Saturday, February 21, 2009

Aimless Reading: The B's, Part 41.2 (William Bronk)

Bronk, William
Metaphor of Trees and Last Poems

Last thoughts on William Bronk.


I remember we were living in our last house, the one we sold last year, when I bought these books, so it was probably two years ago. We had just purchased a set of three pieces of mid-century modern furniture for our dining room. I had been walking past The Stock Exchange on Hertel Avenue in North Buffalo when I saw this beautiful dining room set in the window. There were three pieces -- buffet, mini-buffet, and I don't know what to call the other -- something between a dresser, a hutch and a china cabinet. All three had very stylish louvered doors, kind of like half-tilted venetian blinds. I called Lori and told her to stop by there on her way to work and if she liked them to buy them and put them in her truck. Turned out she knew the owner, and got all three pieces for some ridiculously low price-- 400 dollars or something like that. She brought them back to our house, where we installed the two buffets in the dining room and placed the other piece in the guest bedroom as a sort of dresser (at our apartment in between homes, we used this piece in the kitchen to store coffee, tea, cereal, tupperware, and various other kitchen items. We also covered the top with contact paper and sat the Super-Automatic Espresso machine on top. This wasn't such a good idea, as it started leaking, at first a little, then all the time, and the water took the finish off certain parts of it. It now sits in the guest room upstairs at our new house, slightly stained. At the old house, I always had piles of books on the end tables in the living room, on the night tables in the bedroom, etc. Lori started stacking these on the buffet in the dining room which looked really nice and removed some of the clutter from our lives, at least until the end tables and night tables filled up again. It was around this time that I bought the William Bronk books, which almost immediately became part of the decorative piles on the buffet in the dining room, where they remained until they were put into boxes last winter in anticipation of the move.


Reality isn't real. why do we look?
We look because the real is the shape of desire:
that the world be real and we a person in it.
We believe our beliefs to pretend that that should be
or abide a worlds whose reality isn't real.

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