"Forgive state poet #289-128 / for not scribbling illusions / of trickery as if timeless hell / could be captured by stanzas / alliteration or slant rhyme," remarks the speaker, Maryland Department of Corrections prisoner {#289-128}, early in this haunting collection. Three sections—{#289-128} Property of the State, {#289-128} Poet-in-Residence (Cell 23), and {#289-128} Poet in New York—frame the countless ways in which the narrator's body and life are socially and legally rendered by the state even as the act of poetry helps him reclaim an identity during imprisonment. These poems address the prison industrial complex, the carceral state, the criminal justice system, racism, violence, love, resilience, hope, and despair while exploring the idea of freedom in a cell. In the tradition of Dennis Brutus's Letters to Martha, Wole Soyinka's A Shuttle in the Crypt, and Etheridge Knight's The Essential Etheridge Knight, {#289-128} challenges the language of incarceration—especially the ways in which it reinforces stigmas and stereotypes. Though {#289-128} refuses to be defined as a felon, this collection viscerally details the dehumanizing effects of prison, which linger long after release. It also illuminates the ways in which we all are relegated to cells or boundaries, whether we want to acknowledge it or not.
Randall Horton is the author of a previous memoir and several books of poetry, including Pitch Dark Anarchy: Poems (TriQuarterly Books, 2013) and The Lingua Franca of Ninth Street. In 2019 he served as poet-in-residence for the Civil Rights Corps in Washington, DC, which is a nonprofit organization dedicated to challenging systemic injustice in the American legal system. The recipient of numerous awards, including the Gwendolyn Brooks Poetry Award, the Bea González Poetry, a National Endowment of the Arts Fellowship in Poetry, and a Right to Return Fellowship from the Soze Foundation, he currently sits on the Advisory Board of PEN America’s PEN Prison Writing Program. He is a professor of English at the University of New Haven.
Mind-blowing collection of poetry. On the surface, much of the poetry seems to be about the writer’s incarceration and later about New York City, but in fact it is an indictment of the racism and violence those with power inflict upon Black Americans and the cycles of being that are perpetuated. Can’t even begin to process it all. Powerful stuff, thank you Randall Horton.
“take back murderers who invited whiteness. / I am not post or post-racial or post-human. i am.”
“exiting darkness begins the process / by which, of course, [I] dissolves”
“the body is now instrument & tonight / a book might save my life after lock in—“
Recently poet/writer Crystal Wilkinson started a Twitter thread asking people to name living authors who do not get the recognition they deserve. One of the names mentioned in the thread was Randall Horton. I was honored to receive an advanced copy of his latest release and was ready to read the work of this poet who many considered underrated.
The title of this poetry collection is the prison number Dr. Horton was assigned during a period of incarceration. The prison number is used throughout the poems as way of signifying the erasure of humanity from those who are incarcerated.
The three sections of this collection: Property of the State, Poet-in-Residence (Cell 23) and {#289-128} Poet in New York, contain reflections on prison life as well as regrets about life decisions. One the most haunting poems for me was “A Primer for Surviving a Traffic Stop”. Despite the majority of the poems concentrating on various aspects of incarceration, the poet takes time to reflect on a situation that can deadlier than of prison. After reading this collection, I see why Dr. Horton was highly recommended in the Twitter thread.
I was sent this book by the author’s publicity team in exchange for an honest review.
“criminal {#289-128} shall inherit destiny underneath a systemic bootheel no one will bemoan dire circumstance
racism, disparities, unemployment, habit lack of wealth nor egalitarianism the usual roadblocks shall be futile
in this quest to not only detain but yes ensure erasure transpires for the good.” — from Arrest Warrant by Randall Horton
If you’ve never visited a prison or intimately known someone who spent time there, Randall Horton’s poetry collection will give you a glimpse into what it’s like.
{#289-128}, the identifier assigned to Horton by the Maryland Department of Corrections, is a collection of poems about racism, mass incarceration, the prison industrial complex, and the ghosts that haunt long after release from prison.
This collection confronts you. Grips you. Makes you feel something. Horton’s words and the imagery he creates are powerful.
Some of my favorite poems were, “How to Become the Invisible Man,” “A Primer for Surviving a Traffic Stop,” and “Subway Chronicles.” From these titles alone, you can imagine what you might discover in the stanzas.
Thank you Randall Horton for sharing your life with us and to Kaye Publicity for this gifted copy.
Horton is great at prolonging tension in his poetry and then delivering a masterful gut-punch in the last line or stanza. Will have to reread this collection, but my first impression is that it's excellent.
"but darker--yes, there is darkness. okay?"
"over the mountaintop, the ardent wind blows in my dreams: the voiceless are alive, too—"
"only a boy or a manchild or a bogeyman—"
Just a few examples. Was very lucky to have won a copy through this site.