I Feel Horrible. She Doesn’t by Richard Brautigan 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. 1
Boo, Forever by Richard Brautigan Spinning like a ghost on the bottom of a top, I’m haunted by all the space that I
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
30 Cents, Two Transfers, Love by Richard Brautigan Thinking hard about you I got on the bus and paid 30 cents car fare and asked the driver for two trans before discovering
Part 1 of Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan THE COVER FOR The cover for Trout Fishing in A late in the afternoon, a photograp statue in San Francisco’s Washing Born 1706—Died 1790, Benjamin Fr
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
I Live in the Twentieth Century by Richard Brautigan I live in the Twentieth Century and you lie here beside me. You were unhappy when you fell asleep. There was nothing I could do abou it. I felt hopeless. Your face
Tournesol by Richard Brautigan La voyageuse qui traverse les Hal Marchait sur la pointe des pieds Le désespoir roulait au ciel ses g Et dans le sac à main il y avait Que seule a respiré la marraine de