Richard Brautigan Poems

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 I don't care how God-damn smart
these guys are: I'm bored.

It's been raining like hell all day long
and there's nothing to do.

Written January 24, 1967
while poet-in-residence at
the California Institute of 
Technology....Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 I am standing in the cemetery at Byrds, Texas.
What did Judy say? "God-forsaken is beautiful, too."
A very old man who has cancer on his face and takes
care of the cemetery, is raking a grave in such a
manner as to almost (polish it like a piece of silver.

An old dog stands beside him. It's a hot day: 105.
What am I...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 Sometimes life is merely a matter of coffee and whatever intimacy a cup of coffee
affords. I once read something about coffee. The thing said that coffee is good for you;
it stimulates all the organs.
I thought at first this was a strange way to put it, and not altogether pleasant, but
as time goes by I have found out that it...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 Forget love 
I want to die 
in your yellow hair...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 The petals of the vagina unfold
like Christofer Columbus
taking off his shoes.

Is there anything more beautiful
than the bow of a ship
touching a new world?...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 A piece of green pepper
fell
off the wooden salad bowl:
so what?...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 I don't know what it is,
 but I distrust myself
 when I start to like a girl
 a lot.

 It makes me nervous.
 I don't say the right things
 or perhaps I start
 to examine,
 evaluate,
 compute
 what I am saying.

 If I say, "Do you think it's going to rain?"
 and she says, "I don't know,"
 I start...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 Less time than it takes to say it, less tears than it takes to die; I've taken account
of everything, there you have it. I've made a census of the stones, they are as numerous
as my fingers and some others; I've distributed some pamphelts to the plants, but not all
were willing to accpet them. I've kept company with music for...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 My clumsiest dear, whose hands shipwreck vases,
At whose quick touch all glasses chip and ring,
Whose palms are bulls in china, burs in linen,
And have no cunning with any soft thing

Except all ill-at-ease fidgeting people:
The refugee uncertain at the door
You make at home; deftly you steady
The drunk clambering on his undulant floor.

Unpredictable dear, the taxi drivers' terror,
Shrinking from far headlights...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 WITNESS FOR TROUT FISHING

 IN AMERICA PEACE

In San Francisco around Easter time last year, they had a

trout fishing in America peace parade. They had thousands

of red stickers printed and they pasted them on their small

foreign cars, and on means of national communication like

telephone poles.

 The stickers had WITNESS FOR TROUT FISHING IN AM-

ERICA PEACE printed on them.

 Then this...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 ANOTHER METHOD

 OF MAKING WALNUT CATSUP





And this is a very small cookbook for Trout Fishing in America

as if Trout Fishing in America were a rich gourmet and

Trout Fishing in America had Maria Callas for a girlfriend

and they ate together on a marble table with beautiful candles.



Compote of Apples



Take a dozen of golden pippins, pare them

nicely and take the core...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 SEA, SEA RIDER


The man who owned the bookstore was not magic. He was not a

three-legged crow on the dandelion side of the mountain.

 He was, of course, a Jew, a retired merchant seaman

who had been torpedoed in the North Atlantic and floated

there day after day until death did not want him. He had a

young wife, a heart attack, a...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 THE AUTOPSY OF

 TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA



This is the autopsy of Trout Fishing in America as if Trout

Fishing in America had been Lord Byron and had died in

Missolonghi, Greece, and afterward never saw the shores

of Idaho again, never saw Carrie Creek, Worsewick Hot

Springs, Paradise Creek, Salt Creek and Duck Lake again.

The Autopsy of Trout Fishing in America:

 "The body...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 WORSEWICK







Worsewick Hot Springs was nothing fancy. Somebody put some

boards across the creek. That was it.

 The boards dammed up the creek enough to form a huge

bathtub there, and the creek flowed over the top of the boards,

invited like a postcard to the ocean a thousand miles away.

As I said Worsewick was nothing fancy, not like the

places where the swells...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 THE HUNCHBACK TROUT





The creek was made narrow by little green trees that grew

too close together. The creek was like 12, 845 telephone

booths in a row with high Victorian ceilings and all the doors

taken off and all the backs of the booths knocked out.

 Sometimes when I went fishing in there, I felt just like a

telephone repairman, even though I...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 THE PUDDING MASTER OF



 STANLEY BASIN





Tree, snow and rock beginnings, the mountain in back of the

lake promised us eternity, but the lake itself was filled with

thousands of silly minnows, swimming close to the shore

and busy putting in hours of Mack Sennett time.

 The minnows were an Idaho tourist attraction. They

should have been made into a National Monument. Swimming

close to...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 A RETURN TO THE COVER OF

 THIS BOOK



Dear Trout Fishing in America:



 I met your friend Fritz in Washington Square. He told me

to tell you that his case went to a jury and that he was acquit-

ted by the jury.

 He said that it was important for me to say that his case

went to a jury and that he...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 SANDBOX MINUS JOHN

 DILLINGER EQUALS WHAT?





Often I return to the cover of Trout Fishing in America. I

took the baby and went down there this morning. They were

watering the cover with big revolving sprinklers. I saw some

bread lying on the grass. It had been put there to feed the

pigeons.

 The old Italians are always doing things like that. The

bread had...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 I go to bed in Los Angeles thinking
about you.

Pissing a few moments ago
I looked down at my *****
affectionately.

Knowing it has been inside
you twice today makes me
feel beautiful.

3 A.M.
January 15, 1967...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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 a novel by Richard Brautigan


 THE COVER FOR

 TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA



The cover for Trout Fishing in America is a photograph taken

late in the afternoon, a photograph of the Benjamin Franklin

statue in San Francisco's Washington Square.

Born 1706--Died 1790, Benjamin Franklin stands on a

 pedestal that looks like a house containing stone furniture.

 He holds some papers in one hand...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard

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