Thoughts about Dixie

The college I attend is named Dixie State University. Even though this is in the state of Utah and far from the Southern U.S., this region is called Dixie because it is in the southern part of the state, and it was originally settled to grow cotton. That is the history.

Presently, the name Dixie with all its connotations has some people upset. Some think that the name is offensive (to prospective students and prospective faculty) and should be changed and that keeping the name will hinder the college. Those who want to keep the name Dixie usually cite tradition, and there have been alumni and donors with great sway who are strongly opposed to the name change. This is also fact.

One more fact: there was a formal decision made (after a whoooole lot of debating and reasoning) recently to keep the name as “Dixie.”

This is what I think. If the name were changed it would help the prospects of the college even though there would be disgruntled community members. However, it is going to take so much effort to get the name changed right now that it is not worth the effort. 

I had a car in the shop recently getting its transmission flushed and resealed. It was in for over a month, and by the time it was finished I was really glad to have it back. This car also has a faulty turn signal that I have to “blink” manually. I am glad to have my car back, and even though the mechanic could have fixed the turn signal with more time, it was not worth it to me to have him keep it any longer. I needed my car back.

I think the Dixie debate is similar to that. If everyone woke up one morning and the name “Dixie” were something else… I don’t think anything negative would come of it in the long run. But for now, this is going to be Dixie.

Don’t Bother with the Lock

In a dream I had, actor Woody Allen
said it best. “Certain models will
and will not get stolen.

“If one car rises or falls
on the market,
what’s it to us?”

Curvature

The silly little pilot is going around in circles,
and I’m a bow-legged little giant.

I see his vapor trail—low on the ends
and approaching the horizon.
The middle arched behind a tall building.

The soles of my shoes
the bottom if his Pepsi can stuck fast in its holder
and the high rooftop all parallel planes.
And still
the vapor trail. Arched and disappearing.

It’s so hard to convince people.
There’ll be nothing but blue skies and a poem soon.
And until our pilot returns, we’ll walk around
flat-footed and forgetful
calling sideways “up.”

Narrative for Today

He was sick and wearing thin
and thinking about himself in third person.

The dialogues and narratives
of the book he had been reading in bed
were stuck in his head
like a dream left intact by drowsiness.

“I think I’ll make some soup and rice,”
he said to himself.

The Ballad of Flaumimmin Bourough and the Lopeslow Bry

Flaumimmin Bourough
and The Lopeslow Bry
crawled from the water’s edge.

Oh —there were tears and joyous joys,
and little things called talbies.
But where the prims were
no one knew.
And away, away they went.

But without the proper emulaunt
they could hardly fill the holes.
—And the holes were everywhere.  
   So they begged the rest to listen,
and adogendly they cried:

“Oh, hear the lin of Essielie,
the timbres fill the air!”
-But what avail are symphonies to those
who have no ears?

 Yes, it was then that they ran akimbo,
and away, away they went.
 So Flaumimmin Bourough and the Lopeslow Bry
-crawled from the water’s edge
to die!