Love Poem

It's so nice
to wake up in the morning
all alone
and not have to tell somebody
you love them
when you don't love them
any more.

poem by Richard Brautigan
Added by Dan Costinaş
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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 ached in the metal silence
of her dreams.

poem by Richard Brautigan
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Color As Beginning

Forget love
I want to die
in your yellow
hair.

poem by Richard Brautigan
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Your Catfish Friend

If I were to live my life
in catfish forms
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
at the bottom of a pond
and you were to come by
one evening
when the moon was shining
down into my dark home
and stand there at the edge
of my affection
and think, "It's beautiful
here by this pond.I wish
somebody loved me,"
I'd love you and be your catfish
friend and drive such lonely
thoughts from your mind
and suddenly you would be
at peace,
and ask yourself, "I wonder
if there are any catfish

[...] Read more

poem by Richard Brautigan
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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 seaman

who had been torpedoed in the North Atlantic and floated

there day after day until death did not want him. He had a

young wife, a heart attack, a Volkswagen and a home in

Marin County. He liked the works of George Orwell, Richard

Aldington and Edmund Wilson.

He learned about life at sixteen, first from Dostoevsky

[...] Read more

poem by Richard Brautigan
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Cat

We lay in the bed one sunny evening after making love
and decide to name our first girl Cat, we were going
to name her Cat, but now we have departed forever from our
love-making, and we do not have a little girl, nor any
children at all, and I am doomed to become the poet
in your dreams who falls continually like the evening rain.

poem by Richard Brautigan
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Just Because

Just because
people love your mind,
doesn't mean they
have to have
your body,
too.

poem by Richard Brautigan
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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.

poem by Richard Brautigan
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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.

poem by Richard Brautigan
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The Wait

It seemed
like years
before
I picked
a bouquet
of kisses
off her mouth
and put them
into a dawn-colored vase
in
my
heart.

But
the wait
was worth it.

Because
I
was

[...] Read more

poem by Richard Brautigan
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The Galilee Hitch-Hiker

The Galilee Hitch-Hiker
Part 1

Baudelaire was
driving a Model A
across Galilee.
He picked up a
hitch-hiker named
Jesus who had
been standing among
a school of fish,
feeding them
pieces of bread.
'Where are you
going?' asked
Jesus, getting
into the front
seat.
'Anywhere, anywhere
out of this world!'

[...] Read more

poem by Richard Brautigan
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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 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.

[...] Read more

poem by Richard Brautigan
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Coffee

Sometimes life is merely a matter of coffee and whatever intimacy a cup of coffee
affords. I once read something about coffee. The thing said that coffee is good for you;
it stimulates all the organs.
I thought at first this was a strange way to put it, and not altogether pleasant, but
as time goes by I have found out that it makes sense in its own limited way. I'll tell you
what I mean.
Yesterday morning I went over to see a girl. I like her. Whatever we had going for us
is gone now. She does not care for me. I blew it and wish I hadn't.
I rang the door bell and waited on the stairs. I could hear her moving around upstairs.
The way she moved I could tell that she was getting up. I had awakened her.
Then she came down the stairs. I could feel her approach in my stomach. Every step she
took stirred my feelings and lead indirectly to her opening the door. She saw me and it
did not please her.
Once upon a time it pleased her very much, last week. I wonder where it went,
pretending to be naive.
"I feel strange now," she said. "I don't want to talk."
"I want a cup of coffee," I said, because it was the last thing in the world
that I wanted. I said it in such a way that it sounded as if I were reading her a telegram
from somebody else, a person who really wanted a cup of coffee, who cared about nothing
else.

[...] Read more

poem by Richard Brautigan from Revenge of the Lawn (1971)
Added by Dan Costinaş
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