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#richard brautigan
goffjames · 5 days ago
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Spotlight Poetry - Yes, the Fish Music - A poem by Richard Brautigan
Spotlight Poetry – Yes, the Fish Music – A poem by Richard Brautigan
© Éadaoin Glynn, The Music of the Wind and I am but a Feather in it Yes, the Fish Music by Richard Brautigan A trout-coloured wind blowsthrough my eyes, through my fingers,and I remember how the troutused to hide from the dinosaurswhen they came to drink at the river.The trout hid in subways, castles,and automobiles. They waited patiently for the dinosaurs to go away. Poem Attribution ©…
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antonio-gregorio · 8 days ago
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[...] his telephone bills sometimes ran two or three thousand dollars — he was known to have read entire books to people long distance.
Jay Boyer sobre Richard Brautigan.
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dirtyfilthy · 16 days ago
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Richard Brautigan Medley
I've Never Had It Done So Gently Before
The sweet juices of your mouth are like castles bathed in honey. I've never had it done so gently before. You have put a circle of castles around my penis and you swirl them like sunlight on the wings of birds
I feel horrible. She doesn't
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.
-2
Everybody wants to go to bed with everybody else, they're lined up for blocks, so I'll go to bed with you. They won't miss us.
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For someone so widely quoted, all his poetry books are out of print. I had to get them second hand on amazon.
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anamon-book · 17 days ago
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アメリカの鱒釣り リチャード・ブローティガン、藤本和子・訳 晶文社 ブックデザイン=平野甲賀
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upex-the-fangirl · 21 days ago
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I got to find the book "In Watermelon Sugar" by Richard Brautigan cuz it's not about what I thought it's about. It's a post-apocalyptic novel and from the description, it seems like it's really interesting.
In Watermelon Sugar
Set in the aftermath of a fallen civilization, it focuses on a commune organized around a central gathering house which is named "iDEATH". In this environment, many things are made of watermelon sugar (though the inhabitants also use pine wood and stone for building material and fuel made from trout oil). The landscape of the novel is constantly in flux; each day has a different colored sun which creates different colored watermelons, and the central building also changes frequently. The novel's narrator, who is left unnamed, claims to be writing an investigative book on his experience at iDEATH. Its first person narrative is sparse and minimalist , granting the novel a detached and alien quality.
-From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
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here-hit-this · 29 days ago
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We fell asleep in the forest
We laid down on dry moss and used our backpacks as pillows and our hoodies as blankets and slept for approximately two hours.
The canopy of the forest created humidity that crushed our bones.
When we got back to my truck we laid in the sun and you told me you had a bladder infection but you really wanted to hang out.
Last time we were supposed to hang out you got the flu and you said you didn't want to miss me while I was in town.
I gave you a ride to your doctor's office and you kissed me firmly on the lips.
I never saw you again.
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apoemaday · a month ago
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April 7, 1969
by Richard Brautigan
I feel so bad today that I want to write a poem. I don’t care: any poem, this poem.
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dreaminginthedeepsouth · a month ago
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Richard Brautigan April 7th 1969
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mindofdisquiet · 2 months ago
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we walked back to ideath, holding hands. Hands are very nice things, especially after they have travelled back from making love.
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apoemaday · 2 months ago
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All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace
by Richard Brautigan
I like to think (and the sooner the better!) of a cybernetic meadow where mammals and computers live together in mutually programming harmony like pure water touching clear sky.
I like to think (right now, please!) of a cybernetic forest filled with pines and electronics where deer stroll peacefully past computers as if they were flowers with spinning blossoms.
I like to think (it has to be!) of a cybernetic ecology where we are free of our labors and joined back to nature, returned to our mammal brothers and sisters, and all watched over by machines of loving grace.
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depressionisms · 2 months ago
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Richard Brautigan, I Live In The Twentieth Century
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wellconstructedsentences · 2 months ago
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It’s not quite cold enough
to go borrow some firewood
from the neighbors.
Widow’s Lament by Richard Brautigan
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apoemaday · 2 months ago
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It’s Raining in Love
by Richard Brautigan
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 examine, evaluate compute what I am saying. If I say, “Do you think it’s going to rain?” and she says, “I don’t know,” I start thinking: Does she really like me? In other words I get a little creepy. A friend of mine once said, “It’s twenty times better to be friends with someone than it is to be in love with them.” I think he’s right and besides, it’s raining somewhere, programming flowers and keeping snails happy. That’s all taken care of. BUT if a girl likes me a lot and starts getting real nervous and suddenly begins asking me funny questions and looks sad if I give the wrong answers and she says things like, “Do you think it’s going to rain?” and I say, “It beats me,” and she says, “Oh,” and looks a little sad at the clear blue California sky, I think: Thank God, it’s you, baby, this time instead of me.
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wished-bone · 2 months ago
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Star Hole
I sit here on the perfect end of a star, watching light pour itself toward     me. The light pours itself through a small hole in the sky. I'm not very happy, but I can see how things are     faraway.
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lupitovi · 2 months ago
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“Baudelaire était assis sous un porche avec poivrot des bas-fonds San Francisco. Le poivrot était âgé d'un million d'années et se souvenait des dinosaures. Baudelaire et le poivrot buvaient du Mascatel Petri. “Il faut toujours être ivre”, disait Baudelaire. “Je vis dans l'Hôtel américain” disait le poivrot. “Et je peux me rappeler les dinosaures.” “Enivrez-vous sans cesse” disait Baudelaire.
Richard Brautigan
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wished-bone · 2 months ago
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We Stopped at Perfect Days
We stopped at perfect days
and got out of the car.
The wind glanced at her hair.
It was as simple as that.
I turned to say something—
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doctorhotcoffee · 3 months ago
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ozanvesesler · 3 months ago
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"Ömrünüz boyunca tek bir şey düşünürsünüz. Bazı soruların yanıt gerektirmediğini bildiğiniz halde güneşin hiç tazeliği yoktur. Üstelik zaman ve yaşam pek çok sırrı içinde gizler. Kendinizi güçlü hissettiğinizde, rastlantıların yarattığı bu perdeyi açmak isteyebilirsiniz.
Geçmişinizle başbaşa kaldığınızda...”
Richard Brautigan // Yani Rüzgar Her Şeyi Alıp Götürmeyecek
Beat Kuşağı’nın en büyük yazarlarından biri olan Richard Brautigan 86 yaşında.
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