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Category: Unit 3 (Page 3 of 6)

Spoken Word

WARNING: This poem contains swear words and other possibly offensive language. You do not have to watch it if you don’t want to be exposed to that. It is NOT required. Please use your judgement.

The poet, Staceyann Chin, was the guest speaker at the City Tech Literary Arts Festival last year.  Can Spoken Word Poetry be a good genre for serious issues? What are your reactions to this performance and poem?

Poetry As Genre II

Sherman Alexie is a contemporary Native American poet and writer from the Northwest, Spokane Reservation. Much, certainly not all,  of his work in poetry and fiction are dark and often humorous reflections on being a Native American in today’s society.  His graphic novel, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian is a fun, poignant, and great read.  What do you think about this poem as a whole, and what do you make of the last 5 lines or so? What theme(s) does this poem reflect on?

On The Amtrak From Boston To New York City

by Sherman Alexie

The white woman across the aisle from me says ‘Look,
look at all the history, that house
on the hill there is over two hundred years old, ‘
as she points out the window past me

into what she has been taught. I have learned
little more about American history during my few days
back East than what I expected and far less
of what we should all know of the tribal stories

whose architecture is 15,000 years older
than the corners of the house that sits
museumed on the hill. ‘Walden Pond, ‘
the woman on the train asks, ‘Did you see Walden Pond? ‘

and I don’t have a cruel enough heart to break
her own by telling her there are five Walden Ponds
on my little reservation out West
and at least a hundred more surrounding Spokane,

the city I pretended to call my home. ‘Listen, ‘
I could have told her. ‘I don’t give a shit
about Walden. I know the Indians were living stories
around that pond before Walden’s grandparents were born

and before his grandparents’ grandparents were born.
I’m tired of hearing about Don-fucking-Henley saving it, too,
because that’s redundant. If Don Henley’s brothers and sisters
and mothers and father hadn’t come here in the first place

then nothing would need to be saved.’
But I didn’t say a word to the woman about Walden
Pond because she smiled so much and seemed delighted
that I thought to bring her an orange juice

back from the food car. I respect elders
of every color. All I really did was eat
my tasteless sandwich, drink my Diet Pepsi
and nod my head whenever the woman pointed out

another little piece of her country’s history
while I, as all Indians have done
since this war began, made plans
for what I would do and say the next time

somebody from the enemy thought I was one of their own.

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