As a last-of-the-year post, here’s one of my poems now appearing in the Valparaiso Fall/Winter 2020-2021 (Vol. XXII, No. 1) issue of Valparaiso Poetry Review. VPR is one of the nation’s longest running online poetry journals.
A CITY IS THE PEOPLE YOU KNOW THERE
After too many years, I knock
and a stranger appears at the front door
of the creaky white Victorian. No, she doesn’t live here
anymore and who are you?
All my friends have moved away
like me, taking their history with them,
but you and I could never change
what happened between us,
and then we do. Looking for a pleasant wound,
I go back to my private shelf and find
an empty space where my youth should be, with a note
in that still captivating hand of yours—dear,
thought you wouldn’t mind.
Recently published in Image Journal
Walking in Circles
by Richard Cole
I get lost easily, even now,
entering the dim, allegorical woods
preserved inside our city, always
the faint, white noise of traffic
somewhere beyond the trees as I wander
with diligence down a dirt path beaten
by others and myself. I’m on my way
I think, until I think I’ve been this way
before not twenty minutes ago. I’m never sure.
Nothing is a straight line
or even a labyrinth but a squirrelly maze
I trace and retrace almost every day
for whatever thoughts that might arrive
as I walk in circles, truer circles described
inside of circles, having learned
I need to get lost, a parade of one,
to find my calling, then lost again
to find my own way home.
Here’s one of my new poems, published in THAT Literary Review:
by Richard Cole
Perhaps in heaven, the blind
will still be blind, the lame
won’t walk, the deformed will not
be otherwise, and it won’t
make a difference. Not a bit. Perhaps
all of heaven is just two
inches away, the earth made
truly in the image of heaven. Hard
to say. If it’s heaven all the way to heaven,
then it might be hell all the way to hell. We see
glimpses in the eyes of the patient dead
walking among us. So too,
in a heaven filled with children
already here. Somehow, this is it. We have all arrived,
a dazzling, infinite world packed
neatly inside our capacity.
If only we could see with both eyes open
what we see with both eyes closed, and perhaps
we always have.
This is one of my latest, called “Mitosis.” Like my other paintings, this one talks about unity and division, the lines and demarcations that are overwhelmed by an underlying coherence.
This was a challenge. Well, most of them are. Too much like a Christmas flower. Then the magenta emerged as a kind of protective shield. So there you have it.