RICHARD BRAUTIGAN PREDICTS ~

ZAPPLE (THE LAST BEATLES LABEL) ~

Abrams, 2016

B A R R Y      M I L E S

EARTH ~

Richard Brautigan

FOR FEAR YOU WILL BE ALONE


For fear you will be alone
you do so many things
that aren't you at all.









"GOOD WORK," HE SAID, AND


"Good work," he said, and
went out the door. What
work? We never saw him
before. There was no door.









SEXUAL ACCIDENT


The sexual accident
that turned out to be your wife,
the mother of your children
and the end of your life, is home
cooking dinner for all your friends.









THE AMELIA EARHART PANCAKE


I have been unable to find a poem
for this title. I've spent years
looking for one and now I'm giving
--------up.

-----------------November 3, 1970









MARCH 18, RESTING IN THE MAYTAG
HOMAGE


Looking out a hotel window
it's snowing in New York with
great huge snowflakes like millions
of transparent washing machines swirling
through the dirty air of this city, washing
--------it.









WE ARE IN A KITCHEN


We are in a kitchen
in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Some bacon is frying.
It smells like a character
that you like in a good movie.
A beautiful girl is watching
-------the bacon.









THE LAST SURPRISE


The last surprise is when you come
gradually to realize that nothing
--------surprises you any more.









1 / THE CURVE OF FORGOTTEN THINGS


Things slowly curve out of sight
until they are gone. Afterwards
-------only the curve
-------remains.




RICHARD BRAUTIGAN
from Loading Mercury With A Pitchfork
(Simon and Schuster 1976)

Richard Brautigan was born in Tacoma Washington on January 30, 1935.
He died of a self inflicted wound some time in the autumn of 1984 in Bolinas California.
The date isn't precise because the body stayed unknown for awhile.
If a 'note' was left it was cryptic but the author wasn't ~
when asked how to pronounce his name he often said,
"Richard Brought A Gun".
Zillions tried to write like him, but none as well.


http://blogs.westword.com/showandtell/2012/04/qa_richard_brautigan_william_g.php





In this monster biography of Brautigan I've reached page 100, with 800 microscopic type size pages to go. He's already killed himself, born himself, raised himself, left home and all behind as if the genuine orphan, and has landed in "Frisco". Now the tale begins. I adored all his books when I came upon them in 1968 and that lasted for about 10 years. Watermelon Sugar was sweet to the tongue in 1970. Let's not forget 1970. Sweetheart saw him read in Santa Barbara at the same time, and since Brautigan didn't drive, we're now thinking K. may have driven him down. At age 76 (in May) K. will still get up and drive at the drop of a hat, or a dare.

LOOK WHO HAS COME FOR A VISIT. . .

THE PLEASURE OF

FRIENDSHIP

The pleasures of friendship are exquisite.

How pleasant to go to a friend on a visit!

I go to my friend, we walk on the grass,

And the hours and minutes like moments pass.

Stevie Smith

MY HEART WAS FULL

My heart was full of softening showers,

I used to swing like this for hours,

I did not care for war or death,

I was glad to draw my breath.

WE REAL COOL

(The Pool Players.

Seven at the Golden Shovel.)

We real cool. We

Left school. We

Lurk late. We

strike straight. We

Sing sin. We

Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We

Die soon.

Gwendolyn Brooks

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.

Richard Brautigan

I'm no fan of the set-up, the pre-arranged, the presentation, though I have arranged this morning these treats out on the porch sun steps, and they all came to me over the last few months. Just found.

The Stevie Smith is a real treat of actually being available; the Gwendolyn Brooks for all time; and the Brautigan so reasonably priced and just hanging out. I like how he is handing us the phone. A time and place.

Make sure you have your reading glasses and magnifying glass handy to read the Brautigan CD booklet notes: Michael McClure and Bruce Conner are here reading or contributing in some fashion, along with other friends and visitors. The Stevie Smith has a whalloping 50 poems starting with "My Cats". The Gwendolyn Brooks is one hour long, and gives us longer poems "The Lovers of the Poor" and "The Sundays of Satin-Legs Smith" along with her other great stuff.

If I was asked to bring in recordings of modern poets to folks wanting to hear a poem, I'd bring in these three. There would be no question-mark faces. Everyone would recognize something of their own lives here. I'm pretty sure they'd ask for more.