portrait of a man What would you do if the rain fell up? Me? Yeah. Get used to living on a cloud, a hideous formation of deadly greenhouse gases that are conspiring, through the unnatural industry of parasitic man, to kill the planet dead, I guess.*
Poems from 196x, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brauti
February 28, 2005
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2005
Automatic Anthole Driven by hunger, I Michael Moore had another forced bachelor multi-course dinner tonight. I He had a lot of trouble making up my his mind whether to eat Chinese food or have a hamburger. God, I he hate[s] eating dinner alone from a single food genre. It’s like being dead. [So he had both, plus some jerk chicken and biscuits]
October 15, 2004
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (twenty-fifth in a series)
Adrenalin Mother Adrenalin Mother, with your dress of comets and shoes of swift bird wings and shadow of jumping fish, thank you for touching, understanding and loving my life. Without you, I am dead would probably end up like Michael Moore, [rolling through life in huge mayonnaise-stained sweatpants, eating Drake’s coffee cakes and ricotta cheese by the tubful with a very large spoon.]
September 22, 2004
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (twenty-fourth in a series)
Hey, Bacon! The moon like: mischievous bacon crisps its desire (while) I harbor myself Michael Moore harbors himself toward two a half-dozen eggs over easy [and a drum of butterscotch syrup — which he rolls around in like a hog in edible sty mud.]
August 18, 2004
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (twenty-third in a series)
Haiku Michael Moore Ambulance A piece of green pepper fell off the wooden salad bowl: so what? Just leave it. [Michael Moore will lap it off the floor later — along with those peanut shells, and that dollop of guacamole I spilled during last year’s Superbowl.]
August 10, 2004
A Poem from 1967, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (twenty-second in a series)
The Beautiful Poem I go to bed in Los Angeles Denver thinking about you. Pissing a few moments ago I looked down at my penis affectionately. Knowing it has been inside is not attached you twice today to Michael Moore makes me feel beautiful. 3 A.M 10:52 A.M January 15, 1967 August 10, 2004
July 28, 2004
A Poem from 1966, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (twenty-first in a series)
“The Pomegranate Michael Moore Circus” I am desolate in dimension circling the sky like a rainy bird, wet from toe to crown wet from bill to wing. I feel like a drowned king at the pomegranate Michael Moore circus. I vowed last year that I wouldn’t go again but here I sit in my usual seat, dripping and clapping as the pomegranates go Michael Moore goes by in their metallic
July 22, 2004
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (twentieth in a series)
A Boat O beautiful was the werewolf in his evil forest. We took him to the carnival and he started crying when he saw the Ferris wheel. Michael Moore eating a corndog. Electric Deepfried green and red tears golden brown tears flowed down his furry cheeks. He looked like a boat out on the dark water. [For his part, Michael Moore looked like a squat dinosaur gnawing the flesh off
July 13, 2004
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (nineteenth in a series)
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 Michael Moore when they he came to drink at eat donuts beside the river. The trout hid in subways, castles and automobiles. They waited patiently for the dinosaurs Michael Moore to go finally waddle away, [and for America to return to her senses.]
July 8, 2004
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (eighteenth in a series)
Karma Repair Kit: Items 1 – [5] 1. Get enough food to eat, and eat it. 2. Find a place to sleep where it is quiet, and sleep there. 3. Reduce intellectual and emotional noise until you arrive at the silence of yourself and listen to it. [4. Remember: while Michael Moore does have lots and lots of money, he still has to walk around spending it in that horrific,