Poetry Less time - Richard Brautigan

[Snafu in the Void]

Less time than it takes to say it, less tears than it takes to die;
I've taken account of everything, there you have it.
I've made a census of the stones, they are as numerous as my fingers and some others;
I've distributed some pamphelts to the plants, but not all were willing to accpet them.
I've kept company with music for a second only and now I no longer know what to think of suicide,
for if I ever want to part from myself, the exit is on this side and,
I add mischievously, the entrance, the re-entrance is on the other.
You see what you still have to do. Hours, grief, I don't keep a reasonable account of them;
I'm alone, I look out of the window; there is no passerby, or rather no one passes.
You don't know this man? It's Mr. Same.

May I introduce Madam Madam? And their children. Then I turn back on my steps,
my steps turn back too, but I don't know exactly what they turn back on. I consult a schedule;
the names of the towns have been replaced by the names of people who have been quite close to me.
Shall I go to A, return to B, change at X? Yes, of course I'll change at X. Provided I don't miss the connection with boredom!
There we are: boredom, beautiful parallels, ah!
how beautiful the parallels are under God's perpendicular.

less time - Richard Brautigan