Roberto Carlos Garcia

Author's Bio

Poet, storyteller, and essayist Roberto Carlos Garcia is a self-described “sancocho […] of provisions from the Harlem Renaissance, the Spanish Poets of 1929, the Black Arts Movement, the Nuyorican School, and the Modernists.” Garcia is rigorously interrogative of himself and the world around him, conveying “nakedness of emotion, intent, and experience,” and he writes extensively about the Afro-Latinx and Afro-diasporic experience. His second poetry collection, black / Maybe, is available from Willow Books. Roberto’s first collection, Melancolía, is available from Červená Barva Press. His poems and prose have appeared or are forthcoming in Bettering American Poetry, The Root, Those People, Rigorous, Academy of American Poets Poem-A-Day, Gawker, Barrelhouse, The Acentos Review, Lunch Ticket, and many others. He is founder of the cooperative press Get Fresh Books, LLC. A native New Yorker, Roberto holds an MFA in Poetry and Poetry in Translation from Drew University, and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.

Publications and Prizes

Books: 
black / Maybe: An Afro Lyric
(Willow Books, 2018)
, Melancolía
(Cervena Barva Press, 2016)
Journals: 
5 A.M., Academy of American Poets Poem-a-Day, Atticus Review, Barrelhouse, Boiler Journal, Connotation Press: An Online Artifact, Lunch Ticket, The Rumpus
Chapbooks: 
Amores Gitano (gypsy loves)
(Cervena Barva Press, 2013)

Personal Favorites

What I'm Reading Now: 
The Order of Time by Carlo Rovelli
,
Diasporic Blackness: The Life and Times of Arturo Schomburg by Dr Vanessa K. Valdes
Favorite Authors: 
So many! Come on! Hahaha.

Reviews, Recordings, and Interviews

More Information

Listed as: 
Poet
Gives readings: 
Yes
Travels for readings: 
Yes
Identifies as: 
Caribbean American, Latino/Latina
Prefers to work with: 
Any
Fluent in: 
English, Spanish
Born in: 
New York, NY
Raised in: 
New York, NY
work_excerpt: 
DRIVE I’m listening to Vampire Weekend on my drive home, & I wouldn’t know what a Vampire Weekend is except that my daughter made me a playlist for my fortieth birthday; & I’m grateful we listen to so much music together, because I can’t stop dancing to this track, track three, & I’m maybe speeding a little thinking of how fast the years pass & come up on you at the same time; & then I see the biggest blackest raven you’d ever want to see, pecking the red pulpy roadkill of some poor beast too slow to swim life’s wave & there’s nothing left but the strips of its insides, & the raven’s having its fill, & isn’t that the mystery? & if life isn’t a road you speed down, looking periodically in the rearview as the houses, trees, people & places whiz by, & if life isn’t eating your red pulpy guts at the same time as you eat life’s indigestible flesh, dancing, singing even to a song full of sentiment, then we’re doing it wrong, I’m doing it wrong, & please tell me what is more real than the peck-peck-peck of devouring this life Belief system I believe in the magic of kissing, of low-cut dresses, too much wine, & slow dancing I believe you will be remembered by how you make love, & that loving is the best way to know one another I believe water was turned into wine; it makes sense; I wish I could’ve been there I believe we are all mustard seeds, yellow as stars & just as perilous I believe we should rename ourselves— I believe I love to the point of being an imbecile, then shrink like tissue When I weep like this everyone hates me
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Last updated: Dec 19, 2018