The Hunter, the Bear & Little Red Cape"

I am so honored that artist Ericka Resnick was so taken by my poem "The Hunter, the Bear & Little Red Cape" that she created a brand new assemblage for the "Ekphrasis" exhibit to accompany my poem.

The Hunter, The Bear and Little Red Cape

You may think you know this tale. But you don’t. 

That you’ve heard it as a child. But be assured you haven’t.

It may sound familiar, but there is no big bad wolf 

or grandmother. Just a flirty girl in a red cape. 

Once upon a time there was a hunter –– a gatherer really, for he preferred 

animals as companions rather than food –– who lived in the deep of the forest.

He was always on the search for a wolf, for he thought these magical 

and sleek animals were the most beautiful of God’s creations. But alas,
wolves were scarce in his part of the world and he began to abandon hope. 

One day the hunter came upon a black bear tangled in a trap. He rescued the awkward 

animal, nursed it back to health and kept it for himself. The two slowly built a companionship 

and understanding, and before he realized it, four years had dripped through the hour

glass. The hunter always knew deep in his throbbing heart that this was not what 

he wanted. But he found comfort in the bear’s company. And that would suffice for now. 

There were things about the bear that annoyed the hunter –– his social clumsiness,
his dozing at inappropriate times. They would cuddle by the fire, but the bear’s fur 

was too bristly and his belly too big for the hunter’s liking. He would put on a smile
and whisper what the bear wanted to hear, for he knew the bear liked these together 

moments. The hunter only wanted to make his friend happy, for he truly loved his bear. 

The beginning of the end of the hunter and bear came one virgin spring 

day in the form of a seductress. The hunter returned to his cottage earlier than usual 

to find a young girl talking to his pal. She wore a long red cape that flittered

behind her when she moved from foot to foot and carried a basket of goodies.
The hunter hid behind a wise tree and watched the exchange unnoticed.

“What beautiful fur you have,” purred the girl slowly caressing the bear’s back.

“All the better to keep you warm on a cold winter’s night,” replied the bear with a wink.

“And what a handsome belly you have,” she gaped rubbing it and batting her auburn lashes.

“All the better to cushion your head with my dear,” flirted back the bear. The girl stuck her hand in the basket and pulled out a finger. The bear licked at it gluttonously eliciting a spur of titters.

“You’re cute,” giggled the girl, turning away from the hulking animal and moving toward

whence she came. Before dancing away, she turned once again, tossed the bear a kiss, 

then skipped off humming a foolish ditty. The bear smiled from ear to ear,

then began rolling around in the clover and humming the tune the girl left him. 

The hunter watched his friend magically come to life before his eyes.

The bear was oblivious to his approach and sniffed ravenously at the air savoring 

the disappearing scent.  “Who was that?” asked the hunter trying to contain the rollercoaster 

in his voice. Soured butterflies rebounded off his gullet frantically searching for a way out. 

“A girl on an errand,” tepidly replied the bear. “She stopped to say hello.” He went back
to wobbling in the clover, ignoring the hunter, who reluctantly went to his cottage.

The next day, the hunter returned from his routine only to find the bear nowhere

to be seen. He called and called but there was no response. He spotted a tiny pot

at the foot of the wood’s trail. It was empty, turned on it’s side, and the sticky remains

bled onto the earth. Honey –– something the hunter rarely fed his bear. “Of course,”

he told himself, tears –– like realizations –– welled in his eyes. “Bears love honey.”

The hunter didn’t leave his cottage –– not so comfy anymore –– for a full week falling
into a deep depression at the loss of his bear buddy. He couldn’t eat –– for all food tasted

of drained pine needles. He drank flagons of mead to drown out the jolly memories

of his simple friend and to erase those of the bitter boff of the girl in the red cape. He couldn’t
shake the image of the bear licking her finger. But on the last day, it all became clear.

The girl was the true hero of this tale. Not him. She freed his bear from a life of hoping
and hanging on. She made him feel special in a way that the hunter never could. Adored
the things about him that the hunter never did. He took a deep breath and wiped his dry

tears. He dressed in his freshest finery, opened the door, and once again began the search 

for his wolf. The bear and the girl found it. Now it was time for his own happily ever after.

— Robert P. Langdon

Poem copyright Robert P. Langdon and may not be used, in any part, without permission of Robert P. Langdon

“Faire des Choix”

Erica Resnick

Mixed Media Assemblage

32” x 16”

Artwork inspired by the poem The Hunter, The Bear and Little Red Cape

Image copyright Erica Resnick. Image may not be used without the permission of the artist.

"Well worn shoes"

One of my favorite photographers Jada Fabrizio submitted this piece for the 'Ekphrasis." It really spoke to me and I created a new poem inspired by her photograph.

“Well worn shoes”

Jada Fabrizio

Photography 

25” x 19.5”

Image copyright Jada Fabrizio. Image may not be used without the permission of the artist.

Well Worn Shoes

These shoes have been worn well and are well worn.

They have mentored and lifted. Walked me through
the awkwardness of adolescence into the assurance of adulthood.

They have marched to protest cruelty and wars.

I never had fashion sense, so it’s fit that they suit all occasion. 

These shoes gave me the confidence I needed to capture a crowd.

They confirmed in me that the path I had taken was the right one. So 

I walked through life wearing out these shoes and they have served me well.

Then one day I tired of the old school buckles. The worn-in vamp
creases from years of standing on my toes to reach higher. The splitting welt.
Widening quarter. Toe cap scuff marks. The frayed topline —
all records of what I had accomplished and of my value over the decades. 

But I wanted a new pair with stronger laces and a healthier shine. So I have spent
these past ten years trying on new styles like a wandering Cinderfella.
Testing new fads only to realize that I looked ridiculous in a half boot.
That wingtips didn’t make me soar and that thicker soles made me chunky.

So I slipped back into my comfortable well worn shoes. But they are no longer
relevant. They’re too old to be stylish and not old enough to be vintage.  No one
wants to own a pair of well worn shoes anymore. So I watch as they fall 

apart beneath my feet. Until just the inner worn down soul remains.

— Robert P. Langdon

Poem inspired by the artwork Well worn shoes

poem copyright Robert P. Langdon. Poem may not be used, in any part, without permission of Robert P. Langdon

"Cut You Out"

I am so honored that one of my favorite photographers, Jada Fabrizio, was inspired to create a new piece of art for my poem "Cut You Out" as part of the "Ekphrasis: Art & Words" exhibit.

Cut You Out

I am skilled in the art of silence.

Those who’ve done me wrong will figure it out.

I’ll close off, cut them out like a pattern and disappear.

It’s what I know.

My mother made it clear to me that she was upset by saying
“Don’t talk to me,” or simply by not speaking. 

Her quiet could last for hours and she would ignore

me like an ant whenever I dared to speak to her.

I didn’t always know what I did wrong and my mind

would question everything I said or how I acted. I’d exhaust
my emotions and then just wait until it was over

when she would let me back in and speak again.

I always wished she had chased me through the house

with a wooden spoon or belt. Released her anger

with a scream that explained what I did wrong

and why I shouldn’t do it again.

The pink skinned shine of a spanking will heal quickly

but the scars of unsung silence can last forever. 

I never learned a lesson from these unspoken arguments

except how to protect myself by bypassing communication.

In the past I have cut people out of my life.

I have regrets. Of not offering a proper goodbye. 

Of being too stubborn to give in and have that one

conversation that could have wiped the slate clean. 

But this is what I know. It’s what I’ve been taught.

As an adult I’ve worked hard to turn this pattern
around and discovered the gift of communication.
I say what needs to be said and let it go.

But today I find myself returning to my silence after all these years.

Find myself beginning to cut you out by not returning your calls

and answering your texts with one curt word.

Being aloof until you realize my silence.

You –– the person who has taught me more than anyone

the healing value of expression when something is wrong.

The elixir of words when the silence is deafening. The one

who grounded me when the scenarios in my head ran rampant. 

I’m still charting my way through this new relationship we share.

Through this transition from lovers to friends.

But I’m having a difficult time letting you move on. Watching you

blossom and find others who don’t take your enthusiasm for granted.

I’ve returned to my teen ways of protection

and burdened you with my unnecessary silence.

With my passive aggressiveness that has laid dormant
caged away and labeled “ways of the past.”

You don’t deserve my silence. You don’t deserve my detachment.

I don’t want to cut you out, so when your phone rings

and you see it’s me, please pick up. I’m an adult again.

And I’m ready to talk.

— Robert P. Langdon

poem copyright Robert P. Langdon. Poem may not be used without permission of Robert P. Langdon

“i cut you out”

Jada Fabrizio

Photography and Mixed Media

19.5” x 15.5”

Artwork inspired by the poem Cut You Out

Image copyright Jada Fabrizio. Image may not be used without the permission of the artist.

Ekphrasis: Art & Words

I am really pleased to let you know about an exhibition I have curated, with the help of poet Gwyneth Green, called 'Ekphrasis: Art & Words." It is on exhibit at Gallery U in Westfield, NJ through May 2, 2016. Please come by to check it out! I will be reading my poetry this Sunday, April 17, 2016, at Gallery U along with Gwynneth and John J Trause. Please join us at 2 PM.

Here is the exhibition statement:

The power of one form of art over another fascinates me. I have always believed that many art forms — visual arts, literary arts, music — carry the influence of those that came before them, and it’s always exciting for me to discover the little tidbits of one artist informing another. In a sense, carrying on the influence of an artist in one’s own work is the greatest homage to any artist. 

For the past few years I have been creating photographs influenced and inspired by my own poetry, so I was pleased when poet Gwyneth Green informed me of her own similar project where she creates poetry inspired by the artwork of her friends. She had an extensive collection of ekphrasis poems and artwork so Gwynneth’s work became the seed of the ekphrasis project at Gallery U.

Ekphrasis is traditionally used to describe a literary form — a commentary on art or a poem inspired by a piece of art. But for this project, I wanted to include the reversal as well, especially since poetry can be very visual and has the power to inspire visual arts. My other goal was to change the common perception that poetry is inaccessible and to use visual arts to help the reader to experience the power of words on another level. 

I invited a few artists — both visual artists and poets — with whom I have worked over the years in the hopes that their art would inspire one another to create. All of the artists and poets that are participating in Ekphrasis rely heavily on visuals and I knew that pairing their art form with another would be successful. And I wasn’t disappointed.

Ekphrasis holds something or everyone in both visual and written forms. There is poetry of great emotion that is made even more emotional by the accompanying artwork. And there is also artwork that may be emotional at first glance but  the viewer realizes a whimsy side after reading the poem created to accompany it. 

I wish to personally thank the pool of talent that came together to make Ekphrasis one of my favorite exhibitions to date, and especially to those artists who brought my own poetry to life and to another level. I am truly humbled by the experience. I like to especially thank Gwyneth Green who put the bug in my ear. I have been told by many artists that they were challenged with the topic but in a way that was a great creative reward. It is my hope that I can curate an ekphrasis exhibition next year on a greater scale. In the meantime, please read through this catalog and spend some time looking deep into both the poetry and artwork to see the connections made between the artists and poets. And possibly discover your own connections. 

Robert P. Langdon, Curator

April 2016

New review from Out In Print

A big thank you to Jerry at Out In Print for the fantastic review of my book "The Candied Road Ahead: Poems & Stories". You can read the review below and purchase the book by clicking here or through many other fine on-line retailers. Please check out Out In Print by clicking here. 

"Growing up gay and Catholic is not easy, as witnessed by countless books by men and women who have done just that. Drawing inspiration from “Grimm’s Fairy Tales,” Brooke Shields, John and Yoko, Diane Arbus, adolescence, care of elderly parents, and shopping malls, Langdon creates worlds that are heartbreakingly accurate–as pointed as they are occasionally humorous. His experiences are, perhaps, no different than ours, but he has a particularly warped point of view. Sometimes the warp is for comic effect–most often in the stories/monologues at the end of the collection–but that warp pokes its scaly head up for some deliciously awkward and telling moments in his poetry. I’m thinking of the poignancy in “My Father’s Naked Body” and “Life Support,” or the oddly erotic “Dentist,” or his ruminations on the differences between gay men, “Gay Like Me” or “Alone Still.” Langdon’s images are crisp and his intent straightforward, as in this snippet from “The Past is Hunting Me”: The past is hunting me./Blooms in my old room/like a snail./It leaves cum smears/on the mattress./Feasts on fallen/lint from my navel./Redecorates and makes use/of every stained corner.It follows me to work/like a ratted dog. This volume is the first I’d heard of Langdon, and as far as I can determine, it’s his only collection, but he’s a poet to be reckoned with and you should definitely seek this one out."

My entry to this year's Postcards From the Edge

I'm really pleased to be part of this year's Postcards From the Edge exhibition that shows this weekend. This is a really fantastic yearly event that raises money for artists with HIV. Each postcard sized piece of art is exhibited anonymously, and the identity of the artist is revealed only after the work is purchased.  Each piece is sold for $85. You can walk away with a piece by a famous artist, or someone making their debut. Whether you are going to purchase art or not, it's worth a visit to see the thousands of entries and styles and to support such a worthy cause. My piece is a hand cut collage of mannequin photographs I have taken over the years. This is my fourth year participating in the event and I believe this is my best entry yet. More info here

Reading in Rutherford, September 3, 2014

I'm very pleased to announce that I will be reading my poem, "The Greek and the Outcast" tomorrow night (9/3) at Williams Center for the Arts in Rutherford. The poem was accepted for publication in The Red Wheel Barrow #7. The event is a release party and will feature various poets included in the issue. Please join me for an evening of creative words. ALL are welcome.