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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 While Standing in Line for Death (Wave Books, 2017); 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

While Standing in Line for Death (Wave Books, 2017)
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)

[everyone asks for the you they remember]

                  everyone asks for the you they remember
                  I wish for no new way to feel alone again
                                                                  America is
                                                           the wrong angel
                                                     a classic wristwatch
                                             on the arm of a man who
                                               thinks he owns himself
                                                 back to the borrowed 
                                                         amount of living
                                    here is a rough sketch of what
                          we look like inside when mortality
         distracts us from how we destroy the world
                                          I draw Odin’s ravens 
                                             under the shelf of
                                                teapots in the 
                                                  department
                                                       store
                  may the tea bring us strength
                  may wings lift us to revolution
 

From While Standing in Line for Death (Wave Books, 2017). Copyright © 2017 by CAConrad. Used with permission of the author and Wave Books.

From While Standing in Line for Death (Wave Books, 2017). Copyright © 2017 by CAConrad. Used with permission of the author and Wave Books.

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
                       the pearl starts over
                       a new grain of sand
                       we are going to find
                       in the planet of blue
                    a freshly written eviction note 
                    a sash hanging
poem
                                              another poet
                                              apologizes at a microphone
                                              weakening the hull of our ship
                                              if you can’t believe in your
poem

                                          unfastened
                                    in the backseat a
                             portion of our music is
                          mucus flying into stillness
                          at what point do we submit

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