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Project Notebook

Final Project Notebook for Hybrid Experimental Poetics course
by

Shamecca Harris

on 2 May 2018

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Transcript of Project Notebook

Mother:
Daughter, say "The Pledge of Allegiance."

Daughter:
"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."

Mother:
Indivisi-who? I always thought it said "and deliver us from evil." Say it again!

Daughter:
No it's in-di-vi-si-ble. Indivisible.

Mother:
What's that?

Father:
That's paganism.

Mother:
What the fuck are you talking about?

Father:
That's paganism. The white man wants you to worship his country.

Mother:
It's not his country. They stole this country. This land belonged to the Indians.

Father:
Well it don't matter if they stole it. They got it now. And it don't matter because the bible says, that's paganism. The white man want you to worship his country, but he don't want to respect you in it.
Hybrid Experimental Poetics - Spring 2018
Allegiance- Project Notebook
by Shamecca Harris

Dialogue
Notes 2.12.18
What does it mean to come from a country that doesn't claim you?

Black Americans as uniquely American because they have been totally disconnected from country/culture or origin.

Black culture = American culture

Counter culture inevitably appropriated by the mainstream. (ex. Jazz, Rock & Roll, Hip Hop, CORNROWS)

She sits pretty on her throne.
Her hair his wild.
Her eyes are wide.
Her heart recites a poem.
Her arms seek adventure.
Her legs are insecure.
She falls down, she gets back up
And sits pretty on her throne.
She bends but never breaks.
She listens with no ears.
Her shell is scarred.
Her soul is clean.
She wants to save the world.
She is a gift.
She is a curse.
She is free.
She is a slave.
She is Africa.
She is America.
Or is she something in between?
She is too confused to save the world.
She wants to save herself.
Her mind is limp.
Her faith is spoiled.
She falls down, I pick her up
And place her on her throne.

Throne (Ode to My Dammit Doll)
2.24.2018 (Freewrite)

A room of my own
A door with a lock, but no key
A desk
A chair
A bed too big to sleep in alone
I sleep anyway
Crooked limbs spread wide over bleach stained sheets
White spots
White walls
White shelves filled with books by black poets
Black words from black mouths
A native son speaks to a native daughter
Auntie Zora says their eyes were watching god
But his eyes are watching me
Bright, beautiful, and bulging
The man they call Baldwin holds me accountable with his sight
He is writing all of the time
I join him some of the time
Fumes from his lit cigarette travel through time and space
They penetrate my tiny cell with the sweet smoke of frankincense and myrrh
I Inhale the good shit and exhale the bullshit
I read somewhere this breeds good luck
But i can’t see through the fog
I am an Invisible (wo)man
I stand alone in a forest of dark souls
I left my sisters behind
What do they call a black (wo)man with a PhD?
A nigger?
A bitch?
A unicorn?
Anything but what the title suggests
Still, I can survive damn near everything
In this room of my own
Full transcript