Northwestern University Press, 9780810129153, 84pp.
Publication Date: April 30, 2013
Winner of the Cave Canem Northwestern University Press Poetry Prize
In his second collection of poetry, Reginald Harris traverses real and imagined landscapes, searching for answers to the question “What are you?” From Baltimore to Havana, Atlantic City to Alabama—and from the broad memories of childhood to the very specific moment of Marvin Gaye singing at the 1983 NBA All-Star Game shortly before his death—this is a travel diary of internal and external journeys exploring issues of race and sexuality. The poet traveler falls into and out of love and lust, sometimes coupled, sometimes alone. Autogeography tracks how who you are changes depending on where you are; how where you are and where you’ve been determine who you are and where you might be headed.
About the Author
Reginald Harris is information technology director and coordinator of poetry in the branches for Poets House in New York City. The recipient of Individual Artist Awards for both poetry and fiction from the Maryland State Arts Council, a Pushcart Prize nominee, and a Cave Canem fellow, his first book, 10 Tongues (2001), was a finalist for a Lambda Literary Award and the ForeWord Book of the Year. His poetry, fiction, reviews, and articles have appeared in numerous journals and websites, including 5am, African American Review, Gargoyle, and Sou’wester Journal; and in the anthologies Best Gay Poetry 2008 and The Ringing Ear: Black Poets Lean South.
Praise For Autogeography: Poems…
"Auto meaning self or same, and Geography meaning earth writing. In Autogeography, Harris explores the geographies that have written his identity as an African American and as a gay male. His stylistically diverse collection is personal, contemporary, marked by the rhythms of African American music, inventive, and filled with a disarming wit.
In "The Poet Behind the Wheel," Harris writes of the poet: "Do NOT let him drive you: / Buckle up and hours later / Who knows where you'll arrive"—advice readers will be happy to ignore as Autogeography travels through a landscape of personal lyrics, descriptive portraits, and historical witness.
This is poetry that wants to speak to readers and not above them. He walks the streets you walk, sees the people you see, feels—especially in "The Lost Boys: A Requiem"— the same heart-breaking despair over the plight of African American males (drugs, violence, AIDS, urban ruin) that you feel. Harris is driving and readers are lucky to be in the passenger seat."—Janice Harington