“The Beautiful Poem"I go to bed in Los Angeles thinking about you.Pissing a few moments ago I looked down at my penisaffectionately.Knowing it has been inside you twice today makes mefeel beautiful.”
In this excerpt from the poem "The Beautiful Poem" by Richard Brautigan, the speaker expresses a sense of intimacy, vulnerability, and beauty in their relationship with another person. The speaker's contemplation of their connection with the other person while in a mundane moment, such as urinating, highlights the depth of their emotions. This reflective and introspective tone creates a sense of tenderness and affection in the poem.
In this intimate and provocative poem by Richard Brautigan, the speaker shares a moment of vulnerability and connection as he reflects on thoughts of a lover. The quote captures feelings of intimacy and beauty in a simple and raw manner.
The speaker's contemplation of his physical connection with the lover, depicted through a mundane act like urination, is juxtaposed with feelings of tenderness and beauty. This juxtaposition highlights the depth of the speaker's emotions and his sense of connection with the lover. The mention of Los Angeles as the setting adds a sense of place and context to the poem, grounding the emotional reflection in a specific location. Overall, Brautigan's "The Beautiful Poem" offers a glimpse into the complexity of human relationships and the power of connection.
In today's world, where technology has allowed for instantaneous connections and communication, the sentiment expressed in Richard Brautigan's poem still resonates with many. The idea of feeling beautiful and connected to someone through intimate moments, even from afar, is a timeless and universal feeling that continues to be relevant in the modern day. It serves as a reminder of the power of human connection and the ability to feel close to someone, even when physically apart.
This poem by Richard Brautigan offers a unique perspective on intimacy and connection. As you reflect on these words, consider the following questions:
“Gee, You're so Beautiful That It's Starting to RainOh, Marcia,I want your long blonde beautyto be taught in high school,so kids will learn that Godlives like music in the skinand sounds like a sunshine harpsicord.I want high school report cards to look like this:Playing with Gentle Glass Things AComputer Magic AWriting Letters to Those You Love AFinding out about Fish AMarcia's Long Blonde Beauty A+!”
“For the rest of my life I'll be thinking about that hamburger. I'll be sitting there at the counter, holding it in my hands with tears streaming down my cheeks. The waitress will be looking away because she doesn't like to see kids crying when they are eating hamburgers...”
“I thought about it for awhile, hiding it from the rest of my mind. But I didn't ruin my birthday by secretly thinking about it too hard”
“My Name“I guess you are kind of curious as to who I am, but I am one of those who do not have a regular name. My name depends on you. Just call me whatever is in your mind.If you are thinking about something that happened a long time ago: Somebody asked you a question and you did not know the answer.That is my name.Perhaps it was raining very hard.That is my name.Or somebody wanted you to do something. You did it. Then they told you what you did was wrong—“Sorry for the mistake,”—and you had to do something else.That is my name.Perhaps it was a game you played when you were a child or something that came idly into your mind when you were old and sitting in a chair near the window.That is my name.Or you walked someplace. There were flowers all around.That is my name.Perhaps you stared into a river. There as something near you who loved you. They were about to touch you. You could feel this before it happened. Then it happened.That is my name.”
“Vida was sound asleep when I went back to my room. I turned on the light and it woke her up. She was blinking and her face had that soft marble quality to it that beautiful women have when they are suddenly awakened and are not quite ready for it yet. "What's happening?" she said. "It's another book," she replied, answering her own question. "Yes," I said. "What's it about?" she said automatically like a gentle human phonograph. "It's about growing flowers in hotel rooms.”
“Like some kind of strange vacuum cleaner I tried to console him. I recited the same old litanies that you say to people when you try to help their broken hearts, but words can't help at all.It's just the sound of another human voice that makes the only difference. There's nothing you're ever going to say that's going to make anybody happy when they're feeling shitty about losing somebody that they love.”