Iowa Writes
WILLIAM FORD Distance Learning Circuit Rider
Into the soft yellow and plum- Colored edges of old Bibles, I'm driving home, teaching done, Listening to Mahalia Jackson's "The Upper Room." It's a prayer Anyone country would understand. My students would, some Who actually went to a small school And read parts of Huckleberry Finn Or To Kill a Mockingbird. Older now, so many of them, They've left bad marriages And farms for minimal wages And this off-campus, part-time Schooling for the next level up To a little more respect And family health insurance.
Into the soft yellow and plum- Colored edges of old Bibles, I'm driving home, teaching done, Listening to Mahalia Jackson's "The Upper Room." It's a prayer Anyone country would understand. My students would, some Who actually went to a small school And read parts of Huckleberry Finn Or To Kill a Mockingbird. Older now, so many of them, They've left bad marriages And farms for minimal wages And this off-campus, part-time Schooling for the next level up To a little more respect And family health insurance. When I'm not there in the flesh I see them in the distance On the sometimes shadowy monitor Tapping the keys of the keyboard Or pressing down the speaker bar To communicate with me So many miles away Hoping I've got the word To solve their language problem Because the textbook's Eastern Or Pacific Coast in example, The middle country missing. Sometimes I imagine myself A century earlier on horseback With a new congregation each week Thumping my boot on the floor And clapping hands as a woman raises Her sweating arms heavenward For the coming of the spirit, her tongue Rolling in the good King James And that tomorrow I'll baptize Tonight's saved in the muddy river, Recalling how the Jordan's sand Must have turned gold when The Master himself went under. In this darkness I see young men Picking at their faces to stay awake And women who cannot hide bruises And who sneak a child in Though it's against institutional laws And my own expressed wish. Many of them work so hard I sometimes wonder what it would mean If their constructions could be allowed To run together without punctuation As though language were seamless, Everything joined to everything As in the best Greek manuscripts. Biblical scholars have argued forever Over the placement of a period Lest life become one long stream Of consciousness or fragments.
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About Iowa Writes
Since 2006, Iowa Writes has featured the work of Iowa-identified writers (whether they have Iowa roots or live here now) and work published by Iowa journals and publishers on The Daily Palette. Iowa Writes features poetry, fiction, or nonfiction twice a week on the Palette.
In November of 2008, the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) designated Iowa City, Iowa, the world's third City of Literature, making the community part of the UNESCO Creative Cities Network.
Iowa City has joined Edinburgh, Scotland and Melbourne, Australia as UNESCO Cities of Literature.
Find out more about submitting by contacting iowa-writes@uiowa.edu
WILLIAM FORD William Ford lives in Iowa City and teaches distance learning writing courses for Kirkwood Community College. A designated "Iowa Poet," 2003, at the Des Moines National Poetry Festival, he has published one book, The Graveyard Picnic (Mid-America Press, 2002); a second, Past Present Imperfect, is due out from Wordtech (2006). |
This page was first displayed on March 01, 2006
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