#AmericanWriters
THE PUDDING MASTER OF STANLEY BASIN Tree, snow and rock beginnings, th… lake promised us eternity, but the… thousands of silly minnows, swimmi…
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…
I walked across the park to the fe… It was in the center of a glass sq… by red flowers and fountains. The… was in the shape of a sea horse an… We got hot and died.
I like to think (and the sooner the better!) of a cybernetic meadow where mammals and computers live together in mutually
There are doors that want to be free from their hinges to fly with perfect clouds. There are windows
For Marcia
Oh, Marcia, I want your long blonde beauty to be taught in high school, so kids will learn that God lives like music in the skin
It’s so nice to wake up in the morning all alone and not have to tell somebody you love them
If I were to live my life in catfish forms in scaffolds of skin and whiskers at the bottom of a pond and you were to come by
It seemed like years before I picked a bouquet
There are no postage stamps that s… back to England three centuries ag… no postage stamps that make letter… travel back until the grave hasn’t… and John Donne stands looking out…
Ah, you’re just a copy of all the candy bars I’ve ever eaten.
A piece of green pepper fell off the wooden salad bowl: so what?
This poem was found written on a p… Brautigan in a laundromat in San…
Forget love I want to die in your yellow hair