to discover
what will happen
when I remind him

                    that’s his dollar
                    up there.

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Hey Buddy, That’s Your Dollar Up There!

  1. I really like this poem. Is it God that tossed the coin? Why are you looking for the wagerer? What will he say when you remind him? What do you wish him to say? Has he let you down somehow?

    (I don’t expect answers from you, just wanted to let you know the thoughts you provoked in me.)

  2. I appreciate your questions. And I would like to try a little experiment. I’m going to ask myself these questions and spontaneously answer them. And I’d like to invite you to do the same.

    Is it God that tossed the coin?
    – No, he is the one who is holding it suspended in the night.

    Why are you looking for the wagerer?
    – I am curious about him. I want to get to know him and have fellowship.

    What will he say when you remind him?
    – He’ll probably say that it’s okay; he’s gotten used to it being up there. It’s his contribution to the night. It’s where it’s supposed to be.

    What do you wish him to say?
    – I want him to smile as he remembers.

    Has he let you down somehow?
    – I feel compassion for him.

    And now, having said all of that, I remind myself that a poem is like a Rorschach. We often find aspects of ourselves within the image.  Both the meaning we ascribe to the poem and the questions we ask of it are mirrors that reflect who we are.

    Again…appreciate your questions. You sound like a person who looks beyond appearance.  Are you also a poet? 

  3. Giovanni – I was going to say “Me? A poet? Naw, I’m no poet” but in a way aren’t we all poets? What is a poet, after all? Someone who makes a Word Rorschach. Someone who thinks, and feels, and tells the world about it. Some of us write our poems, some of us write them as prose, some sing them, some simply live them.

    I saw the Rorschach of this poem differently from how you wrote and saw it, as my questions give away.

    I saw someone more bereft than he knew, riding lonely in the night, gently lamenting the absence of God and challenging Him to return, to finish the job He started.

    It’s like visual art. We all see what we need to see, I guess.

    Peg

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s