the poet inside the poem twenty

the poet
inside the poem
twenty-one poems
by michael andorf
with a folio of
digital images by
graphic design students
at the university of
northern iowa
introduction
dedicated to florence helt (1915-2005) who taught english,
speech and theatre for many years at jefferson high school in
independence, iowa. in part, this project happened because
poet michael andorf and graphic designer roy behrens (who
had never met until recently) both consider florence helt one
of their most memorable and influential teachers.
•••
the poet inside the poem:
twenty-one poems by michael andorf
with a folio of digital images
by graphic design students
at the university of northern iowa
privately published 2013
the copyright for the poems in this volume belongs to michael
andorf. the copyright for each image belongs to the person
who made it. none of the copyrighted material can be
reproduced in any form without written permission from its
originators.
this is a suite of twenty-one poems. selected by their author from
the many he has written in recent years, they address a wide
range of topics. but they have one thing in common: they provide
us with a snippet view of how iowa poet michael andorf recalls
the midwestern setting in which he has abided for more than
a half century. for a transient moment, we see life through his
eyes, simply because he—the poet—is inside the poem.
how did this project come about? in the fall of 2012, i asked each
of the students in a graphic design course at the university of
northern iowa to create a “visual equivalent” of one of michael
andorf’s poems. for the purpose of working with image design, i
required that the students make “visual poems” not by hand, but
instead by the use of computers.
in the end in reward for our efforts, michael actually came to our
class, where he saw printouts of the students’ work for the first
time, and where, graciously, he read selected poems aloud. it was
a memorable evening for everyone in the class, in part because
each student felt that he or she was meaningfully connected with
at least one of the poems that he read.
these pages are simply an effort to share the “collaborative
dance” (a pas de deux of words and shapes) of a poet and
fledgling designers with those who were not physically there. just
as with the poems, we welcome your efforts to search for us—
the graphic designers—since we too are inside the forms we’ve
created.
roy r. behrens
professor of art and distinguished scholar
university of northern iowa
the poet inside the poem
poems by michael andorf
nature’s communion
i go where
the beaver
has carved
a river bank pew
the pileated woodpecker
has whittled out
a view
of nature’s grandeur
i go where
the standing trees
strip off the layers
of my composure
the warbler’s song
belittles
the power
of my presence
i am escorted
where the energy
of the unseen one
is disguised
as silence and shadow
© sarah hedeen
the poet inside the poem
poems by michael andorf
gargoyle-ville
plastic pink flamingos
perch on lawns
of emerald green
ceramic elves
stand guard
over picture-perfect gardens
imitation plaster deer
graze silently
on freshly sprayed lawns
polyurethane canadian geese
wade inside
a waterless pond
25,000 blinking lights
upstage
a christmas nativity scene
can i suggest to picturesque suburbia
some native wildlife
for their manicured yards
are all these make-believe objects
scary reflections
of the hidden secrets
that haunt gargoyle-ville
© jessica libberton
the poet inside the poem
poems by michael andorf
her iowa brother remembers
she ran away from everything green
whether it was st patrick’s day
or a bushel of string beans
she was allergic
to the color of spring
season of grass
sight of mowed hay
her iowa brother remembers
pseudo-sneezing in the flowers
chronic hives in the garden
food poisoning from tasting vegetables
now her curse has become a blessing
life has locked her up
inside a room full of flowers
on a mountain of emerald green
it is our secret
that the members of the vermont garden society
and the customers at her rosebud floral shop
never need to know
© derek miller
the poet inside the poem
the hired man*
poems by michael andorf
he was a tobacco-chewing
glassy-eyed
irish-storyteller
who was a non-fence-fixing
ex-south dakota cowboy
that fancied cattle more than chickens & swine
he had been general patton’s
w.w. ii chauffeur and dog robber
polishing the general’s pearl handled pistols
pampering his bulldogs
there was no escaping his stories
snagging a lady of the evening in deadwood
fleeing barefoot from a nazis p.o.w. camp
sipping dew off a cow chip to be a cowboy
he drank more coffee than water
swallowed more white bread than meat on a sandwich
intoxicated himself more on copenhagen than alcohol
yanked more loose teeth out of his mouth than a dentist
hey jack
may this poem be a remembrance
to your eccentric life and vivid storytelling
* dedicated to jack delaney (1910-2004)
© morgan johnson
the poet inside the poem
poems by michael andorf
dual jobs
my indian job is
plucking feathers from the wind
tasting the spirit of snow
healing with nature’s medicines
communing with the manitou of the forest
remembering the aroma of sweet grass
taste of fry bread
sound of powwow drums
smell of ceremonial fires
it is my white man job
communicating via cyberspace
commuting inside an interstate trance
circumventing political propaganda
shedding occupational stress
remembering the smell of deodorized people
stench of industrial fumes
taste of fast-food gratification
gaze of anesthetized religions
© megan lehman
the poet inside the poem
the goat woman
(from a story by jack delaney)
poems by michael andorf
the goat woman
from lost nation of the souls
owned twelve houses
and dressed in the same ventilated gown
till it disintegrated
into unwashed rags
once a week
she pulled her little red wagon
to town
and filled it with day-old bread
so she could feast on
goat milk and bleached bread
her grandiose estate stood
victorian on the outside
haunted within
the townsfolk stayed their distance
they say her father
cut his throat in the bathroom
with a butcher knife
the goat woman only spoke to men
that sold her hay
for her goats
and a stetson-hatted barrel-chested
lawyer
he protected her iron pile
the town’s monumental
festering eyesore
she said the government
wanted to steal it
and make bullets
to kill
all the young boys
gone off to foreign wars
she spent the rest of her squalid life
with a goat at her side
that licked the wounds
no human could see or feel
© margo niemeyer
the poet inside the poem
poems by michael andorf
brothers to each other’s heart
he rode the swiftest pony
i flew the fastest pigeon
we traded exaggerations
about earth and sky
his glove and bat
were autographed
by ted williams
my baseball messiah
was mr. cub
ernie banks
we collected cancelled stamps
shot cat’s eye marbles
watched marshal j. instead of bandstand
treated our sweethearts like sisters
we were inseparable
brothers to each other’s heart
that understood
more about each other
than ever about ourselves
© maggie reifert
the poet inside the poem
poems by michael andorf
the poet inside the poem
part-time isolationist
full-time poet
with e.e. cummings tendencies
no punctuation or capitalization
guaranteed
songbird specialist
coffee over-indulger
obsessed with
pre-whiteman america
powwows
indigenous people
gardener with much hoe experience
medicinal plant gatherer
with new moon devotion
careless with
precious china
classical music
check book money
last seen
hiding inside this poem
© ben rendall
the poet inside the poem
poems by michael andorf
edna c. hanney (1927-1998)
the first time i spied her
she was pedaling an old rickety bicycle
down a dusty country road
a 21st century calamity jane
dressed in men’s ragged clothes
wearing a faded scarf and scuffed boots
edna was the neighborhood’s old maid
who had cared for her mother until she passed away
becoming the local eccentric
after the sale of her family farm
the feisty female squatter
who survived winters in a tiny airstream trailer
without any running water or indoor plumbing
she thrived by thawing out food in frozen fruit jars
and trapping rabbits in makeshift box traps
edna was touched by the angels
yet was more pitied than accepted by the community
she died of breast cancer at an elderly care center
unpurged of her peculiar personality
© ben uhl
the poet inside the poem
poems by michael andorf
mechanical ponies
thirty years of horsepower
fed to the junk yards
phantoms like
the jade jalopy
the grey ghost
the primer red convertible
haunt me
the ‘77 powder-blue-buick-hearse died
blew its brains out in the carburetor
sputtering out a trail of smoke
as long as a smokestack
call for the hook
dial for the collector of vintage steel
my mechanical ponies
will not run the crushed rocks
taste the midnight moon
ricochet off the wind
again
© megan vande lune
the poet inside the poem
poems by michael andorf
no more horses to ride*
he once rode a horse called thunder
where hailstones ricocheted off his saddle
and rain dripped off the brim of his hat
where he roped whirlwinds
and scorched his brand on every storm
he once rode a horse called outlaw
where he robbed a train called progress
and gave a cowboy back his unfenced past
where he shot every treaty full of holes
and gave every indian back his sacred earth
he once rode a horse called lonesome
where his stories made midnight sad
and the moon’s mood melancholy
where the desert soaked up his tears
and his trigger finger itched his broken heart
now he rides in a wagon named happiness
where he has been lassoed by a lady’s lariat
and cinched inside a matrimonial knot
where his rodeo is in the bedroom
and bronc riding is done in the dark
*dedicated to randy humphreys & tom haes & all their steeds
© kenneth meisner
the poet inside the poem
poems by michael andorf
i once loved a somebody
just a kid from independence high
and you were my one and only girl
with auburn hair and bashful eyes
and hips i stole
glances at
through those sacred days
and i was like a drummer boy
always pounding
on your front door
who was always saying
hey look at me
just to make you laugh
and every friday-saturday night
i am proud to say
found us along some
forgotten country road
loving one another
the only way
we knew how
and we gave it to ‘em
because
she & i thought we were in love
and they gave it to us
because
they knew we weren’t
all i know
now
years later
is
if she would have been water
i would have drown
if she would have been a woman
i would have been a man
© cari murray
the poet inside the poem
poems by michael andorf
warring with war
speeches full of military rhetoric
parades pandering patriotism
society demanding retribution
sons sacrificed for military pride
caskets draped with flags
fields of freshly dug graves
mother’s eyes weeping tears
how many combat deaths
need to be tallied
before another war memorial is erected
if an enemy is the opposite of a friend
if hate is the opposite of love
if revenge is the opposite of forgiveness
if war is the opposite of peace
if death is the opposite of living
why does the human race
need to conquer rather than co-exist
destroy rather than be tolerant
be vicious instead of benevolent
© matthew schmid
the students
danielle firkins
jalessa hall
colin hazelton
sarah hedeen
beau heyenga
morgan johnson
megan lehman
jenni lehmann
jessica libberton
kenneth meisner
derek miller
the author
cari murray
margo niemeyer
maggie reifert
ben rendall
matthew schmid
bethany thomas
hannah thorson
ben uhl
megan vande lune
stephanie wharton
the teacher
roy r. behrens is a writer, designer and distinguished professor
at the university of northern iowa, where he teaches graphic
design, digital image design, and design history. he earned
his graduate degree from the rhode island school of design in
1972, and has taught for more than forty years in colleges and
universities throughout the country.
designed and produced with funding support
from a small projects grant from the
uni college of humanities, arts and sciences
cover: adapted from a photograph of william butler yeats by george charles
beresford (1911). public domain image.
michael andorf
has been married 42 years to his wife beverly
they have two children named erica & carson
and four grandchildren
he attended independence high school in independence iowa
attended loras college in dubuque
and mankato state college in mankato minnesota
he also served in the u.s. navy in hawaii as a torpedoman
he has composed two books of self-published poems
outskirts of town 1982
from a different direction 1992
& has had over one hundred poems published in numerous
publications
and is presently in the process of compiling a third book of
poems
he retired from the iowa department of transportation in 2010
his hobbies include gardening and fishing without a hook
being an avid cinematic cinephile who watches spaghetti
westerns & kultfilms
attending native american indian ceremonies and powwows
gathering native medicines and revealing the secrets of nature to
his grandsuns & granddaughters
and is constantly getting lost to find new places to go