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About this Poem 

“The series of poems ‘Sharking of the Birdcage’ comes out of my recent, long (Soma)tic poetry ritual I created at the MacDowell colony where I meditated with a crystal given to me by my boyfriend Mark Holmes the last time I saw him. He was brutally murdered, leveling my life with depression for a time. These poems mark a healing, a return to wholeness for me.”
CAConrad

from “Sharking of the Birdcage”

                                 
                                  what was it you
                                  wanted us to
                                  say after you died 
it’s awful without you making sound exist
                                you said ponder this
                             but none of us can remember
                             what now dear please speak up
                             when quaking became zeal to open
                                            nothing now but a
                                  medieval barking gargoyle
whoever gave you the tambourine shall
                   be sheriff of my tender zoo
                            I am not here
                            I am in the future
                            where I have always been
            please hurry back and forth to
                                kiss me my ghost

Copyright © 2014 by CAConrad. Used with permission of the author.

Copyright © 2014 by CAConrad. Used with permission of the author.

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."

by this poet

poem

—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

poem
One

i’m going in for
a CAT scan i
mean an audition
for an opera
will it finally
break into
Two paths
this suffering One is tiresome
every gentle piece
of marble in
the sun was
once beaten
into shape
this doesn’t
work with people
take many deep

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