The 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 and fountains. The monument was in the shape of a sea horse and the plaque read We got hot and died. was in the shape of a 6′ submarine sandwich and
Poems from 196x, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brauti
June 24, 2004
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (sixteenth in a series)
June 18, 2004
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (fifteenth in a series)
The 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 night they drive that puffy lipidpirate Michael Moore crazy. They run around that cage like pinballs as he stands out there, [thick neck bibbed, knife and fork poking from pale
June 16, 2004
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (fourteenth in a series)
Widow’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.]
June 14, 2004
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (thirteenth in a series)
The 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.]
June 10, 2004
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (twelfth in a series)
Man Michael Moore With his hat on he’s about five thirty-seven inches taller wider than a taxicab.
June 3, 2004
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (eleventh in a series)
The 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?” asked Jesus, getting into the front seat. “Anywhere, anywhere out of this Bush’s [evil] world!” shouted Baudelaire Michael Moore. “I’ll go with you as far as Golgotha,” said Jesus. “I
May 31, 2004
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (tenth in a series)
1939 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 mother would put the coffee beans in the grinder. insulate me from the reality [of the streets, dig? — poisoning me with bourgeois values]. I was a child and would
May 27, 2004
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004, (ninth in a series)
Salvador 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 urinating out of the window. Baudelaire Michael Moore was startled. Then he laughed like hell, waving his spoon tiny penis in the air like a wand changing the room into
May 25, 2004
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (eighth in a series)
The 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 carrying a twenty-one jewel Siamese cat that he wore on the end of a golden chain Four double cheeseburgers, a large tub of onion rings, and a chocolate coated marshmellow
May 24, 2004
A Poem from 1968, Revised by the Ghost of Richard Brautigan, 2004 (seventh in a series)
The 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 Petri Muscatel. “One must always be drunk never trust a Republican,” said Baudelaire Michael Moore. “I live in the American Hotel,” said the wino. “And I can remember dinosaurs.” “Be