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About this poet

Born on January 1, 1966, CAConrad describes himself as "the son of white trash asphyxiation whose childhood included selling cut flowers along the highway for his mother and helping her shoplift."

He is the author of numerous collections of poetry, including ECODEVIANCE: (Soma)tics for the Future Wilderness (Wave Books, 2014); Philip Seymour Hoffman (were you high when you said this?) (Worms Press, 2014); A Beautiful Marsupial Afternoon: New (Soma)tics (Wave Books, 2012); The City Real & Imagined (Factory School Press, 2010), with the poet Frank Sherlock; and The Book of Frank (Chax Press, 2009), recipient of the Gil Ott Book Award. He has also authored a book of nonfiction essays, Advanced Elvis Course (Soft Skull Press, 2009).

Poet Eileen Myles writes, "[CAConrad] always argues (from the inside of his poems) for a poetry of radical inclusivity while keeping a very queer shoulder to the wheel. His kind of queerness strikes me as nonpolarizing, not intentionally but because of the fullness of his exposition, a kind of gigantism that seems to me to be most deeply informed by love, and a tenderness for the ravages and tumult of existence."

CAConrad's honors include fellowships from the Banff Art Center, Lannan Foundation, MacDowell Colony, Pew Center for Arts & Heritage, and Ucross Foundation. CAConrad conducts lectures and workshops across the country on (Soma)tics and Ecopoetics. He currently lives in Philadelphia.


Selected Bibliography

Poetry

ECODEVIANCE: (Soma)tics for the Future Wilderness (Wave Books, 2014)
Philip Seymour Hoffman (were you high when you said this?) (Worms Press, 2014)
A Beautiful Marsupial Afternoon: New (Soma)tics (Wave Books, 2012)
The City Real & Imagined (Factory School, 2010)
The Book of Frank (Chax Press, 2009)
Deviant Propulsion (Soft Skull Press, 2006)

Nonfiction

Advanced Elvis Course (Soft Skull Press, 2009)

(Soma)tic 1: Anoint Thyself

CAConrad, 1966

—for John Coletti & Jess Mynes

Visit the home of a deceased poet you admire and bring some natural thing back with you. I went to Emily Dickinson's house the day after a reading event with my friend Susie Timmons. I scraped dirt from the foot of huge trees in the backyard into a little pot. We then drove into the woods where we found miniature pears, apples, and cherries to eat. I meditated in the arms of an oak tree with the pot of Emily's dirt, waking to the flutter of a red cardinal on a branch a foot or so from my face, staring, showing me his little tongue.

When I returned to Philadelphia I didn't shower for three days, then rubbed Emily's dirt all over my body, kneaded her rich Massachusetts soil deeply into my flesh, then put on my clothes and went out into the world. Every once in a while I stuck my nose inside the neck of my shirt to inhale her delicious, sweet earth covering me. I felt revirginized through the ceremony of my senses. I could feel her power tell me these are the ways to walk and speak and shift each glance into total concentration for maximum usage of our little allotment of time on a planet. LOSE AND WASTE NO MORE TIME POET! Lose and waste no more time she said to me as I took note after note on the world around me for the poem.


your sweaty party dress and my sweaty party dress lasted a few minutes until the tomato was gone someday they will disambiguate you but not while I'm around our species won Emily we won it feels so good to be winning the flame of victory pass it around it never goes out dinosaurs ruled Massachusetts dinosaurs fucking and laying eggs in Amherst Boston Mount Holyoke then you appeared high priestess pulling it out of the goddamned garden with both hands you Emily remembered the first time comprehending a struck match can spread a flame it feels good to win this fair and square protest my assessment all you want but not needing to dream is like not needing to see the world awaken to itself indestructible epiphanies consume the path and just because you're having fun doesn't mean you're not going to die recrimination is the fruit to defy with unexpected appetite I will be your outsider if that's how you need me electric company's stupid threatening letters cannot affect a poet who has faced death

From A Beautiful Marsupial Afternoon. Copyright © 2012 by CAConrad. Reprinted by permission of the publisher. All rights reserved.

From A Beautiful Marsupial Afternoon. Copyright © 2012 by CAConrad. Reprinted by permission of the publisher. All rights reserved.

CAConrad

CAConrad

Born on January 1, 1966, CAConrad describes himself as "the son of white trash asphyxiation whose childhood included selling cut flowers along the highway for his mother and helping her shoplift."

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Confetti Allegiance

Is there a deceased poet who was alive in your lifetime but you never met, and you wish you had met? A poet you would LOVE to correspond with, but it's too late? Take notes about this missed opportunity. What is your favorite poem by this poet? Write it on unlined paper by hand (no

poem
1

by choking in
11 years
4 months
2 weeks
6 days
12:18 pm

     ———

when i win the lottery
i want my legs amputated
and two beautiful peg legs
wooden of course

Frank Sherlock says it's
a very bad idea
he says i should
reconsider
seriously
reconsider

i want peg legs but
he says i'll regret it
he might
poem

                                 
                                  what was it you
                                  wanted us to
                                  say after you died 
it’s awful without you making sound exist
                                you said ponder this