The Book of Ezra

Young Blood

by ezra edwards

Once, when we were kids

driving down a dirt road

in the backseat

of our grandparent’s Chevy,

rocks kicked up against the window

as we drove past

the vast pasture

where the cows grazed

and paused to eat grass.

Against the barbed fence

lay the body

of a baby calf.

Dried up from the sun,

flies circled around it.

Vultures,

waiting for a taste.

Victoria, next to me,

gasped, “Oh,

that poor baby cow.

That poor baby.”

I said nothing but,

“That’s how it goes.”

Grandma said, “That’s right.”

And Victoria hated me.

The Pressure

Her chest heaves

under her breasts. She’s

tired of being tired.

Her body rolls left to right

under covers of down

while the bed springs.

As the phone rings, 

she answers without sound.

Feet hit the hard wood

of the apartment floor.

Pillow case hangs on,

alarmed, shut off.

The Promotion

by James Tate

I was a dog in my former life, a very good
dog, and, thus, I was promoted to a human being.
I liked being a dog. I worked for a poor farmer
guarding and herding his sheep. Wolves and coyotes
tried to get past me almost every night, and not
once did I lose a sheep. The farmer rewarded me
with good food, food from his table. He may have
been poor, but he ate well. And his children
played with me, when they weren’t in school or
working in the field. I had all the love any dog
could hope for. When I got old, they got a new
dog, and I trained him in the tricks of the trade.
He quickly learned, and the farmer brought me into
the house to live with them. I brought the farmer
his slippers in the morning, as he was getting
old, too. I was dying slowly, a little bit at a
time. The farmer knew this and would bring the
new dog in to visit me from time to time. The
new dog would entertain me with his flips and
flops and nuzzles. And then one morning I just
didn’t get up. They gave me a fine burial down
by the stream under a shade tree. That was the
end of my being a dog. Sometimes I miss it so
I sit by the window and cry. I live in a high-rise
that looks out at a bunch of other high-rises.
At my job I work in a cubicle and barely speak
to anyone all day. This is my reward for being
a good dog. The human wolves don’t even see me.
They fear me not.

(this is my favorite poem)

Thing

Raw

between my teeth

I bit the back 

of her neck

she moaned

for more

she was never gonna adore me

so i bit harder

two tigers making love

in a jungle of blood

all i wanted was a date

or maybe a mate

a thing to dance in the rain with 

to understand this

wild creature

and her naked green eyes

and maybe feature

a thing to love

more than myself

The Body and the Soul

by Vincente Aleixandre

But it is sadder than that, much, much sadder.
Sad as a branch letting its fruit fall for no one.
Sadder, much sadder.  Like the mist
the dead fruit breathes out from the ground.
Like that hand that rises from the corpse lying in state
and merely wants to touch the lamps,
the grieving smile, the night speechless and velvet.
Luminous night above the corpse stretched out without its soul.
The soul outside, soul outside the body, swooping
with such delicacy over the shape sad and abandoned.
Soul of soft mist, held floating
above its former lover, the defenseless and pale
body, which grows colder as the night goes on,
it remains silent, alone, empty in a gentle way.

Soul of love that watches and hesitates
to free itself, but finally leaves, gentle and cold.

“Travel, But Don’t Move.”

“Travel, but don’t move,” my uncle once told me. I trust Russell. He’s never steered me wrong and he is a self-made man who I have great respect for. He told me this once after asking about my plans for after graduation. I was picking his brain about business at the time and he suggested that to begin a business one must truly know their community. Invest in your roots. This conversation was so important to me, probably more than he realized. 

Graduation is right around the corner and everyone keeps asking me, “So, what’s next? What are you going to do? What are your plans?” 

To which I normally reply, “Well, I’m going to be a full-time poet, and a part-time sociologist.” It should just be that easy, right?! My degree in Poetry with it’s minor in Sociology has taken me a long time to get and now that’s its almost here, I am questioning what AM I going to do (?!?). WHAT do I want to BE? The truth is I don’t need to be a published writer to feel like a writer. It’s my greatest love… always has been, always will be. And if that love takes me to where I end up, great. I would love that.

Back to traveling vs moving, several of my friends are making their moves or planning their moves to separate coasts: some to NYC, some to California. I’ve definitely had California on the brain this whole past month, it’s always been a dream. The dream was always San Francisco but lately it’s been LA (cue 2pac’s song “To Live and Die in LA”). 

I know it’s doable. I know I can do it. If I want. But do I really I want?

They say home is where the heart is and Austin is just that: my home and my heart. My family lives here and my grandparents are getting older. But then I think to my grandmother’s plate collection (what’s with old people and collectible plates, btw?) My grandmother has a plate on her wall from San Francisco and I once asked her when she went. She said, “Oh, never.” The plate was just a gift from my mom when she lived there years ago while my dad was stationed in the navy. I think the farthest my grandmother has ever traveled is Branson, Missouri (“Like Las Vegas, if it was run by Ned Flanders.”)

It made me sad for a moment to realize this about my grandmother but then I stopped myself. My grandmother is content to have never traveled outside the U.S. It’s just how she is; it’s just how she was raised. The wanderlust and dreamer in me doesn’t exist in her and that’s just how it is. No need to be sad, we’re just two different people. 

But I digress. The point is, my future is WIDE open. Seriously, now that school is almost out of the way, I have a lot of options. And a lot of plans.

There are still things here in Austin that I would like to do, today and tomorrow. I have so many ideas for the summer for Girlfriend events (stay tuned!) and for DJ gigs (stay tuned!) 

Outside of Austin, there are worlds I want to explore. And they are, in order of desire:

New Zealand

Costa Rica

Tibet

Thailand

Eygpt

Spain

Africa

….pretty much anywhere that will have me. But New Zealand is at the top. 

And I know there is no reason to fear. And there’s no true reason to feel tied down. If I ever feel trapped, I know it is at my own hands. Freedom begins with our mind-set. 

I remember Rachel telling me about one of her best friends who gave her a copy of Alice in Wonderland. Inside the book, she wrote to Rachel, “Can’t wait to get free.” That always stuck with me. “Can’t wait to get free.” But freedom isn’t just a day away. Freedom is here. You are free. I am free. Well, after these five finals I have coming up. THEN…. FREEDOM. Sweet, sweet merciful freedom. I embrace you. 

(cue George Michael’s Freedom, one of my favorite songs of all time)

<iframe width=”420” height=”315” src=”http://www.youtube.com/embed/diYAc7gB-0A” frameborder=”0” allowfullscreen></iframe>