Zarzamora

Poetry of Survival

by Vincent Cooper

The Westside of San Antonio, Texas is a human panorama hard to describe, especially if you grew up there, or have lived there for any length of time. The task of the poet is to make sense of those streets, those old people, those young people, wayward punks, drug addicts, viejitas, viejitos with the look in their eyes of " I know, I know". Those stray dogs which don't stray, those cats whose nine lives are never enough. As a poet, one must define oneself by those around, brothers, sisters, cousins, mom and dad, the good the bad and the ugly.

Perhaps Zarzamora Street is the backbone of the Westside, the aorta, the wickedness, or the angelic eyes of a Sunday morning, the smell of a bakery, the delinquent scent of tacos, the mingling of menudo. In Vincent Cooper's Zarzamora, the Westside comes alive with life and death.

Whereas with most books of poetry you can just quote a few stanzas of lyrics which stand out and be done with it, with Zarzamora you have to keep digging to the core, until the Westside reaches out to stab you with its ups and downs, with its shortcomings and small victories. It's a book about family deep in the throes of life and death, a family whose survivors can not and will not let go of the past.
Violence and love commingle.

Zarzamora Street is the spine of the barrio, the Westside revolves around it like a black hole sucking everything into it. Young punks, wayward girls, dogs, addicts, the young and the old alike, the jefe, tio Danny, tio Mike, tio Tony, Jody, the grandma who does not want to be resuscitated. The poet struggles with his bills, a hungry dog follows him but gives up...

Vincent Cooper has written a book that will break your heart, a book of poetry that beats like a heart held in the hand. A book as real as Zarzamora Street.