Rick Lupert had a Laundromat period in his poetry which should be an inspiration to all writers. In these fifty nine stanzas covering at least four separate loads of wash over a period of about a month, all the wrinkles of this nether world are subjected to a playful “What if?” Candid observations about what Rick saw, heard and felt prior to, during, and after the rinse cycle are transformed under the magic of his pen into a slice of life, a gothic universe, a seemingly inexhaustible supply of philosophy and metaphor. Each garment, each spin of the dryer stands in a curious and absurd relationship to all the others. The whole place comes alive with warmth, wit and humor in Rick’s poetic imagination. The logic of putting laundry in garbage bags is carried to its implied conclusion. This is all new poetry, written on the cuff, so to speak. We would not want to condemn Rick to be wed to the Speed Queen, but his relationship with her has stood him in good stead poetically.
Poetry from Lizard King of the Laundromat
There are laundry machines from
different eras here.
Some are post modern like
William Gibson wrote them.
Some are from the seventies with
colors out of Van Nuys Boulevard, and
Some are from the eighteen-hundreds
made out of solid gold.
I am paranoid that
I didn’t load my clothes loosely enough.
A Family of nineteen midgets
lives in the dryers after hours.
That’s why they close at eleven.
So those midgets can get some shut eye.
I see a Teddy Bear tumbling
at the High Temperature setting.
Oh the humanity.
How to fold:
1) put ends together
You have just folded.