Yes, the Fish Music in  General   

A trout-colored wind blows
through my eyes, through my fingers,
and I remember how the trout
used to hide from the dinosaurs
when they came to drink at the river.
The trout hid in subways, castles,
and automobiles. They waited patiently for the dinosaurs to go away.

By Richard Brautigan

Tell Your Friends About It | Print This Poem

Comments

You should be logged in to be able to leave comments

Other poems by Richard Brautigan:

• -2
• 15%
• 30 Cents, Two Transfers, Love
• All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace
• AUTOBIOGRAPHY (POLISH IT LIKE A PIECE OF SILVER)
• Boo, Forever
• Color As Beginning
• December 30
• Deer Tracks
• Discovery
• Donner Party
• Haiku Ambulance
• Hinged To Forgetfulness Like A Door
• I Live In The Twentieth Century
• Just Because
• Karma Repair Kit: Items 1-4
• Less Time
• Love Poem
• Man
• Mating Saliva
• Milk For The Duck
• My Nose Is Growing Old
• Nine Things
• Please
• Romeo and Juliet
• Surprise
• The Beautiful Poem
• The Fever Monument
• The Moon Versus Us Ever Sleeping Together Again
• To England
• Tournesol
• We Stopped at Perfect Days
• Xerox Candy Bar
• Yes, the Fish Music