Tag archive for "richard brautigan"

Poetry

Wednesday Poem of the Week: A Boat by Richard Brautigan

No Comments 11 February 2015

richard-brautigan

 

A Boat By Richard Brautigan
O beautiful
was the werewolf
in his evil forest.
We took him
to the carnival
and he started
crying
when he saw
the Ferris wheel.
Electric
green and red tears
flowed down
his furry cheeks.
He looked
like a boat
out on the dark
water.

Shades of Gray

M. Henault Remembers Richard Brautigan

No Comments 31 January 2013

I remember reading Trout Fishing in America for the first time.  I was doing a lot of hiking at the time and really felt like I was getting somewhere.  Inspired, I walked to a small fishing hole.  I used to hang out there as a boy, but I had never fished there.   I used to try to get girls to jump off the rocks naked, which they never did.  Anyway, I hiked to the bend in the river shortly after reading Brautigan for the first time.  I said, “Fuck you,” quietly to the water and walked home thinking about how I would create my own Kool-Aid reality. And I never stopped.
I dedicate these poems to all of the girls who wouldn’t jump in the river, especially the one I saw buying cover-up at our local pharmacy last week.
“15%”
She tries to get things out of men
that she can’t because she’s not
      15% prettier.
“Mating Saliva”
A girl in a green mini-
skirt, not very pretty, walks
       down the street.
A businessman stops, turns
to stare at her ass
that looks like a moldy
       refrigerator.
There are now 200,000,000 people
       in America.

Poetry

Wednesday Poem of the Week – Let’s Voyage Into The New American House by Richard Brautigan

No Comments 30 January 2013

To Celebrate the Anniversary of his birth The Shade presents one of our all time favorite Poets.

Let’s Voyage Into The New American House by Richard Brautigan

There are doors
that want to be free
from their hinges to
fly with perfect clouds.

There are windows
that want to be
released from their
frames to run with
the deer through
back country meadows.

There are walls
that want to prowl
with the mountains
through the early
morning dusk.

There are floors
that want to digest
their furniture into
flowers and trees.

There are roofs
that want to travel
gracefully with
the stars through
circles of darkness.

Poetry

Wednesday Poem of the Week: We Stopped at Perfect Days by Richard Brautigan

No Comments 21 November 2012

 

We Stopped at Perfect Days by Richard Brautigan

We stopped at perfect days
and got out of the car.
The wind glanced at her hair.
It was as simple as that.
I turned to say something–

 

A bonus Wednesday Poem of the Week for Thanksgiving

 

A Boat by Richard Brautigan

O beautiful
was the werewolf
in his evil forest.
We took him
to the carnival
and he started
crying
when he saw
the Ferris wheel.
Electric
green and red tears
flowed down
his furry cheeks.
He looked
like a boat
out on the dark
water.

Poetry, The Written Word

Happy Valentine’s From R. Brautigan

No Comments 14 February 2012

I feel horrible. She doesn’t

Love me and I wander around

The house like a sewing machine

That’s just finished sewing

A turd to a garbage can lid

Poetry

I Feel Horrible. She Doesn’t by Richard Brautigan

No Comments 31 January 2012

I feel horrible. She doesn’t
love me and I wander around
like a sewing machine
that’s just finished sewing
a turd to a garbage can lid.

Richard Brautigan

Features, National Obituary Review

Richard Brautigan’s Birthday….Today

No Comments 31 January 2012

There is a small office down at the end of the hall here at the NOR. Its reserved for times when staff members feel light, airy and generally full of a mixture of Pez and the American Spirit. We call it The Lighter Side.

From time to time The Lighter Side likes to deviate from celebrating all things final and recognize a birthday, anniversary or some other important event that you life lubbers typically get all hot and bothered about.

Well today is one of those days. Richard Brautigan is a perpetual staff pick here and often times keeps us tethered when we very much wish to become untethered. Very much so. SO, read some of his work and go where the crows go, and know what the crows know. Below is one of my favorites.

 

FIVE POEMS

“1 / The Curve of Forgotten Things”
Things slowly curve out of sight
until they are gone. Afterwards
only the curve
remains.

“2 / Fresh Paint”
Why is it when I walk past funeral parlors
they remind me of the smell of fresh paint
and I can feel the smell in my stomach?
It does not feel like food.

“3 / A Telescope, A Planetarium, A Firmament of Crows”
It is a very dark place
without stars,
and even when you arrive there
twenty minutes early,
. . . you are late.

“4 / The Shadow of Seven Years’ Bad Luck”
A face concocted from leftovers of other faces
needs a mirror put together from pieces of
broken mirrors.

“5 / Comet Telegram”
Two words:

Camelot
gone


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