Try State contributor Robert P. Langdon releases new collection of poetry and stories

Try State contributor Robert P. Langdon has released a new collection of poetry and stories. We have published Robert's work in Try State Issue #1 and #2 and highly recommend this collection. You can order your copy here.

With The Candied Road Ahead, Robert P. Langdon shares select poems and stories written over a 25 year period. His works are sometimes passionate, sometimes whimsical, but always personal. Langdon's writing focuses on life experiences and memories of family and friends; identity; growing up gay and Catholic during the 1980s; pop culture; social issues; love and relationships. 

Inside The Candied Road Ahead, you’ll find a sexual awakening with the help of Brooke Shields and John & Yoko; the consequence of urban sprawl; one-way phone conversations that prove you can't teach an old dog new tricks (or can you?); a new take on a classic fairy tale; a modern version of happily ever after; an erotic trip to the dentist; and something a little creepy. 

Here is a sample of Robert's work that we published in Try State issue #2:

Truth Or Dare

Jim M. Showed me how to masturbate.

One childhood day -- the summer thick 

around us -- he lay me on his dad’s bench press,

the pleather frigid as a 5th grader.

Grabbed my budding gland -- already awake

with anticipation -- and jerked up and down

down and up like a pogostick. I sprung up

with the sensation invading my body.

He nudged me down with his free hand.

“Relax,” he whispered. I closed my eyes

letting this delicacy introduce itself

as Blondie cooed in my ears.

The tingling rose like a rollercoaster climbing

higher and higher reaching for that final drop.

I let go with a quiver and gasp.

An uncontrollable pop. And it was over.

He reached for his dad’s dirty

magazine hidden under the workbench

seat. Opened it next to my

bewildered pubic and pointed.

The 70s spread showed a burly man shooting

banners of the substance dribbled on my belly

-- thick as the blue eyeliner on the gaping

woman keeling at his feet.

“It’s called jizz,” he said

rubbing it around my belly like finger paint.

I lay spread under his touch

gulping the air heavy with the scent of Jergens.

We continued our game into high school. Until the dares

rang true. For me, they are the truth.

For Jim M. truth stays stashed at the bottom

of his toolbox buried from his wife and buddies.

Buried until the next time a few drinks resurrect

longings for those boyhood days.

Until the next time a discreet stranger

offers a hand and jump starts the truth.