Richard Brautigan

My favorite poet.
I forgot how much I liked his writing, and I've been trying to find some of my old favorites to share here. Brautigan re-entered my life recently because of my new Kindle. Yep, I splurged and bought a Kindle. I love it!
Being cheap, er 'frugal', I haven't been 'buying' much for it. What I have done is download some of the old classics, and other non-copyrighted books. I just finished Jack London's 'The Call of the Wild', and I've read some of Dumas' 'The Count of Monte Cristo'. Just sort of meandering and exploring right now. 'Tales of Chinatown' by Sax Rohmer has been a good read too, but I'm only a quarter of the way through.
What I've also done is to search the internet for favorite authors, etc, and I've found all kinds of good stuff that I can copy and paste into 'Notepad'. I can then copy it to the Kindle.
I'm reading again, and it feels good. Other than the news and sports, and a few other things, I usually see the TV as the Enemy. Something that fills in time when I don't want to do anything else. A lot of mind-less stuff. I'm reading again.
The Kindle, by the way, is super comfortable, and reading with it is everything they've advertised.

Here are a few Richard Brautigan poems I found, not really my favorites, but very much Brautigan...

"Alas, Measured Perfectly"
Saturday, August 25, 1888. 5:20 P.M.
is the name of a photograph of two
old women in a front yard, beside
a white house. One of the women is
sitting in a chair with a dog in her
lap. The other woman is looking at
some flowers. Perhaps the women are
happy, but then it is Saturday, August
25, 1888. 5:21 P.M., and all over.

"Automatic Anthole"
Driven by hunger, I had another
forced bachelor dinner tonight.
I had a lot of trouble making
up my mind whether to eat Chinese
food or have a hamburger. God,
I hate eating dinner alone. It's
like being dead.

"The Pill versus The Springhill Mine Disaster"
When you take your pill
it's like a mine disaster.
I think of all the people
lost inside of you.

"The Garlic Meat Lady from"
We're cooking dinner tonight.
I'm making a kind of Stonehenge
stroganoff.
Marcia is helping me. You
already know the legend
of her beauty.
I've asked her to rub garlic
on the meat. She takes
each piece of meat like a lover
and rubs it gently with garlic.
I've never seen anything like this
before. Every orifice
of the meat is explored, caressed
relentlessly with garlic.
There is a passion here that would
drive a deaf saint to learn
the violin and play Beethoven at
Stonehenge.

"December 30"
At 1:03 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
my glasses on.