Richard Brautigan
My Nose Is Growing Old
Yup. A long lazy September look In the mirror Say it’s true. I’m 31 And my nose is growing Old. It starts about 1/2 An inch Below the bridge And strolls geriatrically Down For
It's Raining In Love
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
Part 2 of Trout Fishing in America
ANOTHER METHOD OF MAKING WALNUT CATSUP And this is a very small cookbook for Trout Fishing in America As if Trout Fishing in America were a rich gourmet and Trout Fishing in America had
Discovery
The petals of the vagina unfold Like Christofer Columbus Taking off his shoes. Is there anything more beautiful Than the bow of a ship Touching a new world?
At the California Institute of Technology
I don’t care how God-damn smart These guys are: I’m bored. It’s been raining like hell all day long And there’s nothing to do. Written January 24, 1967 While poet-in-residence at The California Institute
Part 8 of Trout Fishing in America
A RETURN TO THE COVER OF THIS BOOK Dear Trout Fishing in America: I met your friend Fritz in Washington Square. He told me To tell you that his case went to a jury
Part 10 of Trout Fishing in America
WITNESS FOR TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA PEACE In San Francisco around Easter time last year, they had a Trout fishing in America peace parade. They had thousands Of red stickers printed and they pasted
I Live In The Twentieth Century
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 about It. I felt hopeless. Your face Is so
Part 5 of Trout Fishing in America
WORSEWICK Worsewick Hot Springs was nothing fancy. Somebody put some Boards across the creek. That was it. The boards dammed up the creek enough to form a huge Bathtub there, and the creek flowed
The Shenevertakesherwatchoff Poem
For Marcia Because you always have a clock Strapped to your body, it’s natural That I should think of you as the Correct time: With your long blonde hair at 8:03, And your pulse-lightning
Hinged To Forgetfulness Like A Door
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
Deer Tracks
Beautiful, sobbing High-geared fucking And then to lie silently Like deer tracks in the Freshly-fallen snow beside The one you love. That’s all.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY (POLISH IT LIKE A PIECE OF SILVER)
I am standing in the cemetery at Byrds, Texas. What did Judy say? “God-forsaken is beautiful, too.” A very old man who has cancer on his face and takes Care of the cemetery, is
Part 7 of Trout Fishing in America
THE PUDDING MASTER OF STANLEY BASIN Tree, snow and rock beginnings, the mountain in back of the Lake promised us eternity, but the lake itself was filled with Thousands of silly minnows, swimming close
Part 3 of Trout Fishing in America
SEA, SEA RIDER The man who owned the bookstore was not magic. He was not a Three-legged crow on the dandelion side of the mountain. He was, of course, a Jew, a retired merchant