The First Winter Snow

Richard Brautigan - 1935-1984
Oh, pretty girl, you have trapped 
yourself in the wrong body.  Twenty 
extra pounds hang like a lumpy 
tapestry on your perfect mammal nature.

Three months ago you were like a 
deer staring at the first winter snow.

Now Aphrodite thumbs her nose at you 
and tells stories behind your back.

More by Richard Brautigan

Private Eye Lettuce

Three crates of Private Eye Lettuce, 
the name and drawing of a detective 
with magnifying glass on the sides 
of the crates of lettuce, 
form a great cross in man's imagination 
and his desire to name 
the objects of this world. 
I think I'll call this place Golgotha 
and have some salad for dinner.

Haiku Ambulance

A piece of green pepper 
   fell
off the wooden salad bowl:
   so what?

Your Catfish Friend

If I were to live my life 
in catfish forms
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers 
at the bottom of a pond 
and you were to come by 
   one evening
when the moon was shining 
down into my dark home 
and stand there at the edge 
   of my affection
and think, "It's beautiful 
here by this pond.  I wish 
   somebody loved me,"
I'd love you and be your catfish 
friend and drive such lonely 
thoughts from your mind 
and suddenly you would be
   at peace,
and ask yourself, "I wonder 
if there are any catfish 
in this pond?  It seems like 
a perfect place for them."