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#warren woessner
apoemaday · a month ago
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Getting the Laundry
by Warren Woessner
Rest has come again. The cars push their echoes, reading the road like braille. The tired squeek of a single tricycle rolls home. I look up to see a half-moon not quite included by the Power Co-op/Truck Service signs. It has time yet to land safely in the dark. The last patch of dirt in front of the new GTC has hardened into asphalt. Again, there is time. I find myself folding the laundry more slowly than I could. It is a simple thing to do. A thing missed, like picking fruit or sanding wood. Also the warmth. Clothes have the patience of old friends: with open doors, always on my side.
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egoschwank · 7 months ago
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al things considered — when i post my masterpiece #891
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first posted in facebook september 29, 2020
joseph stella -- "brooklyn bridge" (1920)
"during the last years of the war i went to live in brooklyn in the most forlorn region of the oceanic tragic city, in williamsburg, near the bridge. brooklyn gave me a sense of liberation. the vast view of her sky, in opposition to the narrow one of new york, was a relief — and at night, in her solitude, i used to find, intact, the green freedom of my own self" ... joseph stella
"crossing late is best, the bridge strung over the water like a huge harp. sun caught in the black strings forms one pure note-- trembling, falling as we rise, reach out, strain to hear the perfect sound that must be fading just above our heads" ... warren woessner
"many nights i stood on the bridge — and in the middle alone — lost — a defenseless prey to the surrounding swarming darkness — crushed by the mountainous black impenetrability of the skyscrapers — here and there lights resembling suspended falls of astral bodies or fantastic splendors of remote rites — shaken by the underground tumult of the trains in perpetual motion, like blood in the arteries—at times, ringing as alarm in a tempest, the shrill sulphurous voice of the trolley wires — now and then strange moanings of appeal from tugboats, guessed more than seen, through the infernal recesses below — i felt deeply moved, as if on the threshold of a new religion or in the presence of a new divinity" ... joseph stella
"on the brooklyn bridge he was cockeyed an’ stood on the edge there was a priest talkin’ to him i was shiftin’ myself around so i could see from all sides in an’ out of stretched necks an’ things cops held people back the lady in back of me burst into my groin 'sick sick some are so sick' like a circus trapeze act 'oh i hope he don’t do it' he was on the other side of the railin’ both eyes fiery wide wet with sweat the mouth of a shark rolled up soiled sleeves his arms were thick an’ tattooed an’ he wore a silver watch i could tell at a glance he was uselessly lonely i couldn’t stay an’ look at him i couldn’t stay an’ look at him because i suddenly realized that deep in my heart i really wanted t’ see him jump" ... bob dylan
"hey stella ... HEY STELLLLLL-AAAAAAAAA!" ... stanley kowalski
"JUMP" ... david lee roth
"stella?" ... al janik
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