NUCLEAR POETRY Reading

I’m sitting in front of the closed doors to the downstairs lounge at Elmo Restaurant & Lounge, where nervous poets are scurrying by with an air of seriousness – the atmosphere is tense and exciting. Looking into the doors’ opaque windows, all I can see is what looks like a cosmic pulsing of purple and yellow light, which only builds the anticipation for me, and the over thirty others waiting for doors to open. Finally, it’s time to enter the realm of Nuclear Poetry, a literary show organized by thirty-one year-old writer Aaron Wimmer.

The inside of the lounge is quite a spectacle, with mirrors on the ceiling, candles lining the room – placed carefully in front of the giant paintings of faces and abstraction that adorn the walls, white Christmas lights, black lights, and a disco ball function as the only sources of light, and most notably, a clothesline is hanging from the ceiling with pieces of blank, white paper hanging on clothespins – which I later find out is part of the night’s theme and the paper will be metaphorically filled by the night’s artistic contributions.

Everyone is greeting everybody else, hugging them, buying them drinks, talking about how amazing the last show was. The presentation begins with Aaron’s explanation of what he hoped to accomplish with tonight’s show, stating that the theme is “white,” the official name being “Decade of Light,” since the Nuclear Poetry emblem is the color-wheel, and all the colors fused create white light. Aaron explains, for the newcomers, that the color blue represents hope, green represents acceleration, and red represents destruction, and each previous show has been built on one of those concepts. When asked where the “nuclear” in Nuclear Poetry was derived from, Aaron explains that he had once written a poem/prose piece about the breaking of Pangea, which to him symbolized acceleration, and then the split between darkness and light, reminding us that hope can be drawn from destruction. “Nuclear energy and nuclear arsenal. A mammoth force of energy can and has been used for good causes and for causes of destruction.” He wants his poetry readings to be built on the concept of a gathering within a bomb shelter, where comfort is offered through each poet’s work. When asked if “nuclear” implies that his shows have a political tint to them, Aaron firmly replies “Yes.”

His opening presentation is a slide-show of images and video footage of monumental political and social events of recent years, as he sings a self-composed song, “Young Century, New America” and is visibly overcome by emotion. Aaron jokes that “this is the most people we’ve ever had – maybe by two” but then in all seriousness admits he’s overwhelmed by such a large turnout. He graciously says that he’s “proud, inspired, and lucky” to have such talented artists participating at his event.

The poetry reading is initiated by a few of the “regulars,” who Aaron says he discovered online, at writing workshops, and at various places around New York City. James Merenda is the first poet to take the stand, and has qualified to be part of the New York National Slam Team. He opens with a poem about death, running out of time, and the guilt that makes you feel alive, concluding with a poem about Hunter S. Thompson. Laura Bykowski is another poet who regularly participates at Nuclear Poetry readings, bringing some unique humor to the stage with her poem entitled ”Stupid Things I’ve Bought in this Lifetime,” and fervently urges everyone in the audience to “go home tonight and write” before she leaves the microphone. Support from the audience for all the poets could not be greater, and Aaron agrees “everyone is in this journey together."

During intermission, before the “open mic” round begins, Aaron explains to me that the reason why he has a piece of paper with “CONNECT” written in large, black letters sitting on the table beside in front microphone is that it’s his favorite word – ever, or at least for right now. For him, it is vital to feel connected to those around him and to the world in which he lives, even adding that he has the word written on his bedroom wall at home.

Later in the show, a few musicians demand the audience’s attention with their guitars and trance-like voices, attacking very personal subjects, such as being an illegal alien in the United States. There is no doubt how crucial the role of theatrics and presentation play in this show – all the poets are experts and speak directly from their heart, creating an intense wave of inspiration and motivation. When all voices have been heard, nobody seems ready to leave; everyone hovers around Aaron, congratulating him and their fellow poets on another incredible show.

This is the fifth Nuclear Poetry show that Aaron has assembled, and he’s set on continuing the shows because it “keeps him focused and he wants to continue bringing people closer to their creative sides.” With such a rapidly growing following, Aaron is now experimenting with larger venues and expanding his shows, but he hopes to preserve the poets’ ability to present controversial and personal work. He hopes to continue challenging the idea that poetry is boring, by scheming new and creative themes and ideas for his shows. He wants to remind us that “everyone has a voice, whether it be with words, paint, music, etc., and if there’s some kind of inspiration – nurture it and don’t be afraid.”

Aaron predicts that the next Nuclear Poetry show will be either later in February, or sometime in March, with a theme revolving around the human body. Pictures, videos, and information about past and upcoming shows can be found on his website, Nuclear Poetry

- Lindsay Sturm

Photos by JenGer Love