The Promised Return to CAConrad

I have to finish the CAConrad sequence I started on quite awhile ago now. Two Post ago I introduced CAConrad as the lyrical Chuck Norris. Boom! I also posted one of his exercises and my poem that followed from his exercise. But I was tired of being Robin and stole the keys to the BATMOBILE! (Or  more accurately just wrote my own Somatic Exercise.)

The

Rub-a-dub-Grub Exercise

            Go to your local super market, the store you shop at regularly where you know exactly what you need on each aisle without even making a list. Preferably go at a time when you are not extraordinarily famished. Spend a bit of time aimlessly wondering the store, shop with no needs. Shop with no shopping list. What does the grocery store feel like when you need no groceries? Pick a smaller section of the store, one aisle that contains one of your dietary staples. Observe all you can about this aisle. How are the foods grouped? Do they all look the same? Are they all the same product just with different brands? Pay attention. Write. As you study your aisle try and find something you have never noticed before. An item you did not ever see sitting right by your regular stop on this aisle. What is this item? Describe it. Really describe it. Think about all the people that mindlessly zip down your aisle grab this item and run past your go-to food. Do you think lots of people have missed this item or just you? Purchase said item and bring home for part B.

            As you bring your new food home think about all the people who cannot leave the store without this item. Who do you think puts this item at the top of their grocery list every week? Now open the food. Close your eyes and smell. Write. Does it smell familiar or foreign? Stick your finger in the item, what do you feel? Does it feel weird to play with this food? With your eyes still closed try the item. Be aware of the full orgastic pleasure palate of eating. Texture, temperature, taste, write, write, write. Where do you think this food is made? Are the workers happy to be making X, or is the kitchen it is made the pits? Who is working in this kitchen? Can you taste the temperate of those who prepared it? Now eat it with a few things you typically eat with say lunch or dinner. Make it a part of a normal meal. Now eat it with what you think the people who regularly buy this item typically eat it with. Who are these people? What does their dinner look like? Do they eat alone? In front of the TV? Full course meals or frozen meals? Imagine, be the voyeur of voyeurs. Be Whitman magically flying table to table. Be them. Eat. Imagine. Write some scribbles. Transcend one final time away into the world’s dinner table.

            Now write a poem.

Usually I detest Puns, but its Friday...

And here is what my own Somatic Exercise lead me too....

Skinny Love

All the hands that touched—

a hand for every curl

my hands empty

hearts bare

your hands scented

hearts bare

The last of a generation that believes

it IS a truth universally acknowledged

spritzed and stacked on the hour

motion sensor lights and desire on the first aisle

we are not allowed to be here

only what I can carry in my two hands for every curl

Will you stand still

open yourself to the gentle indifference of the world

native moments             our indecent calls

                                                                        Silence           

            pour a little salt

            we were never here

all my hands for one curl

to which you reply:

“yours is a responsive part in the litany of love”

A hand for every curl