For some reason they have left off possibly my favorite Brautigan poem:
I Cannot Answer You Tonight in Small Portions
I cannot answer you tonight in small portions.
Torn apart by stormy loves gate, I float
like a phantom facedown in a well where
the cold dark water reflects vague half-built
and trades all our affection, touching, sleeping
together for tribunal distance standing like
a drowned train just beyond a pile of Eskimo
From 'The Pill v. the Springhill Mine Disaster.'
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.