August is the month I take a break from posting on social media... much to the relief of my family 🙂
I'll spend time taking photos, writing poems, and rooting for the Mets -- and, most importantly, creating memories with family and friends. I'll get back to other projects and social media posts after Labor Day.
Until then, I'm posting three poems here because so far in 2025 I've been inspired by writing friends, new and old. I love what they've shared, so in return let me share what I love... beginning with a poem written today, based on a "hotter than a matchhead" prompt from the Gotham Writers Workshop, a New York-based group you should check out, offering free Zoom write-ins every Friday.
Here's a snapshot of "Why Devils in Jersey Are So Overfed":
Here's a second poem I recently revised after a photo from five years ago at an immersive VanGogh exhibit randomly popped up on my iPhone's home screen:
Finally, here's an experiment in ekphrastic poetry -- that is, a poem inspired by a work of art in another medium. I recently applied for... and won... a "residency" at the Madison NJ Community Arts Center. (Check out their events calendar!) The center chose 12 poets to participate in The Writing LAB Fall Residency, which this year will focus on writing new work inspired by music.
The length of the residency? A single Sunday afternoon in September. I'm excited about the opportunity, but I'll be sure to pack light!
During a recent open mic at the Puffin Cultural Forum (another group you should check out) in Teaneck NJ, I was captivated by an exhibit of photos and poems presented by ALTE: Getting Old Together. I took a photo of a print on display by Judith Sokoloff, who captured someone in a King Kong suit in Times Square, circa 2023. The leader of the forum's open mic that night, the great Toney Jackson, suggested I write a poem about it.
So I did. And, funny thing, the poem's theme is about getting older too.
King Gone
Once upon a time
I brushed airplanes from my eyes.
I terrorized ordinary men,
protected fair-haired women,
captured the imagination of the young,
while framed in Technicolor:
like the Northern Lights,
the harbor of Rio de Janeiro,
the Grand Canyon,
Mount Everest,
the Great Barrier Reef,
volcanic Paricutin in Mexico,
Victoria Falls.
I was the 8th wonder of the world.
Beyond male,
beyond female,
the link between man and beast,
adult and child,
good and bad,
primitive and civilized,
black and white.
Am I not immortal?
Or is it my fate
day-by-day, year-after-year
to recede into the crowd,
to roam Times Square
as an Instagram curiosity.
A diminishing freak.
Hear my defiant roar.
New York City may try
to swallow me whole,
a miniature version
of my former self.
Yet I refuse to disappear.
Let this poem be a warning:
These words are my transcendence.
I am still to be feared.
