Kenneth A. Silver

My published memoir takes us back to my first collection of poetry. I wasn’t quite

fourteen, and I had already bombed in Brooklyn. Though I was licensed to practice law, I spent

many years circling the globe with my camera gear, always photographing the different and the

special. As time went by, the different was slowly disappearing beneath a veil of “sameness”. It

started at a remote tribe, buried deep in the jungle, that I arranged to photograph, and a native

boy in his “I Love New York” t-shirt. In one way or another, I began to see him in that t-shirt

everywhere I went. The result was Endangered, the first of many solo gallery exhibits which

featured several photo essays to accompany my photos. I continued to compile my photographic

record and a journal of photo essays, which began to feel like a swan song that only existed in

my writing. The kid who bombed in Brooklyn must have been working behind my back, because

I was busy writing poetry again. My memoir, in fact, is introduced by two of my narrative

poems. By 2008 I resolved that my voice was best served—and best heard—through the voice

that guides my pen. I am currently writing my third novel, though every now and then my photo

studio does come ahaunting.