you still hurt

Biennale Venezia 2007 by Tracey Emin

This week’s Monday Poem is by Richard Brautigan. He is best known for his novel “Trout Fishing in America.” In 1984, he died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

This snippet has been circulating on Tumblr for months and every time I stumble upon it, I cannot help but think how love crazy people sometimes are. That we can burn physical bridges but never the emotional ones. And how I can remain an ad for the sale of a haunted house, waiting for you to place your bid.

 

“I feel as if I am an ad
for the sale of a haunted house:

18 rooms
$37,000
Iā€™m yours
ghosts and all.”

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5 thoughts on “Monday Poems: Richard Brautigan

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