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The Bookstore Was A Parking Lot For Used Graveyards. Thousands Of Graveyards Were Parked In Rows Like Cars. Most Of The Books Were Out Of Print, And No One Wanted To Read Them Any More And The People Who Had Read The Books Had Died Or Forgotten About Them, But Through The Organic Process Of Music The Books Had Become Virgins Again.

-Richard Brautigan

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The Bookstore Was A

Richard Brautigan

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The Bookstore Was A Parking Lot For Used Graveyards. Thousands Of Graveyards Were Parked In Rows Like Cars. Most Of The Books Were Out Of Print, And No One Wanted To Read Them Any More And The People Who Had Read The Books Had Died Or Forgotten About Them, But Through The Organic Process Of Music The Books Had Become Virgins Again.

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I Like To Think (it Has To Be!) Of A Cybernetic Ecology Where We Are Free Of Our Labors And Joined Back To Nature, Returned To Our Mammal Brothers And Sisters, And All Watched Over By Machines Of Loving Grace.

Once Upon A Time There Was A Dwarf Knight Who Only Had Fifty Words To Live In And They Were So Fleeting That He Only Had Time To Put On A Suit Of Armor And Ride Swiftly On A Black Horse Into A Very Well-lit Woods Where He Vanished Forever.

Im Haunted A Little This Evening By Feelings That Have No Vocabulary And Events That Should Be Explained In Dimensions Of Lint Rather Than Words. Ive Been Examining Half-scraps Of My Childhood. They Are Pieces Of Distant Life That Have No Form Or Meaning. They Are Things That Just Happened Like Lint.

It's Pretty Hard To Have Faith When Everybody Is Trying To Lock You Up.

There Was Something Dead In My Heart. I Tried To Figure Out What It Was By The Strength Of The Smell. I Knew That It Was Not A Lion Or A Sheep Or A Dog. Using Logical Deduction, I Came To The Conclusion That It Was A Mouse. I Had A Dead Mouse In My Heart.

For Fear You Will Be Alone You Do So Many Things That Aren't You At All.

One Day Time Will Die And Love Will Bury It

Boo, Forever Spinning Like A Ghost On The Bottom Of A Top, I'm Haunted By All The Space That I Will Live Without You.

My Teachers Could Easily Have Ridden With Jesse James For All The Time They Stole From Me.

I Had A Good-talking Candle Last Night In My Bedroom. I Was Very Tired But I Wanted Somebody To Be With Me, So I Lit A Candle And Listened To Its Comfortable Voice Of Light Until I Was Asleep.

Burn All The Maps To Your Body. I'm Not Here Of My Own Choosing.

The Sun Was Like A Huge 50-cent Piece That Someone Had Poured Kerosene On And Then Had Lit With A Match, And Said, "here, Hold This While I Go Get A Newspaper," And Put The Coin In My Hand, But Never Came Back.

The American Humorist Sat On His Couch Suffering Thoughts Of Her, Trying To Figure Out How To Win Back Her Affections, Wondering What Had Happened Between Them Or Just Tumbling Head-over-heels Down Into Romantic Oblivion Where The Image Of A Remembered Kiss Provokes Bottomless Despair And Makes Death Seem Like The Right Idea.he Experienced The Basics Of Love Ended.

Reduce Intellectual And Emotional Noise Until You Arrive At The Silence Of Yourself And Listen To It.

If You Get Hung Up On Everybody Else's Hang-ups, Then The Whole World's Going To Be Nothing More Than One Huge Gallows.

Excuse Me, I Said. I Thought You Were A Trout Stream. I'm Not, She Said.

I Fished Upstream Coming Ever Closer And Closer To The Narrow Staircase Of The Canyon. Then I Went Up Into It As If I Were Entering A Department Store. I Caught Three Trout In The Lost And Found Department.

Love Poem ـــــــــ 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.

I Wonder If There Are Any Catfish In This Pond? It Seems Like A Perfect Place For Them.

The Smallest Snowstorm On Record Took Place An Hour Ago In My Back Yard. It Was Approximately Two Flakes. I Waited For More To Fall, But That Was It. The Entire Storm Was Two Flakes.

If You Will Die For Me, I Will Die For You And Our Graves Will Be Like Two Lovers Washing Their Clothes Together In A Laundromat If You Will Bring The Soap I Will Bring The Bleach.

Sometimes Life Is Merely A Matter Of Coffee And Whatever Intimacy A Cup Of Coffee Affords.

All Of Us Have A Place In History. Mine Is Clouds.

The 1960s: A Lot Of People Remember Hating President Lyndon Baines Johnson And Loving Janis Joplin And Jim Morrison, Depending On The Point Of View. God Rest Their Souls.

I Don't Want My Daughter To Be Educated. I Think Women Should Just Be Decorative.

Gee, You're So Beautiful That It's Starting To Rain Oh, Marcia, I Want Your Long Blonde Beauty To Be Taught In High School, So Kids Will Learn That God Lives Like Music In The Skin And Sounds Like A Sunshine Harpsicord. I Want High School Report Cards To Look Like This: Playing With Gentle Glass Things A Computer Magic A Writing Letters To Those You Love A Finding Out About Fish A Marcia's Long Blonde Beauty A+!

I Had Become So Quiet And So Small In The Grass By The Pond That I Was Barely Noticeable, Hardly There... I Sat There Watching Their Living Room Shining Out Of The Dark Beside The Pond. It Looked Like A Fairy Tale Functioning Happily In The Post-world War Ii Gothic Of America Before Television Crippled The Imagination Of America And Turned People Indoors And Away From Living Out Their Own Fantasies With Dignity... Anyway, I Just Kept Getting Smaller And Smaller Beside The Pond, More And More Unnoticed In The Darkening Summer Grass Until I Disappeared Into The 32 Years That Have Passed Since Then.

I Have Always Wanted To Write A Book That Ended With The Word 'mayonnaise.

The Bees In My Stomach Are Dead And Getting Used To It.

I Saw Thousands Of Pumpkins Last Night Come Floating In On The Tide, Bumping Up Against The Rocks And Rolling Up On The Beaches; It Must Be Halloween In The Sea

"i Count A Lot Of Things That There's No Need To Count," Cameron Said. "just Because That's The Way I Am. But I Count All The Things That Need To Be Counted."

Her Sunny Side Was Always Up.

God-forsaken Is Beautiful, Too.

We Walked Back To Ideath, Holding Hands. Hands Are Very Nice Things, Especially After They Have Travelled Back From Making Love.

I Don't Know These People And They Aren't My Flowers.

I’ll Affect You Slowly As If You Were Having A Picnic In A Dream. There Will Be No Ants. It Won’t Rain.

You've Got Some 'star-spangled' Nails In Your Coffin, Kid. That's What They've Done For You, Son.

He Learned About Life At Sixteen, First From Dostoevsky And Then From The Whores Of New Orleans.

Elizabeth's Voice Had A Door In It. When You Opened That Door You Found Another Door, And That Door Opened Yet Another Door. All The Doors Were Nice And Led Out Of Her.

I'll Think About Things For Thirty Or Forty Years Before I'll Write It.

It's Strange How The Simple Things In Life Go On While We Become More Difficult.

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In A Cafe" I Watched A Man In A Cafe Fold A Slice Of Bread As If He Were Folding A Birth Certificate Or Looking At The Photograph Of A Dead Lover.

In Watermelon Sugar The Deeds Were Done And Done Again As My Life Is Done In Watermelon Sugar.

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We Looked Like A Parade Barely Moving Toward You Might Get Lost.

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The Time Is Right To Mix Sentences With Dirt And The Sun With Punctuation And Rain With Verbs.

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A Friend Came Over To The House A Few Days Ago And Read One Of My Poems. He Came Back Today And Asked To Read The Same Poem Over Again. After He Finished Reading It, He Said, It Makes Me Want To Write Poetry.

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I Feel As If I Am An Ad For The Sale Of A Haunted House: 18 Rooms $37,000 I’m Yours Ghosts And All.

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...what Makes You Older Is When Your Bones, Muscles And Blood Wear Out, When The Heart Sinks Into Oblivion And All The Houses You Ever Lived In Are Gone And People Are Not Really Certain That Your Civilization Ever Existed.

The Coleman Lantern Is The Symbol Of The Camping Craze That Is Currently Sweeping America, With Its Unholy White Light Burning In The Forests Of America.

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Because You Always Have A Clock Strapped To Your Body, It's Natural That I Should Think Of You As The Correct Time: With Your Long Blonde Hair At 8:03, And Your Pulse-lightning Breasts At 11:17, And Your Rose-meow Smile At 5:30, I Know I'm Right.

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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.

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