Richard Brautigan

Richard Brautigan

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Richard Gary Brautigan (January 30, 1935 – ca. September 16, 1984) was an American novelist, poet, and short story writer. His work often clinically and surrealistically employs black comedy, parody, and satire, with emotionally blunt prose describing pastoral American life intertwining with technological progress.
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Nine Things

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It's nightand a numbered beautylapses at the wind,chortles with the branches of a tree,  giggles,plays shadow dancewith a dead kite,cajoles affectionfrom falling leaves,and knows four other things
One is the colorof your hair
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Hinged To Forgetfulness Like A Door

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Hinged to forgetfulness like a door, she slowly closed out of sight, and she was the woman I loved, but too many times she slept like a mechanical deer in my caresses, and I ached in the metal silence of her dreams
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Part 10 of Trout Fishing in America

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SS
OR
UT
NG         IN
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The Fever Monument

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I walked across the park to the fever monument
It was in the center of a glass square surrounded by red flowers and fountains
The monument was in the shape of a sea horse and the plaque
We got hot and died
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Ive Never Had It Done So Gently Before

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The sweet juices of your mouthare like castles bathed in honey
I've never had it done so gently before
You have put a circle of castlesaround my penis and you swirl themlike sunlight on the wings of birds
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Discovery

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The petals of the vagina unfoldlike Christopher Columbustaking off his shoes
Is there anything more beautifulthan the bow of a shiptouching a new world
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Donner Party

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Forsaken, fucking in the cold, eating each other, lost runny noses, complaining all the time like so many people that we know
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All Watched Over By Machines Of Loving Grace

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I like to think (andthe sooner the better
)of a cybernetic meadowwhere mammals and computerslive together in mutuallyprogramming harmonylike pure watertouching clear sky
I like to think(right now, please
)of a cybernetic forestfille...
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December 30

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At 1:30 in the morning a fart smells like a marriage betweenan avocado and a fish head
I have to get out of bedto write this down withoutmy glasses on
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Part 6 of Trout Fishing in America

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HE
CK
The creek was made narrow by little green trees that grewtoo close together
The creek was like 12, 845 telephonebooths in a row with high Victorian ceilings and all the doorstaken off and all the backs of the booths knocked out
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Xerox Candy Bar

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Ah,you're just a copyof all the candy barsI've ever eaten
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Its Raining In Love

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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 go...
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I Feel Horrible She Doesnt

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I feel horrible
She doesn't love me and I wander aroundlike a sewing machinethat's just finished sewinga turd to a garbage can lid
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To England

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There are no postage stamps that send lettersback to England three centuries ago,no postage stamps that make letterstravel back until the grave hasn't been dug yet,and John Donne stands looking out the window,it is just beginning to rain this Apri...
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The Galilee Hitch-Hiker

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The Galilee
Part
Baudelaire wasdriving a Model Aacross Galilee
He picked up ahitch-hiker
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