I'm Not a Poet but I Write Poetry: Poems from My Autistic Mind
Tito Rajarshi Mukhopadhyay, a leading poet (though he does not acknowledge it) and memoirist of the experience of autism, was born in India in 1988. Tito was diagnosed with severe autism at the age of three, but his mother Soma, with fi erce hope and determination, devised an intensive rapid prompting method to teach Tito to read and write. In 2001, Tito and his mother came to the United States to begin work collaborating with doctors, re-searchers, and advocates in order to better understand and support individuals with autism. At a very early age, Tito began expressing himself in prose and poetry and numerous collections of his work have been published (see below). More recently, Tito has become a leading fi gure in the neurodiversity movement, challenging conventional measures of mental states and abilities. As Tito describes himself: “Human beings have classifi ed each other based on religion, country, disorders and of course in today’s world their sexual choices. It is easy to recognize each other based on classifi cation. Hence, doctors have classifi ed me with Autism.” Tito’s life and work have been featured widely in the media, including “Sixty Minutes”,“Good Morning America,” The New York Times, Scientifi c American, National Geographic, PBS, CNN, Disability Studies Quarterly and in the documentaries Tito’s Story (BBC, 1999) and A Mother’s Courage (HBO, 2010) Tito now lives in Austin, Texas, where his mother directs the autism organization HALO http://www.halo-soma.org and Tito and his mother make frequent presentations to autism education and advocacy organizations nationwide.
What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
Autistic Bangalore barn owl call barn owl song barn owl’s wings beneath a cloudy big to bigger birds blinked claw like branches Cloud covered sky cloudy sky color distance dust dusty moon electric cables Beneath end word eyes feel flew ﬂower ﬂying forget that moon Ghazal glow grew ground grow Halfa sonnet hazel bush nods head can Talk Heaven hunger June kitchen shelf l'I‘here lived lonely blue star Manhattan memory Milky Misfit moon dream morning Mutilated spirit breathed Mutilated spirit Counted Mutilated spirit sat Mutilated spirit told night orange and yellow Pantoum Perhaps purple Ralph Savarese sang SAW HER—I THINK scrambled Sestina shadows silence smile Sometimes somewhere sound Spirit With tender stanza repeats staring street lamps stretch sun up high sunflowers tea-stall tercet third line thoughts three and thirty-five three lines trees turning and turning Villanelle wasn’t Watched wild dogs wings Mutilated Spirit Wishing that summer