Good-Bye
The melody
has ended.
The flute
will never
play again
Put it
into a box.
Bury the box.
Stand there
and remember
the melody
of the flute.
(Good-bye, Mother.
Father. Somebody.
Good-bye.)
And the wind
of a warm
autumn afternoon
causes leaver
to scratch
the tombstone.)
Good-bye
źródło: The Edna Webster Collection of Undiscovered Writings
o źródle i prawach
tekst z archiwum "american dust" (brautiganarchives.xyz); z tomu "The Edna Webster Collection of Undiscovered Writings" (Houghton Mifflin, 1999)
14.06.2026