Richard Brautigan

1. Sifting through a notebook of letters I'm supposed to send to a friend. It's more than a year overdue in the mail, and yet it remains on my desk, a steady presence, as if afraid to leave this house. At

1. I read this somewhere and it will haunt me always: "how terrible it is to love something that death can touch." 2. The death of poets I love brought me to tears. I think about Szymborska, who died on S.' birthday. He

Listening to Yo-Yo Ma's Cello Concerto, Op85 - Adagio. Working in a trance, as another typhoon sweeps through the streets outside. You are already naked, says the voice in my head, there is no reason not to follow your heart.

Plans foiled by the little details. But I am still feeling lighter than usual, like my skin and flesh have finally found a way to unclasp themselves from my bones. As the Bruises Fade, the Lightning Aches Richard Brautigan As the bruises fade,

Copied in haste on the back of a receipt. Love Poem Richard Brautigan      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. — This is from The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster