December 30 by Richard Brautigan At 1:30 in the morning a fart smells like a marriage between an avocado and a fish head. I have to get out of bed to write this down without
Private Eye Lettuce by Richard Brautigan Three crates of Private Eye Lett the name and drawing of a detectiv with magnifying glass on the sides of the crates of lettuce, form a great cross in man’s imagin
Yes, the Fish Music by Richard Brautigan A trout-colored wind blows through my eyes, through my finger and I remember how the trout used to hide from the dinosaurs when they came to drink at the riv
Part 4 of Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan THE AUTOPSY OF This is the autopsy of Trout Fish Fishing in America had been Lord Missolonghi, Greece, and afterwar of Idaho again, never saw Carrie
The Moon Versus Us Ever Sleeping Together Again by Richard Brautigan I sit here, an arch-villain of rom thinking about you. Gee, I’m sorr I made you unhappy, but there was I could do about it because I hav Perhaps everything would have been
Poker Star by Richard Brautigan It’s a star that looks like a poker game above the mountains of eastern Oregon. There are three men playing.
Romeo and Juliet by Richard Brautigan If you will die for me, I will die for you and our graves will be like two lo their clothes together in a laundromat
Part 3 of Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan SEA, SEA RIDER The man who owned the bookstore wa three-legged crow on the dandelion He was, of course, a Jew, a retir who had been torpedoed in the Nort