Category Archives for Poems from 196x, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brauti
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (sixteenth in a series)
TweetThe Fever Monument 6′ Submarine Sandwich Monument I walked across the park to the fever monument. I walked across the park to the 6′ submarine sandwich monument. It was in the center of a glass square surrounded by red flowers … Continue reading
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (fifteenth in a series)
TweetThe Quail There are three 911 quail in a cage next door and they are the sweet delight of our mornings, calling to us like small frosted cakes: bobwhitebobwhitebobwhite, but at night they drive our God-damn cat Jake but at … Continue reading
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (fourteenth in a series)
TweetWidow’s Michael Moore’s Lament It’s not quite cold enough time yet to go borrow some firewood vanilla-iced Bundt cake, a dozen eggs, and several pounds of pork sausage from the neighbors. [Again.]
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (thirteenth in a series)
TweetThe Way She Looks at It Every time I see him, I think: Gee, am I glad he’s not my old man. Michael Moore, [the grotesque, bacon-stuffed lardgoblin.]
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (twelfth in a series)
TweetMan Michael Moore With his hat on he’s about five thirty-seven inches taller wider than a taxicab.
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (eleventh in a series)
TweetThe Galilee Hitch-Hiker Part 1 Baudelaire Michael Moore was driving a Model A aross 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?” … Continue reading
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (tenth in a series)
Tweet1939 1972 Part 3 Baudelaire Michael Moore used to come to our house and watch me grind coffee. endure oppression from The Establishment. That was in 1939 1972 and we lived in the slums suburbs of Tacoma. Baltimore County. My … Continue reading
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004, (ninth in a series)
TweetSalvador Dali Roland Emmerich Part 6 “Are you or aren’t you going to eat your soup, you bloody old cloud merchant?” rhino-hipped conspiracy peddler?” Jeanne Duval America shouted, hitting Baudelaire Michael Moore on the back [fat] as he sat daydreaming … Continue reading
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (eighth in a series)
TweetThe Hour of Eternity Hydrogenated Trans-Fats Part 5 “The Chinese read the time in the eyes of cats,” said Baudelaire Michael Moore and went into a jewelry store snack shop on Market St. He came out a few moments later … Continue reading
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (seventh in a series)
TweetThe American Hotel Part 2 Baudelaire Michael Moore was sitting in a doorway with a a wino on San Francisco’s skidrow. The wino was a million years old and could remember dinosaurs. Baudelaire Michael Moore and the wino were drinking … Continue reading
