Jubilee Hitchhiker

I’ve been reading William Hjortsberg’s brand new
biography of Richard Brautigan, Jubilee Hitchhiker.
I’ve been looking forward to this one for a long time.
Just this morning, before I had to run off for the bus,
I learned of, “Brautigan’s high regard for the work
of Kenneth Patchen…According to Virginia [Alder,
his first wife], Patchen’s poetry ‘was one of the
first things we talked about.’ ” (p. 124)
This book is fantastic, a huge saga of
one of my favorite writers.
Up to page 236 now, still in awe
Hjortsberg's writing is like a movie
Brautigan and his story as alive as can be.
I almost missed my bus again this morning
looked at the clock in the kitchen
running through the woods and now
it's 11:49 PM and awake from sleep
I'm reading it again.
That being said (up to page 476)
there's something monstrous too
about this book, from its 'Sunset
Boulevard' beginning to the sheer size
and weight of it, holding on to it to read.
Also, reading it before going to bed,
it sits there all night like 'Donovan's Brain'
creeping into your dreams.