The Day They Busted the Grateful Dead

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The Day They Busted the Grateful Dead

– by Richard Brautigan

The day they busted the Grateful Dead
rain stormed against San Francisco
like hot swampy scissors cutting Justice
into the evil clothes that alligators wear.

The day they busted the Grateful Dead
was like a flight of winged alligators
carefully measuring marble with black
rubber telescopes.

The day they busted the Grateful Dead
turned like the wet breath of alligators
blowing up ballons the size of the
Hall of Justice

– From _The_Pill_Versus_The_Springhill_Mine_Disaster,
copyright 1968, Richard Brautigan

Little secrets I

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I, who felt

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I, who felt the horrors of mirrors
Not only in front of the impenetrable crystal
Where there ends and begins, uninhabitable,
An impossible space of reflections…
(J.L. Borges)

Little secrets II

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Little secrets III

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Little secrets IV

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