I passed spreads of field
the places where farmers
made livings from soil.
The view enticed
but I couldn’t stop.
I couldn’t stop
but I couldn’t forget
times spent on uncle farms
before I went to college.
The morning sun shone
but memories in college
in Ames shone brighter.
There I learned
the language of love
the concepts of life
that I held in my hand.
Each book of psychology
opened worlds that lived
inside me.
I learned to see
they were always a part of me
as were aspirations and dreams.
A Grant Wood mural on a staircase
in the university library
said life began with tillage,
and from that stemmed
our crafts and arts we embraced.
Years later
when on break from work
I walked the steps
to see how the mural
survived the hands of time.
It survived as I
but I never outlived memory.
One less-travelled highway
had lost its name
but I recalled the roads
taken with college friends
as we learned to live our lives.
A voice inside said,
come, come back
to the place where
my college years
started.
Burnt out
I came back
from college
in Cedar Falls
for the summer
to a familiar place,
and I was reborn.
Six others and I stayed
in the fraternity
working summer jobs.
The quiet bars near campus
and familiar places
echoed memories
of the bustle
of fall and spring semesters.
But now I sought
a sense of peace,
and two geese swam
on Lake Laverne
near the Memorial Union.
The sun reflected on sidewalks
that crisscrossed
the university campus
journeys taken
of myself and others
to discover who we were.
In the midst of classes
and changing measures,
and I found my place,
although I knew
my life would take
me somewhere beyond.
But for now
the voice that said transfer
two years earlier
called me back.
There’s a young lady in Ames we are told
who claims a pedigree royal and old
It’s Dairy Queen for brunch
and Burger King for lunch
Then dinner where the arches are gold
Written 3/19/22
No cantes para mí, vida mía.
No cantes más para mí.
Cuando tu ojo ya no llore,
porque ya no soy,
No cantes para mí, mi amor.
No pienses en mí, querida.
No pienses en mí nunca mas
Cuando sueñas con otro
y mi vida ya no es,
no pienses en mi, mi amor.
No me ames, cielo mia.
Favor, no me ames más.
Te he dado todo
y no tengo más.
No me ames más, mi amor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Don't sing for me, My Life.
Sing no more for me.
When your eye no longer cries,
because I am no more,
Don't sing for me, My Love.
Don't think about me, Dear.
Do not think about me ever more.
When you dream of another
and my life is no more,
don't think about me, My Love.
Don't love me, My Heaven.
Please don't love me anymore.
I have given you everything
and I have no more.
Don't love me anymore, My Love.
06/08/2021
The country was turbulent on TV,
but not in Iowa
The ‘Times Were A Changing’ for most to see,
but not in Iowa
There was more to sound than snippets or bites,
back then in Iowa
Each voice was heard when spoken and free,
back then in Iowa
The kindling burned in most other states,
but not in Iowa
Ideals were being traded, their price was blood,
but not in Iowa
The generations still talked and listened together,
back then in Iowa
The world made more sense away from the madness
—back then in Iowa
(Dennison Iowa: June, 1980)
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