Richard Brautigan Poems
Comments about Richard Brautigan
It's so nice
to wake up in the morning
and not have to tell somebody
you love them
when you don't love them
Yes, The Fish Music
A trout-colored wind blows
through my eyes, through my fingers,
and I remember how the trout
used to hide from the dinosaurs
when they came to drink at the river.
The trout hid in subways, castles,
and automobiles. They waited patiently for the dinosaurs to go away.