Saturn.1 Poem by CAConrad

butterfly on a tissue box
not a real one
a painting
a monarch
one more sign
for anguish
poured and
poured a choice to feel or
stack bricks between
I was sad when my
talented friend started designing
television commercials
he told me to grow up
but the rocks in the desert I touch
signal an endless new place something
without money saying "never tire of
demanding love for the world"