Sherman Alexie
So ive been reading sherman alexie's book "Old Shirts & New Skins" and find his poems quite interesting.
this poem is entitled "Introduction to Native American Literature" and is the first poem of the book.... I'll try to put more up here as i type them out....
if you want "Shoes"- ive got that typed, just ask and i'll e-mail it to ya.....
“Introduction to Native American Literature”
Somewhere in America a television explodes
& here you ar again (again)
Asking me to explain broken glass.
You scour the reservation landfill
Through the debris of so many lives:
Old guitar, basketball on fire, pair of shoes.
All you bring me is an empty bottle.
Am I the garbageman of your dreams?
*
Listen:
It will not save you
Or talk you down from the ledge
Of a personal building.
It will not kill you
Or throw you facedown to the floor
& pull the trigger twice.
It believes a roomful of monkeys
In a roomful of typewriters
Would eventually produce a roomful
Of poetry about missing the jungle.
You will forget
More than you remember:
That is why we all dream slowly.
Often, you need change of scenery.
It will give you one black & white photograph.
Sometimes, it whispers
Into anonymous corner bars
& talks too much about the color
Of its eyes & skin & hair.
It believes a piece of coal
Shoved up its own ass
Will emerge years later
As a perfectly imperfect diamond.
Sometimes, it screams
The English language near freeways
Until trucks jackknife & stop all traffic
While the city runs over itself.
Often, you ask forgiveness.
It will give you a 10% discount.
*
Because you have seen the color of my bare skin
Does not mean you have memorized the shape of my ribcage.
Because you have seen the spine of the mountain
Does not mean you made the climb.
Because you stood waist-deep in the changing river
Does not mean you were equal to MC^2
Because you gave something a name
Does not mean your name is important.
Because you sleep
Does not mean you see into my dreams.
*
Send it a letter: the address will keep changing.
Give it a phone call: busy signal.
Knock on its door: you’ll hear voices.
Look in its windows: shadows dance through the blinds.
In the end, it will pick you up from the pavement
& take you to the tribal café for breakfast.
It will read you the menu.
It will not pay your half of the bill.