San Francisco
This poem was found written on a paper bag by Richard
Brautigan in a laundromat in San Francisco. The author is unknown.
poem by Richard Brautigan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
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.
poem by Richard Brautigan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Donner Party
Forsaken, fucking in the cold,
eating each other, lost
runny noses,
complaining all the time
like so many
people
that we know
poem by Richard Brautigan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
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
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Spanish | In Romanian
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
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
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--
poem by Richard Brautigan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Japan Minus Frogs
For Guy de la Valdène
Looking casually
through my English–Japanese dictionary
I can't find the word frog.
It's not there.
Does that mean that Japan has no frogs?
poem by Richard Brautigan (4 June 1976)
Added by Dan Costinaş
1 comment - Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Spanish | In Romanian
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
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
30 Cents, Two Transfers, Love
Thinking hard about you
I got onto the bus
and paid 30 cents car fare
and asked the driver for
two transfers
before discovering that I
was alone.
poem by Richard Brautigan
Added by Dan Costinaş
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Spanish | In Romanian
Oranges
Oh, how perfect death
computes an orange wind
that glows from your footsteps,
and you stop to die in
an orchard where the harvest
fills the stars.
poem by Richard Brautigan
Added by Dan Costinaş
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Spanish | In Romanian