35 poems for 35W

Updated: August 2, 2012 - 3:25 PM

St. Paul poet Todd Boss crossed the Interstate 35W bridge without a thought 20 minutes before it collapsed on Aug. 1, 2007. He’s been thinking about it ever since. To honor the 13 killed five years ago, and to mark what he has called “a huge civic tragedy,” Boss has written a series of 35 poems, called “Fragments for the 35W Bridge.” The poems are part of an installation at the Stone Arch Bridge in Minneapolis and an audio composition by European artist Maja Spasova.

Click here or on the image below to hear the 35 poems read by everyday Minnesotans, along with photos from the tragedy. Or scroll below the image to read the poems yourself. (Click on the arrows to navigate from one poem to the next.)

Related content:
Write your own poem for the bridge. (We'll put selections online and in print.)
Readers' poems span the divide.
More about the Mississippi River installation.
Making of the project.

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1

Monday July 30, 2012

1

The
river
enters
the
gulf
and
the
gulf
enters
the
sea
etcetera
like
the
blood
of
gods…
every
water
the
same
water
coming
round…
everyday
someone
staring
into
time
whispering
mistakenly:
only
here…
only
now…
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2

Monday July 30, 2012

2

My
cousin
called
from
across
town
the
hour
the
bridge
went
down.
Are
you
okay?
Fine,
fine,
I
said.
Good-bye,
Good-bye.
The
call
went
dead.
But
I
love
my
cousin.
So
I
held
the
line.
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3

Monday July 30, 2012

3

Minnesota’s
fifth
busiest,
freighting
140,000
vehicles
daily,
“Bridge
9340”
carried
eight
lanes
of
Interstate
Highway
35W
.3
miles
along
14
spans
115
feet
above
Mississippi
River
Mile
853
till
it
fell,
injuring
145,
killing
thirteen.
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4

Monday July 30, 2012

4

And
where
had
they
been
going,
those
thirteen
gone?
- Dinner
with
a
friend.
- Bakery
customers
all
over
town.
- Greek
folk
dancing
lessons
beneath
Saint
Mary’s
Greek
Orthodox
dome.
- Home.
- Home.
- Home.
- Home.
- Home.
- Home.
- Home.
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5

Monday July 30, 2012

5

O
set
a
man
to
watch
all
night,
watch
all
night,
watch
all
night.
Set
a
man
to
watch
all
night,
my
fair
lady.
And
if
the
man
should
fall
asleep,
fall
asleep,
fall
asleep…?
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6

Monday July 30, 2012

6

“Pride
of
Minneapolis,”
the
mills --
where
the
great
1878
flour-dust
explosion
leveled
neighborhoods,
killed
eighteen,
and
shook
surrounding
hills --
look
on
from
either
shore,
vacantly,
like
veterans
unable
or
unwilling
to
suffer
senseless
suffering
anymore.
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7

Monday July 30, 2012

7

Twenty
minutes
was
the
spell
between
my
crossing
and
when
it
fell.
Twenty
minutes
ordering
files.
Twenty
minutes
buying
meat.
Twenty
choices,
street
to
street.
To
beat
survival’s
twenty
questions
“twenty
minutes”
doesn’t
answer
well.
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8

Monday July 30, 2012

8

Innate,
isn’t
it --
this
instinct
to
toss
some
speck
into
water,
to
mark
with
sprig
or
twig
that
ever
shifting
glass,
to
sprinkle
pulled
grass,
to
petal
it…
as
if
we
might
somehow
settle
it?
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9

Monday July 30, 2012

9

Disaster
reaches
in
our
direction,
and
we
reach
back
with
our
endless
questions.
Child
becomes
master;
master
child.
A
bridge
is
formed
of
these
reachings,
between
our
thirst
for
answers
and
the
world’s
wild
teachings.
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10

Monday July 30, 2012

10

Each
one
as
sturdy
as
the
last,
come
scores
of
prayers
like
rescue
rings.
What
gods
did
guide
those
bouyant
things?
And
why’d
some
take
up
living
weight
and
others
come
for
some
too
late?
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11

Monday July 30, 2012

11

By
7
o’clock
it’s
clear
who
can
be
saved
and
who
is
gone
by
who
is
found
amid
the
half
sunk
wrecks
and
suck
pocked
rocks,
and
by
whose
lucks,
like
fickle
flocks,
are
flown.
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12

Monday July 30, 2012

12

Thunder
Woman
was
her
Indian
name.
Just
months
since
Julia
died
that
day,
the
Blackhawks
had
given
all
their
photographs
of
her
away.
Looking
back
would
only
prolong
her
journey
to
the
ancestors,
they
say.
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13

Monday July 30, 2012

13

These
sacred
haha
(Dakota
for
falls) —
called
mnyomni
and
mnirara —
harbored
Oanktehi,
god
of
evil,
whose
laughter
mocked
hunting
parties
who
were
forced
to
run
their
boats
aground
and
portage
around,
upon
hearing
the
sound.
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14

Monday July 30, 2012

14

Anything
can
happen
anytime,
you
know.
Nobody
expects
you
to
like
it,
though.
Any
minute,
the
river
of
your
life
might
drain
through
a
pinhole
burst
among
the
vessels
of
your
brain
(.)
just
so.
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15

Monday July 30, 2012

15

San
Francisco,
1997 —
A
girl
of
two
(toddling
hand
in
hand
between
mom
and
dad)
slips
through
a
nine
inch
gap
and
drops
to
the
glittering
Bay…
And
surely
they
grasp
after
her
still
today…
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16

Monday July 30, 2012

16

Not
water
but
air’s
where
the
fallen
fall
first.
Not
landing,
but
numbing
to
the
fact
that
landing
is
coming,
is
the
worst
part
of
falling.
Not
losing
a
loved
one
but
calling
and
calling.
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17

Monday July 30, 2012

17

Among
mankind’s
universal
scares:
nightmares
of
falling.
Which
of
us
hasn’t
thrashed
awake,
grasping?
If
some
inspector
said
your
bed
might
buckle
and
drop
you
through
floorboards
downstairs,
how
long
would
you
hold
up
repairs?
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18

Monday July 30, 2012

18

Diverted
temporarily,
Minneapolis
commutes
differently,
adds
lanes
narrowly,
uses
secondary
routes
primarily,
remembers
there’s
a
stream
beneath
the
grid
somewhere
down
there
(but
a
dream)
— then
goes
on
its
way
again.
Warily,
warily,
warily,
warily.
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19

Monday July 30, 2012

19

One
bridge
fails
and
they
all
feel
faulty.
The
Washington
and
the
Franklin
of
decline
too
are
guilty.
One
can’t
help
speculating:
Which
one’s
next?
And
the
map
of
the
city
proves
an
ominous
text.
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20

Monday July 30, 2012

20

A
worn
gusset
plate.
A
few
cruddy
bolts.
A
single
lousy
joint.
What
a
stealthy
terrorist
Time
is.
Her
work
never
through,
she
spiders
forth
her
spool
of
rust
and
with
it
re-threads
every
screw.
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21

Monday July 30, 2012

21

Once
we
were
Brooklyn
Bridge
sore.
Now
we
lay
rebar
and
pour.
Me,
I
have
Whitman
and
Frost.
And
you?
From
what
lone
mossed
megalith
of
stone
have
you
come
so
far
to
be
lost?
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22

Monday July 30, 2012

22

Alaskan
awhile,
I’ll
forever
remember
pulling
myself
to
McCarthy
in
cabled
handcart
over
glacial
roar
from
shore
to
shore,
that
tin
trap
less
car
than
lift
chair,
the
cable
less
cable
than
schism
of
air.
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23

Monday July 30, 2012

23

Public
works
projects
first
are
budget
columns,
task
lists,
strings
of
surveyors’
coordinates,
stacks
of
transcriptions,
job
descriptions,
materials
requisitions,
sludge
laden
dump
trucks
doing
the
ancient
tribal
dance
of
army,
sugar
or
carpenter
ants.
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24

Monday July 30, 2012

24

Poetry
rarely
commands
the
respect
afforded
the
sciences,
but
engineering
is
a
science
and
at
least
I
can
say
no
badly
aging
load
bearing
metaphor
of
mine
ever
imploded
during
rush
hour
and
killed
anyone.
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25

Monday July 30, 2012

25

Earth’s
third
longest
suspension
span,
the
Tacoma
Narrows
Bridge,
(“Galloping
Gertie”),
its
wind
wrangled
ribbon
finally
littering
Puget
Sound,
tested
all
mankind’s
engineering
beliefs
and
now
lies
rested,
one
of
the
world’s
largest
man-made
reefs.
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26

Monday July 30, 2012

26

Stand
aboard
a
ship
and
look
upward
as
it
passes
under
the
grand
Quebec
span:
The
boat
seems
moored.
You’d
swear
it
was
the
bridge,
like
some
barred
bird
overhead,
that
sped
toward,
then
fled.
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27

Monday July 30, 2012

27

In
private
rituals
written
by
Rudyard
Kipling,
Canadian
engineers
receive
iron
rings
rumored
forged
from
the
1907
midsection
of
the
Quebec
Bridge
which,
when
it
fell,
united
75
workmen
with
the
Saint
Lawrence
River
forever.
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28

Monday July 30, 2012

28

The
ring,
sized
for
the
pinky
finger
of
your
dominant
hand,
is
designed
to
remind
you
of
your
duty
to
your
fellow
man
by
dragging
its
hammered
edge
across
every
draft
of
your
every
plan.
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29

Monday July 30, 2012

29

High
above
barges’
wedges,
bridges
trough
across
rivers’
edges
louder
rivers
of
drivers
while
between
one’s
girders
and
the
others’
boulders
the
birds
spirit
forth
with
a
swifter
force
along
a
third
more
fluid
course.
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30

Monday July 30, 2012

30

The
new
bridge
is
glib.
Riding
its
broad
rib
feels
like
a
snub.
The
going’s
too
good.
Lit
blue
at
night,
it
might
be
modern
art:
It
makes
a
point
but
it’s
got
no
heart.
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31

Monday July 30, 2012

31

What
if
metaphor —
stressed
connector —
erector
of
synapse
linking
shores
together —
is
the
mother
of
collapse?
Maybe
truth
is
the
province
of
gaps.
What
if
it’s
simply
our
propensity
to
order
disorder
that
inevitably
snaps?
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32

Monday July 30, 2012

32

Crossing,
like
reading,
suspends
us
beginning
to
end.
We
must
trust
rusting
trusses
and
rumble
over
concrete
and
abstract
constructions,
mindful
of
hidden
stresses
that
flash
past
fast,
first
to
last —
a
slip
of
fishes.
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33

Monday July 30, 2012

33

Catching
something
sunken,
the
black
river
flings
back
one
white
wave
riding
forever,
neither
gaining
nor
losing —
a
bird’s
lost
breast
feathers,
a
wrinkled
white
kerchief —
the
black
stream
seeming
blacker
against
the
shoreline
birches.
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34

Monday July 30, 2012

34

Some
say
that
to
the
gods
we
are
like
the
flies
boys
kill
on
a
summer’s
day.
Some
say
the
very
sparrows
do
not
lose
a
feather
that
the
finger
of
God
didn’t
brush
away.
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35

Monday July 30, 2012

35

By
singing
of
beginnings
the
great
folk
hymn
ends:
When
we’ve
been
here
ten
thousand
years
bright
shining
as
the
sun,
we’ve
no
less
days
to
sing
God’s
praise
than
when
we’ve
first
begun.
Amen.
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_Credits:_{Five of Todd Boss’ poems are included in his collection “Pitch” (W. W. Norton, 2012). They are reprinted here by permission of W. W. Norton & Co. “Catching something sunken…” paraphrases a stanza of Frost’s “West-Running Brook.” “The river enters the gulf…” paraphrases Lucille Clifton’s “The Mississippi River Enters into the Gulf.” “O, set a man to watch all night” is a verse from the traditional song, “London Bridge Is Falling Down.” “Some say … brushed away” paraphrases the last paragraph Chapter 1 of Thornton Wilder’s novel “The Bridge of San Luis Rey.” “When we’ve been here ten thousand years…” is the last verse of “Amazing Grace.”}

_{A message from the artists:}_{Todd Boss and Maja Spasova wish to thank the many people who came to record their voices and tell their stories at the Central Library for this project in May. We are also deeply grateful to the Star Tribune and Friends of the Hennepin County Library, as well as those who sponsored our project with donated materials and resources: Countrywide Tire and Rubber, Plasti Dip International, Aero Assemblies, Ace Midwest Moving and Storage, and the Swedish Embassy, Washington, D.C.}