4 April 2005 | Vol. 5, No. 1


And as you stumble out of the bar into tequila dawn

and the cacti are tipped with fine sharp frost

and the sand is cold under the dark of your shoes

and you were told ever since you could walk

never to look directly at the sun

but you do

you stand on the rocks and do

and you were told you would go blind

except for a burning disk

in the center of all the darkness

and you pretend you have never been here before

but through all your denials you have returned

and in the receding cold of today you are sweating

your hair is very long you are not very old

and at that one time when you decided

to change your life you really did

you fell in love and never came back

About the author:

Kevin Conder lives in Portland, Oregon with his wife, baby daughter, and a Jack Russell Terrier. He is the author of two books: The Yellow Earth and, the, as yet, unpublished memoir, The Rock Star. His poetry has appeared/will appear in several literary magazines, such as Pedestal Magazine, North American Review, Snow Monkey, and the Pacific Review. Among other jobs, he has taught English to a variety of students from China, Yugoslavia, and Russia while living in Stockholm, Sweden. Kevin holds a BA in Philosophy from UCSB and a MFA in creative writing from the University of Arizona.

For further reading:

See the complete list of work by Kevin Conder at 42opus. Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 5, No. 1, where "Sun" ran on April 4, 2005. List other work with these same labels: poetry.

42opus is an online magazine of the literary arts.

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