seven beats a second
Review by Tryst Editor

I've reached that point in my life
when I begin to understand
that I will not get out of it alive—unfinished business

Seven Beats a Second is Allen Itz's debut collection of poetry in collaboration with Vincent Martinez, art designer. (There is the option of purchasing a music CD by "The Ray-Guhn Show Choir" to accompany the book as well). This beautifully-bound book is proof that you don't have to be a writer, an editor, or a Texan to enjoy a good heaping serving of poetry. However, it helps to have a little Texas in you to fully appreciate Itz's languorous observations and that Texas draw-awl: Think of taffy, the way the words are pulled apart - sweet and savorous on the tongue until a clot of a story sticks to the roof of your mouth reminding you of "days when":

...when me
and my colored friend Toby
would shoot pool and drink Pearl beer
in little West Texas highway honky-tonks
that didn't often see a black face
come in the front door, except by mistake

but I was a big sumbitch
and Toby was mean as a snake when riled
and looked it even when he wasn't
so we mostly got along, drank some beer,
played some pool, made a dollar or two
to get us started back on down the road

honky-tonk cowboys is what we were

never punched a cow,
but kicked some ass in our better days

That is Texas, more in the past tense than the present when legends like Judge Roy Bean ruled with a rope and a stiff drink. These are the kind of stories that many of today's readers have never lived through; but readers, such as I, grew up thirsting for them in a time of desolate places overrun by tumbleweeds and cockroaches under a wilting sun. With Allen's casual "stoetry" we can leave out the pretentious, the politically correct, and memory manipulation to relive what has been lost to folklore but is still alive in the best of story tellers. And not to be outdone by the past, Itz reminds us of "our place" in the realm of things:

the moon hangs up there, silver-thin arc,
bright against the starless sky,
sharp as blade poised over our head

below, we struggle to deny the real world,
the world we mean to bury under our malls
and parking lots, our air-conditioned SUV's
and plastic mansions with make-believe trees
and fairy-tale lies, unreality shows to help us
believe we are more than the dust that made us

Stark and soberly real, part and parcel of what makes up for our culture as a whole, Itz is every bit invested in chronicling the best and the worst of times. Reminiscent of Yeat's, "Second Coming," the worst is yet to come when mere anarchy is loosed upon the world and the best lack all conviction as in Itz's, "rethinking the probabilities of god":

But most of what makes Itz's poetry compelling and every bit lovable is his ability to take life on a humorous spin; take on Forrest Gump's 'aw shucks' kind of voice; drop a question in the middle of your plate to come up with one of life's zaniest metaphors:

life
is like a duck hunt

every time
you really start to fly

some
asshole in the weeds

shoots
your feathered butt

right out of the sky

Only to circumnavigate right back to that ol' Texas highway when "God speaks to me on interstate 10":

burgers
fries
homemade apple pies

the sign towers over the mesquite
and huisache and stubby scrub oak
like a message from God Herself

lookee there at the top of the hill
She says
heaven's hit the ground just ahead
and it's waiting for you

I can see the little red building
and gas pumps and a cluster of cars
gathered round like in a prayer circle

normally, I'm a straight-ahead-don't-give-
me-that-scenic-overlook-historical-marker
-horse-hockey-pee-in-a-paper-cup-and
I'll-slow-down-to-fifty-so-you-can-toss-it-
-out-the-window-don't-you-look-at-me-
like-that-traveler

but, my oh my,

burgers
fries
homemade apple pies

Though I am a committed fan of Allen Itz's work, he deserves a larger audience than just myself and I wouldn't miss the chance to recommend this book to every person who ever lived. And I don't think all the work in this book is his best, (those I've skipped over in this review), but then what book has only the "best" and by whose standards? Seven Beats a Second isn't about the fully realized life of a writer; it's a work in progress and it's about, "unfinished business":

I've reached that point in my life
when I begin to understand
that I will not get out of it alive

and with that,
clarity

a million years of back-story
before us and consequences lingering
far past even a memory of our time,
leaving no end to things but the dark end
that comes to us all, despite the struggles
with pharmaceutical and metaphysical
manipulations that occupy our final days

but even as we fight to change the rules
of life and death, it's not closure we want
but a chance to stay on this well-lit stage
past our character's plotted time, a chance
to see the play unfold past the limitations
of our own poorly written walk-on part,
waiting for a final act that will never come

your life...
my life...

*******

Allen Itz is a native South Texan, moving slowly over the years from a small town  on the border in deep South Texas to San Antonio and the Texas hill country. He began as a writer in the late 1960's, published a few poems, then quit writing for nearly 30 years. He returned to poetry when he retired several years ago and has since published more than 250 poems in various on-line and print literary journals (including Tryst) and has recently released his first book, "Seven Beats a Second" Go to Allen's website at www.7beats.com for more information on his book, as well as art, new poetry, music and "Here and Now," his weekly  blog on poetry and lots of other things.

Copyright © 2007 Tryst3.com. All Rights Reserved.