(Soma)tic Poetry Exercise
& Poem
MINDING THIRST
--for Jamie Townsend
Watch weather report for heavy rain.  On the day before, drink NOTHING.  No beverages of any kind.  Eat no soup or broth.  Eat only steamed vegetables with soft
noodles or bread.  Wait for
rain.  Set your alarm to wake in
the middle of the night, and then sit by the window peering into the dark sky
with binoculars.  Think about your
first memory of being thirsty. 
Take notes, go back to sleep.
Wait for rain. 
You are still not drinking the next day and you are very thirsty.  When rain arrives sit by the
window.  Close your eyes, take your
pulse, hear the rain, feel your blood. 
Imagine that the water you hear coming to earth will never touch your
lips, can never quench the dryness that is your mouth.  Were you ever so thirsty that you were
in pain?  Open your eyes, take
notes.
Go out into the rain. 
Lie on the ground.  Look
into the sky through binoculars with your mouth open.  Drink DIRECTLY from the air while watching the streaming
drops fall onto the binocular lens. 
Open an umbrella and take notes to the beating of rain.  You are a drought that is cured.  You are a body sponging back your
life.  Shape your three sets of
notes into one poem or three.
QUA THIRST
I was thirsty in
1976 on our way
      to a bicentennial picnic
    35 years later we
 eat burritos
 become sad
tears of the cook
got into the rice
and beans
      most afternoons weepy
       
priests eat here
          
mourning their cocks
           my
suggestion of 
          
castration upsets
          
everyone who fail
to consider
my concerns
bread asks
body to hold its
measurement of worth
            
crane my
   neck back and 
       
forth on telephone
       glance at suit of
       cards for their
       sharpened edges
skid marks of
       fatal
crash
      visible for
months
there it is
there it is
      oh my god there
it is LISTEN LISTEN
       I’m
getting a tattoo of
                 
your face on my 
            
ass to show
       you every
time
    you say goodbye
NECRO THIRST
it’s hurting 
me get out of
my house if you
       
don’t hate death as
       much as I
do
          fuck you and your
          smug
Buddhist calm
              
alchemy of thorns
          from kind
intentions
          it’s none of
your
          business if
I trick
   the doorman into
             
thinking I’m
   his wife he
       wrote my name
       in a
heart as
  though I didn’t
ask him to
CAConrad is a recipient of a 2011 Pew Fellowship in the Arts. He is the author of A Beautiful Marsupial Afternoon (Wave Books, 2012), The Book of Frank (Wave Books, 2010), Advanced Elvis Course (Soft Skull Press, 2009), Deviant Propulsion (Soft Skull Press, 2006), and a collaboration with poet Frank Sherlock titled The City Real & Imagined (Factory School, 2010). The son of white trash asphyxiation, his childhood included selling cut flowers along the highway for his mother and helping her shoplift. Visit him online at http://CAConrad.blogspot.com
 
 
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