Tuesday, December 21, 2010

#52 vibrAting dAys

A collaborative (Soma)tic by CAConrad & Bhanu Kapil

Rest your hands on a vibrating machine: car, fan, washing machine or dryer, anything with a motor that vibrates. Take notes after a few minutes, spontaneous notes, write with one hand still on the machine. Rest your cheek and other body parts against the machine, close your eyes and allow a low hum to build deep inside your body. Deepen the hum and allow it to rise. Open your mouth to release it. Take notes with your forehead against the vibrating machine. What is a favorite song from your childhood? Hum that song (don’t sing the words) with eyes closed with as much of your body pressed against the machine that you can manage. HUM HUM HUM THIS SONG LOUDER AND LOUDER AND LOUDER. Take notes about the song about the time in your life when you first heard it and take notes about now take notes about your life that is now.

River Inversion. An experiment in cadence. Walk to the nearest river. This may take you days. This may take you minutes. Invert yourself above this river. Let your hair go into the river. You are face up. If you do not have long enough hair, or hair, then let your hands go into the river, above your head. You are lying on the ground as close to the edge as you can get. You walked here. It's snowing. It is winter-time. It is spring-time. You live in the country you were born in. You are in India. You are far from home. Perhaps there is no river. Perhaps you are at the sea. A river is more stable, yet runs shakti. Shaki is the primordial vibration. It is the divine feminine vibration, and I have found it in the rivers of North America as much as the Ganges or Thames. Some rivers are very powerful. I went to Chicago and the river below my window was a toxic river, but I felt the shakti like KALI. An oblivion. It doesn't matter if it is pure river or a toxic river or an ordinary stream with mixed qualities. As an extension of your body you could use, instead of hair or hands, wool, or branches -- something that you will feel in your own body when it moves in the current. This is the current. Wait until you feel your breathing and spinal flow mixing with the riverbank or shore. Your throat is open. Your head tilted back. At the same time, you should feel almost slumped. Very relaxed and free. It is hard to experience a physical feeling of freedom with someone telling you to feel that way. But nevertheless, this is the path of descent. It is not about posture, it is about the surrender of posture. I am sharing with you what I learned at the ashram in Kankhal. Stay there as long as you can, until the vibration of the river has mixed in with your body. Inside, with your lips zipped shut, repeat: "Ram." A long central syllable: "Raaaaaaam." Like an "a" version of OM. This will run the shakti through you even more. You could say it 8 times aloud, then zip your mouth shut and repeat/chant the syllable inside you. This will increase the power of your mantra. You will now when you have softened. If you have recently suffered a heartbreak, or find yourself unable to shake the sense of loss following a broken love, visualize, too, a stream of light as gold-white as the sun coming into your heart center. Sometimes, if I have a lot of anxiety, I bring the parallel shakti of the sun into my forehead. In-breath: the light comes in. Out-breath: the light softens out, filling the chest or the brain. The brain is very real. I know you are not meant to think of the brain as a reservoir of thought, but lately, I have been thinking that the brain is, in fundamental ways, that cave. Of red things. But in the river inversion, the brain is surrendered to the larger flow of images.

Now it is time to go home, or to a sheltered place. Sit up gently, and take in your hand some of the earth of the riverbank. Just keep in it in your fist until you reach your home, or the the sheltered place. Try not to speak to anyone. When you have reached the next place, put the dirt on the table where you have sat to write. Take out your notebook, or its equivalent. Now write the beginning of the book you have wanted to write for much of the last five years, or more. A poet's novel. A page or two. A map. Day Two is for cleansing. Day Two is for beginning something new.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

on 2nd Ave. Poetry...

Frank Sherlock interviewed me on (Soma)tic practice and the occult
for 2nd Ave. Poetry (many thanks to the editors!)
Click HERE for the interview.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

#51 a Mercury Retrograde FREE FALL

Let’s surrender to the turmoil, find a poem in the clattering increase. Mercury is communication, Mercury’s retrograde has grades of dysfunctional communication. Enhance these troubles with food from Mercury’s temple: dill, carrot, celery, and LEMON lots of LEMON. ENHANCE close listening in this time of hard listening. Carry an agate, wear yellow, lots and lots of yellow. Take careful notes through the three-week period of the planet’s retrograde cycle: arguments with others, miscommunications, or HOW MANY TIMES did you feel thwarted unnecessarily or jealous or angry or confused and stupid? Careful, thoughtful awareness of WHAT EXACTLY IS our listening? What are these ears? I remember a particular venison stew as a boy, meat from a young stag. Later I saw an old doe by the creek, she caught my eye, tilted her head, twitched her tail. She KNEW I ate her son, her delicious son, and it was horrible. FILLED with his spirit I leapt from stone to stone to fallen tree. HOW do molecules of a digested Being reach AND BECOME our own senses? How? Through blood? Gliding the aura’s taut surface? We walk through waves of sound all day long, birds fly through them, dolphins SEE with sound. SEE with sound. Dolphins SEE inside structures with their sonar. Engage with animals, in fact allow ALL communication doors wide open. Willfully take the flood into your life and into your home. Notes notes, take many notes, the poem will follow.

Friday, November 12, 2010




Tuesday, November 9, 2010

#50 a beautiful marsupial AFTERNOON

Someone downtown bought a new refrigerator and I carried the large cardboard box upstairs to my apartment. Lined with blankets and pillows it was the perfect marsupial pouch for the new poetry exercise. I punched a hole in the back and inserted a baby bottle filled with soy milk to suck on. Just outside the box DVD's of Pasolini's films played, first The Decameron, then The Canterbury Tales. An entire world of human sexual intrigue and treachery outside, my, warm, pouch, here, I, am. HOW do I make the world comfortable everyday I ask myself? HOW do I manage to get up in the morning KNOWING that my taxes pay for bullets and bombs to kill the people of Iraq and Afghanistan? In 2009 three children died every single day in Afghanistan from war-related injuries. HOW did I not kill myself with worry and guilt? HOW often do I think about being complicit in the degradation of life on earth? My boyfriend came over, we played Pasolini's SALO OR 120 DAYS OF SODOM. We removed the baby bottle from the back of my cardboard pouch and my boyfriend used it as a glory hole. Graffiti around his cock AND THEN little wigs for its head made of cotton and pillow stuffing. I glued a frame around the hole, asked him to back up and enter again slower, slowly, a portrait of a cannon at the castle gates maybe? YES! Finding the spaces between hating this world, finding and loving those spaces. Today. Tomorrow. It's going to become a poem from the pouch. My cardboard Momma, Pasolini, and the glory hole of a beautiful marsupial afternoon. Thanks to you who make things delicious and wonderful. Without you despair would appreciate its earnings. Notes from this day are to become a poem.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

#49 take a (Soma)tic bus ride!

A collaborative (Soma)tic by CAConrad and Ryan Eckes

PART ONE: Take a bus to a city where you have never lived. We took a bus to NYC from Philadelphia. The driver was obnoxious, but we were undeterred. The driver was a terrible driver, tapping the accelerator over and over and over lurching stopping lurching stopping. This is excellent for poetry, these bad bus drivers. Have one foot on the floor, the other hovering an inch above the floor. FEEL the staggering, growling engine through the floor. Look outside. What engines move the world out there? Trees, what does the engine of a tree sound like? Touch the seat in front of you in two-second intervals. Lift your hand to the air in front of you. It is FREE from the vibrations of the bus. HOW is this your life? What does it even mean to ask "HOW is this your life?" How are you FREE and not free? Look around you at the strangers on the bus. You are near people who share planet Earth with you. LOOK AT THEM. What do you have in common with each other? Take notes, take notes, notes notes notes. PART TWO: When you get off the bus, you should be hungry. Go get something to eat at a kind of restaurant you've never eaten at before, and order something you've never tasted before. As you eat, say the name once in a while of the dish you've ordered, and think about the sounds of the words along with the taste of the food -- does it match? Are there discrepancies? Take notes on your napkin. Ask the server what they think about the dish -- do they like it, why, why not? Take as many napkins with you as you can so you can write on them throughout the day. Exit
the place and ask the first person you see (or who'll answer you) in which direction they think you should walk. You're not worried about going any direction in particular. If they ask what type of destination you want, say "Look, I need some guidance, okay?" Walk a couple of blocks and then ask another person "Left or right or straight ahead?" Do this 7 times. Walk two blocks after the 7th direction -- this is your destination. Take out your napkins and write about what you saw on the way, see now, and how the food feels in your belly. Do this sitting on the ground. Shape all your notes into a poem.

Monday, October 25, 2010

#48 YOUR (Soma)tic Spectrum

Eat a single color of food for a day. For 7 days do this, eating through the spectrum of color our optic nerves are able to bring into focus and joy. Use food coloring, it's about EATING the color, not whether or not RED naturally appears. Water with food coloring, rice, potatoes, you can do it, you can absorb it for the poems. And wear or SURROUND yourself with the color. For RED I wore a red wig someone threw in the dumpster behind the beauty academy near my apartment. For ORANGE I drew an orange ladder on my chest with magic marker. For YELLOW I tucked a yellow condom in my left sock. For GREEN I painted my middle fingernails green. For BLUE I listened to Bobby Vinton's song "Blue Velvet" on a continuous loop from 6 am to midnight. For PURPLE I wore purple clothes pin nipple clamps all day. For WHITE I wrote the number 108 on my forehead with my boyfriend's semen. EACH color EACH day found me anew. This was a visitation with each CHAKRA. Each day, before eating the color, drinking the color, hum a LOW, DEEP HUM, sit straight in a chair, feet on the floor. Reach into that day's chakra, RED the root/sex, etc., GREEN the heart. The notes you take will want out naturally. Work with a clear quartz crystal gemstone. On the first day, RED, meditate with the quartz on your groin. Each day move the stone UP your body as you investigate the next color. There are samples of my color poems HERE.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010


A Collaborative (Soma)tic by CAConradErica Kaufman

DAY ONE: On 8 small pieces of paper draw 8 different animals with crayons, magic markers, pens, paint, or whatever. Elephants, bats, tigers, wolves, and even supernatural animals like angels, dragons, leprechauns, horse ghosts. Make one of these your spirit totem, or at least an animal you feel an affinity for. On the back of the drawing write something like, “HELLO, my name is Craig, and I am a dragon from rural Pennsylvania. You might have some questions for me, and I might have some questions for you.” Create an e-mail address to include with your message. Go out into public and leave each animal for strangers to find on subways, in libraries, at hair salons, or taped to a restroom stall. SAVE your totem animal for last. Research the spiritual and mystical legends associated with your animal. For instance one of my totems is the crow which is said to know both Divine Law and Human Law, but always weighs situations by Divine Law. While walking through Philadelphia with my crow drawing I looked for such signs. For instance it is perfectly legal by Human Law for rich people to purchase diamonds many suffered to mine, and then to walk past homeless people begging for spare change for supper. Clearly the Science of Love has no legitimate testimony for Human Law. Take notes throughout the entire process of the animal card creations and public deposits. And involve any correspondence with strangers in your poem.

DAY TWO: Begin your day with a walk around your neighborhood. Notice the animals that surround us. Try to keep a list of them and what they say to you as they cross your path. This can include squirrels, dogs, cats, rats, mice, etc…bugs are animals too, in my opinion. Look for them. Listen to them. Talk to them. Take notes. Use at least 1/3 of these "conversations" in the poem.

Sunday, September 5, 2010


Green is the color of the heart chakra, even in this world where the brain continuously insists the heart is not clever enough to know the way. Today we will not be practical. Today we will listen to the sounds of war our bodies resist. In her time, poet Mina Loy listened very closely for the directions, and told us in her poems. Prepare yourself with rose quartz, the gemstone most associated with the heart. You can purchase a small, inexpensive piece at almost any jewelry store in your town. Just a small piece, as it takes less to stir our openings than might be expected. When you bring it home keep it in a solution of salt water overnight to clean it, then flush the water the next morning. Now carry the stone for a week, taking notes while reading the poems of Mina Loy. For nearly a century her poems have been waiting to be used as keys for the map. Find a passage you want to turn into a portal. For me it was from her "Songs to Joannes":

        I don't care
        Where the legs of the legs of the furniture are walking to
        Or what is hidden in the shadows they stride
        Or what would look at me
        If the shutters were not shut

        Red a warm colour on the battlefield
        Heavy on my knees as a counterpane
        Count counter
        I counted           the fringe of the towel
        Till two tassels clinging together
        Let the square room fall away

Type it, using the largest font size to fit a page, then print it out on green paper. Green is the color of the heart chakra. Draw a large circle into the poem big enough for your eyes and nose to come through. Cut the circle out. Walk around looking through your portal, green, the color green of the heart chakra, bringing the heart UP to the head, keeping the color of the heart UP to the head, keeping the head to the color of the heart. Walk around. Look at your home, walk outside and smell around, look around through your MINA LOY PORTAL, your own portal, it belongs to you. Occasionally stop and read the poem while taking your pulse. Feel your pulse while reading, reading right up to the missing words around your portal. Notes, notes, take notes. The poem you create from this exercise will be the key to your next poem, and to the next day, and for you, and because it is your life.
(CAConrad and the "your MINA LOY PORTAL"
photo by the amazing Dorothea Lasky)

Thursday, August 19, 2010

(Soma)tic Poetry Workshop
for 9/9/10, 6:30pm
please click HERE

Thursday, August 5, 2010

I interviewed Me

I interviewed Me on (Soma)tic SOUNDWAVES. Thank you Pam Brown for this publication, which everyone can read HERE!

Sunday, August 1, 2010

#45 MUGGED into poetry

If you haven't been stabbed or shot, if they took your money under threat and left, consider a poem. After I was mugged recently in Philadelphia this exercise came to mind on the subway ride home, the post-mugging subway ride where poetry took it's rightful place at the center of my world where even muggers play a part in it, it being bigger than the knife, more concentrated and firmer than his cock which will have many admirers in prison. He's going to die. So am I. So are you. He could have EASILY killed me, he and his three friends BUT I AM ALIVE AND QUITE WELL writing for poetry as I willingly came to this cesspool of humanity to do. All the globe becomes a poem. It is enough to manage this small part, here, a body, in a body, stinking, beautiful, a bit of tormented, angry, tender, delicious flesh. It is enough. Each of us. If we can read this we are all alive and creative. Anyone who tells you that you are not creative is a coward afraid of his own potential, trust me. Ignore all cowards, they were born to be ignored. Find your strength, find your poems. Every morning for two weeks as soon as you waken PREDICT your death. And write it down. For instance, "by choking in 11 years, 4 months, 2 weeks, 6 days, 12:18 pm." THEN STARTING at the tips of your toes touch your cells of skin and nails, feel bones, your pulse, hair, feel your moving body in the morning ALWAYS moving as long as you live you are moving blood through veins moving thoughts through dreams EVERY morning for two weeks touch every inch of your body's surface and your holes moist and dry. As soon as you finish this reaffirming ritual write a poem from your moving blood in the thoughts of the dream, and combine that LIVING poem with the prediction of your death. Click HERE to see my poem from the execution of this exercise, "GUESSING MY DEATH."

Monday, July 19, 2010

08/08/10 workshop

(Soma)tic Poetry Workshop
New York City
August 8th, 2010

Limited number of participants
REGISTER at this link

Thursday, July 1, 2010

#44 AIDS Snow Family

"The poem is restorative, rather than fragmenting."
             --Alexandra Grilikhes

for anyone who loved someone who died of AIDS

In January gather snow, this is intimate this calling to honor the shock of being alive. I made one tiny snowman named CAConrad, and one tiny snowman named Tommy Schneider. For six months they held hands in the privacy of my freezer while I visited the streets and buildings in the Philadelphia of our Love. Snow crystals travel miles out of clouds into the light of our city. My snowman read to his snowman the letters I brought home to the freezer. It's 2010, AIDS is different in this century you didn't live to see. The used bookshop where you worked on South Street is now a clothing store. Our first kiss in the Poetry Section is a rack of blue jeans and I resist hooking my thumbs in the belt loops to pull you in -- I FEEL you everywhere today. In March an old friend was visiting and she said, "But you wrote poems for Tommy after he died." I said, "But it's sublime retracing our love in this exercise." She shook her head, "No, it's sad, it's very sad. Can't you see this beautiful day?" OF COURSE I see the beautiful day, in fact I SEE IT MORE THAN EVER, and I don't need her choreography to enter it. The point of experiencing love is to engage the greater openings. It's important to ignore the directives of others when investigating the way these doors swing on their hinges. Months of spring into summer, my snowman told your snowman the memories. One night you had asked if I was upset at something. I said, "I have no right to complain, all the men are dying in our city and I don't have AIDS!" You said, "Well I have no right to complain because I have a wonderful boyfriend who loves me and I DO have AIDS!" Macrobiotics, herbal infusions, massages, sensory deprivation tanks, reflexology, music by Soft Cell, music by Siouxsie and the Banshees, music by The Thompson Twins, music by Patti Smith. Of course we're all dying, you'll never kiss someone who isn't dying, I know that, which is why the fear of this is not allowed to stop me from missing you the way I want. The streets were filled with men in wheelchairs that year. We were kids in love while you vanished in the funnel with them. The day after Summer Solstice I took our snowmen out of the freezer. 90 degrees, we melted quicker than expected, even sooner than I could have imagined. I burned the letters, mixed their ash with our slush. And I read to the puddle a poem that came to me years ago in a dream soon after you died: he wrote "I have AIDS / and kissed this wall" / X marked the spot / I wrote "I'm not afraid" / and kissed him back / wherever he is. I took many notes during the life of our snowmen in the freezer until they vanished. Those notes became a poem.

Monday, June 28, 2010


Juliana Spahr and Stephanie Young invited me to create (Soma)tic #43 for their piece A MEGAPHONE, forthcoming in CHAIN Magazine. Many thanks to Juliana and Stephanie.

"If you are very frank with yourself and don't mind how ridiculous anything that comes to you may seem, you will have a chance of capturing the symbol of your direct reaction. The antique way to live and express life was to say it according to the rules. But the modern flings herself at life and lets herself feel what she does feel, then upon the very tick of the second she snatches the images of life that fly through the brain." --Mina Loy in a 1917 interview

Gather twelve of your favorite books of poetry by living women poets. Divide your copy of Maria Raha's HELLIONS into twelve parts ("Uneasy Riders" is the name of chapter 7). HELLIONS is the perfect book to accompany this exercise. Talk to twelve women about visiting them. Tell them you will bring a box, and ask them to place a small object inside the box, something you're not to know about. It can be anything: a stone, button, shot glass, comb, lipstick, dildo, chalk, etc., but ask them to not tell you what it is. Ask them to sleep with it under their pillow the night before you visit. I told Maria Raha about this (Soma)tic exercise and asked her if twelve was too many, and she said, "If you don't know twelve women you need to SELF EXAMINE!" This is why it's good to ask Maria Raha. Twelve women it is! Take notes through the process of choosing the books of poetry, and visiting the twelve women to gather the objects. Write write write notes notes notes. After you have gathered the books by living women poets, and the box of twelve objects, set aside twelve consecutive days.

DAY ONE: As a preliminary, read the Loy quote aloud, then immediately watch Mary Wigman's 1914 dance HEXENTANZ on You Tube, and watch Wigman with the volume as LOUD as possible. Then read the first of the twelve sections you've created in HELLIONS. Climb into the bathtub, turn on the shower, open an umbrella, and lie down to read the first book of poems, pausing from time to time to YELL the poet's name! Take notes take notes. Reach inside your box and choose an object, but don't look at it. Smell it, rub it against you. Meditate with the object in the middle of your chest while thinking of the twelve women, water beating against the umbrella. SCREAM YOUR NAME with eyes closed in meditation. SCREAM YOUR NAME with eyes open. Harryette Mullen says, "proceed with abandon / finding yourself where you are". Look at the object. Do not put it back in the box, but do take more notes.

Choose a different location for each of the next eleven days. Stand in mud, hunch in the back seat of a car, in the basement with a candle, sit in a graveyard, on the steps of a courthouse, or stand facing the statue of a very dead old man. But be somewhere completely different each day. Before reading from HELLIONS, and the next book of poetry, and fondling an object in your box, read the Loy quote aloud, and watch Wigman's HEXENTANZ dance. Let these brilliant grandmothers loosen any knots, and always remember as Laura Riding says, "the words are only part of the poetic formula: the rest is ritual, and the reason in them must contend with the mechanics of magic-making in it – and must not win." Your notes might seem an endless chore of notes once you've completed your twelve days, but carry them around with you, and take more notes while reading them, putting them into a frame. The poem will come to you from those notes, it's in there, no doubt about it. You've infused the (Soma)tic with these others, and now your new poem is waiting.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010


for Ryan Trecartin and Lizzie Fitch

(Soma)tic #42 was written by CAConrad & Debrah Morkun.
There were three Trecartin films in Philadelphia in May of 2010 at The ICA, VOX Populi, and The Fabric Workshop Museum.

2 DAYS viewing Trecartin's films. DAY ONE: Before leaving home read from Franz Kafka's short story collection, if you don't own a copy, STOP, go buy one. Find a favorite sentence, like this one from Kafka's In the Penal Colony, "The Condemned Man especially seemed to be struck by a premonition of some sort of significant transformation." Cut this favorite sentence out, then cut this favorite sentence in half for later. Shred the rest of the book, pausing to TAKE NOTES about the love it takes to chop a book to pieces. Pages torn, sliced, then stuffed in your underwear, socks, bra (if you're a "man" get one, or find something to hold shreds of Kafka around your nipples). Wear something LOOSE so ONLY YOU know you are wearing Kafka, and let bits of the paper fall to the sidewalk as you walk to the gallery. And DO WALK to the gallery, working up a sweat with Kafka stuffed in your arm pits. At the gallery go into the restroom and suck on one half of your favorite sentence you cut earlier, then wrap it around a jelly bean or other candy YOU LOVE, making a Kafka candy decoupage. Do the same with the other half. NOW DRINK A FIVE HOUR ENERGY DRINK, then shove one of the Kafka candies up your ass, the Kafka candy decoupage now magically transformed into the Kafka candy decoupage suppository. Pop the other candy in your mouth. You now have your favorite Kafka sentence in you mouth, and up your ass. Sit down and watch the Trecartin film. TAKE NOTES TAKES NOTES. Grind
slowly in your seat, HOW DOES IT FEEL to have Kafka up inside your asshole while watching the Trecartin film? How does THAT feel? How is it? TAKE NOTES. When the Kafka candy in your mouth is gone TAKE NOTES and then suck the end of a chocolate bar, then write instant commands on your arm with the chocolate, like, "ENGINES RIP A PURR," or, "CRYSTAL FREQUENCIES," or "MAGICIAN'S ELIXIR," or, "ASCENDED BLOOD," then lick it off, suck it off, eat if off your arm your words. TAKE NOTES. Where are you in the film? Where are you actually? TAKE NOTES. Chew strands of Kafka shreds, then shove the wet balls up your nose. Breathe through your mouth and TAKES NOTES inside the Trecartin film, the film, Trecartin, it's there THE POEM IN THE NOTES. DAY TWO: Of course, it all starts, then, with a vision of Huckleberry's pelvis. & you're under his blankets, but those blankets are really the Mississippi River. For a moment, too, they are the Delaware, & then the Schuykill. And you're swimming but floating. This is to visualize first thing in the morning on the day you set aside for the (Soma)tic. Breathe thru your nose, and out through your mouth, and picture Huckleberry and then a boy from the future, however you imagine him. Become him and become the eye thru which he sees. See Huckleberry and then the boy from the future and then yourself getting stuck in the Mississipedia... or web-internet river, for lack of a better term. Feel your body turn to cobblestone and then to rust and then to internet marginalia. Say your favorite god's name three times, and then light a candle. Go to the computer screen and dial up Youtube. First watch Nick Cave singing "Saint Huck" live. Then, watch a video of people voguing. Next, leave your home. Walk to a store where they sell balloons, and select a balloon that speaks to you. It must be one you can blow up yourself. Then, go to a Philadelphia tourist shop and buy a fake copy of the Declaration of Independence. Write the words "Jingo," "oil spill," and "hallucinogen" somewhere on it. Then, roll it up like a scroll and put it in your underwear. Next, as you walk or ride to the museum, appreciate your body as a steamship. Feel steam emanating from all of your orbs. Buy some Wild Turkey whiskey on your way. Take a swig in a secret location of your choice somewhere near the museum, and spill an offering of it on the ground. Say, "to the cattle. to crazy horse." Go to the museum. Sit and watch the Trecartin film transfixed. Take notes that feel like ether. Take notes that feel like gut dust. scattalogical notes. remember there is the declaration of independence at your base. write about this. let your writing come from the steam of the body and from the base of the heart. take notes until you feel like you might disappear. Somewhere in the middle of all this writing, take a break to blow up the balloon. Notice your breath and how blowing up this balloon relates to the film at hand. Write about this. Know that you are every person in the Trecartin film. When you are finished writing, prick your finger with a small blade of some kind, and mark the last page with your blood. Become blood brothers with the page. Dot the page with memory blood. NOW take your notes YOUR NOTES from both days of TRECARTIN ALLELUJIAH DEVIANCE and find the poem that poem, find, it, it is in there, the poem.

Monday, May 31, 2010

JULY 2010 Philadelphia workshop


There are a limited number of participants for the July 11th (Soma)tic Poetry Workshop. ALL DETAILS ARE HERE.

Thanks, see you soon,

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

COURTNEY, thanks again!

Courtney Shumway continues an amazing (Soma)tic study through film. This is with Jordon Cecil, and is based on (Soma)tic Exercise #23, click HERE. Thank you for this!

Monday, May 24, 2010


for David Wolach & Elizabeth Williamson

Before taking a trip to San Francisco I purchased garlic and crackers from plants grown and harvested in California, then shipped 3,000 miles to Philadelphia. I asked the pilot to tell us when we were over California, and he was nice and did so. After millions of years of evolution we can fly thousands of feet above the earth. NO I don't want to watch a stupid movie during the flight, NO I don't want to read a stupid magazine, I'm THOUSANDS of feet in the air LOOK at those clouds! Don't be so stupid, look at the clouds! When our rotten bodies die and evaporate we will join them. Clouds are trillions of cells of water who were once dinosaurs, eagles, and many stupid and brilliant people. All rotten in the end, festering into a final breath, the final breath itself a wisp of vapor that rose to join our family of clouds. It's so disgusting it becomes its own special beauty! I want to vomit, a sickness the ultimate honor bestowed! Is there something wrong with the word "nice?" Well I like it, and the pilot was nice and announced when we were flying over California. Everyone around me was hypnotized by the stupid movie, the beautiful actors speaking the writer's boring script about relationships and dishonesty. It's true, as a species we are so narcissistic the planet stands little chance surviving unless it can prove to make us more beautiful and improve our love lives. And I pressed the garlic against the window, garlic that traveled 6,000 miles round trip, California to Philadelphia, and back again, what a ridiculous world! Little bit of garlic soaring thousands of feet above the fields where it was born, and I licked it and sucked it, finally bit it in half and chewed it. I brought it all the way back home to eat it and make it become my body, feed my cells. And the crackers. Chewing and slowly tasting the soil and texture of the land. Tasting the wind that blew its fingers through the stalks and stems, cricket songs, birds, all these vibrations are in the plants quietly growing with an enormous family of plants in the moonlight and rain and metallic scent of lightning. It's all in there, chewing it all in there. I chew it and chew it and my rotten body will die one day but I love it here. I love this world, I'm so angry that I have to die and leave it. Suicides irritate me the most, I wish I could take their unwanted leftovers, stupid fucking idiot suicides as though life isn't short enough. Chew this world, it's incredibly delicious. Fuck you for not paying attention. Don't speak to me if all you have is something stupid to say. I chewed the inside of my mouth, chewed some of my meat loose and mixed it with garlic and chips, went into the bathroom and spit it into the toilet, added piss, snot and semen. Then flushed it into the sky, rushed back to the window as the movie credits played and everyone told everyone how good the movie was. My notes from practicing this exercise became a poem.

Friday, April 2, 2010


for Jocelyn Saidenberg & Rob Halpern

Gather sand from the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. When I collected sand in Atlantic City I meditated with the ocean for an hour, then dug a hole, placed a quartz crystal in the hole, covered it with sand and crystal-infused water (Fiji water). I repeated this ritual at Ocean Beach in San Francisco. During both rituals I was conscious of facing AWAY from America. East and AWAY! West and AWAY! Migration of senses, their capacities perceived and pursued. Back home, using a compass, I positioned the head of my bed north for 4 nights of concentrated ocean dream enhancement. Night 1: Atlantic sand in a cloth under my pillow with a continuous recording of ocean tides playing from the east. I drank crystal-infused water to better remember my dreams. As soon as I woke I took my notes DO NOT DO ANYTHING PEE CRY ANSWER THE PHONE MAKE LOVE until you have taken your notes. Night 2: Repeat ritual, except use Pacific sand in a fresh cloth under the pillow and play ocean tide from the west. Night 3: Repeat ritual, except have both cloths of sand under the pillow and play ocean tides from east and west. As you begin to doze, listen for when the tides match pace, your body between them, America between them. Night 4: Mix the sand in a fresh cloth for the pillow, then play ocean tides from east, west, north, and south. Set the alarm to wake in the middle of the night, move your head south, sand now at your feet in the north. Gather your four rounds of notes and sculpt your poem.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

THE AMAZING Courtney Shumway!!!!


This beautiful digital art is by Courtney Shumway, using a bit of my (Soma)tic text. Below is Courtney's (Soma)tic Project with video! ENJOY!

Thanks Courtney for making my day!!!!


The first in the new series of videos is up!


For those of you who I haven't talked to about this project, I am working on a series of videos based off of poet CA Conrad's (Soma)tic Poetry exercises - more information on these works can be found here:


For the videos, I am engaging in each of the (Soma)tic Poetry Exercises ( http://somaticpoetryexercises.blogspot.com/ ) with individual artists, in whatever way seems appropriate, remains true to the practice, and results in some digital poetic love.

Ideally, each experiment will result in:
1) a unique interpersonal experience
2) a poem
3) a video

As with the Four Seasons piece, this project is being organized in an "Object-Free" manner, so if you are interested in participating, however you choose to interface with it will work. For example, here's a link to a video my friend Narayan did to kick us off a few weeks ago:


Does it fit the structure of the piece? Not a bit. Is it part of the experiment? Obviously...

I hope all of you will consider joining this project as participating artists. There is room within the structure for all manner of performers, artists, dreamers, and risk-takers, even if you have never identified as a poet. Keep in touch regarding scheduling over the next several months. If you are out-of-state...whatever...let's work something out...we're creative people, right?

Incredible, abundant love and thanks to Quinn Myers, for being the first to offer up his time, experience, and poetry to my digital machine.

Let the new cycle begin!
~ Revolotus

Monday, March 15, 2010


This new (Soma)tic was created by THE AMAZING students at Evergreen College in Olympia, Washington. Students who created it include Camille Euritt, Maren Anderson, Jane Rubinstein, Ally Simmons, Will Owen, Franny Waldear, Zoe Hosmer-Dillard, Erin Tanner, Paige Clifton-Steele, Brian Fligner, Alexa Carson, Maryam Gunja, Kate Robinson, Nicky Tiso, Nicolas Lofredo, Adrienne Wilson, LeiF NePstad, Alex Dreyer, Maxamia Codella, Zach Fraser, Aba Kiser, Philip G. Taylor, Sean Ray ariel Caining, Duncan Wold Marsh. Many thanks to professors David Wolach and Elizabeth Williamson for inviting me to conduct the workshop.

Find something in your fridge. Smell it. Listen. Find a sound. Get as close to the sound as possible. Imitate the sound as you smell the object. Take notes. (Notes should mimic the sound. Continue taking notes until the smell has faded completely.) Leave the object, go to a familiar place with grass in an urban environment. Think about how it would taste. Now taste it. Lie on the grass and look out through the grass. Slowly tilt your head upward – expanding your horizon. Close your eyes and chew the grass slowly. Spit the grass out and look carefully at the grass, the dirt, the grubs, the sky. Alternate between seeing and tasting, tasting and seeing, both, neither. Taste the grass at a variance of altitudes. Standing, sitting, kneeling, prone. Taste all the parts of the grass, leaf, stock, root. Clutch the grass in your hand while concealing your left eye. Migrate the grass from your navel up to your pupil and then exchange the role of the hand from covering to embracing the object. Take your notes and using the THE FILTERS "Crystal" and "Altitude" write your poem.

Saturday, February 6, 2010


for the psychic legacy of Hannah Weiner

Don't be afraid of the MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) machine, it's an amazing opportunity for a poem. I created this exercise after my knee was injured by a homophobic bus driver in Philadelphia. Astral travel is possible with some dedicated preparation. The MRI machine needs our water molecules in our bodies for the imaging process, the electromagnetic field literally shifting the alignment of the protons of our body-water. Drink only crystal-infused water for a week before your MRI, drink no other water, and drink it as often as you can. Look at the label for "silica" content, found in such brands as Evian and Fiji. It's important to saturate the body with as much crystal water as possible leading up to the day of the MRI. Choose a place you will visit for your psychic or astral visit (a room in your home for instance). For the week leading up to your MRI, each time you enter your chosen space STOP at the entrance, and take a long look around. Then close your eyes and imagine what you saw. Open your eyes and notice what you missed when imagining what you saw, for it is the missing things you will incorporate each time you repeat this exercise until you have gathered the entire space in your mind. The space I chose is a street in Philadelphia, a place I know more than any other place on our planet. For years I have been gathering the minute details of this one stretch of street: gutters, glass, bricks, trees, newspaper boxes, all the many details. Every time I walk to this street I prepare myself to STOP and drink it in, and notice something new to add to this growing landscape in my mind. On the day of your MRI sit and listen to music by Elvis Presley for an hour or so. Elvis Presley is being used ALL OVER OUR PLANET for healing. When I wrote my book Advanced Elvis Course there were many people I met who use Elvis to heal bodies and spirits, and when you listen to Elvis you tap into that collective use of His powers. The song I listened to on repeat before my MRI was "I Got A Feeling In My Body," with the refrain, "I got a feeling in my body / This will be our lucky day / We'll be releasing all our sorrow / Leave it layin' along the way." Elvis assists in setting the crystal-infused water molecules right for the MRI machine. Take notes take many notes all week long leading up to your RADIANT ELVIS MRI. Depending on the type of scan which is needed you may have as much as half an hour in the machine, and this is good! Let yourself relax for a few minutes. Take some deep breaths and relax. When the pulse of the machine amps up and begins to shift the alignment of your crystal-laden water molecules SEE the space you have been memorizing for the past week. SEE IT. Look at all the details you have been studying. The longer you keep inside this space the quicker and easier you will GO THERE. Go, and don't be afraid to leave your body behind you to do so. Make yourself sit, stand, jump, float, BE in that space in all ways. Find words if you can, like Hannah Weiner found on foreheads, look for words to remember. You'll know how to come back, don't worry yourself. Make sure you have a notebook ready to write in as soon as you get out of the machine. Leave the office and find a place to sit and take notes about your experience for your poem.

Monday, January 4, 2010


for THE AMAZING Penny Arcade

(this exercise's poems are a chapbook from MONDO BUMMER)

(the photo of Penny by Jasmine Hirst)

There must be a piece of art near where you live that you enjoy, even LOVE! A piece of art that IF THERE WAS WAR you would steal it and hide it in your little apartment. I'm going to PACK my apartment TO THE ROOF when war comes! This exercise needs 7 days, but not 7 consecutive days as most museums and galleries are not open 7 days a week. At the Philadelphia Museum of Art hangs the Mark Rothko "Orange, Red and Yellow, 1961," a painting I would marry and cherish in sickness and in health, have its little Rothko babies, hang them on the wall with their father, and a portrait of my breasts to feed them at any hour. For 7 days I sat with my dearest Rothko. The security guards will think you're odd when you come for 7 days to sit and meditate. Never mind that, bribe them with candy, cigarettes or soda, whatever it takes to be left in peace. Bring binoculars because you will get closer to the painting than anyone else in the room! Feel free to fall in love with what you see, you're a poet, you're writing a poem, go ahead and fall in love! Feel free to go to the museum restroom and touch yourself in the stall, you may not be allowed to touch the paintings but they can't stop you from touching yourself, fantasizing touching and being touched by them. And be sure to write on the restroom wall that you were there and what you were doing as everyone enjoys a dedication to the details in museums. And be certain to leave your number, you never know what other art lover will be reading. When you return REMEMBER THAT there is no museum in the world with rules against the use of binoculars, information you may need for the guards if you run out of cigarettes and candy. Map your 7 days with extravagant enhancements: mint leaves to suck, chocolate liqueurs, cotton balls between your toes, firm-fitting satin underwear, things you can rock-out with (in secret) for the art you love. Take notes, there must be a concentration in note-taking in your pleasure-making. Never mind how horrifying your notes may become, horror and pleasure have an illogical mix when you touch yourself for art. Once you gather your 7 days of notes together you will see the poem waiting to be pulled out of a long and energizing dream.