Books

I can / not help but rave,” asserts the speaker of Diana Cole’s poem “Loosestrife,” “at the sight / of this wild bacchanal / that saved a gray day / from my indifference.” In a similar vein, I cannot help but marvel over this collection of poems that move with grace and fever from the brutal to the redeemed, from the quotidian to the philosophical, from precision to profundity. No subject is unworthy of the attention of this mind that synthesizes, of this heart that rhapsodizes, of this eye that finds the idiosyncrasies of phenomena and understands their place in the great and grinding order of human culpability and human reverence.

—Tom Daley,
Author: House You Cannot Reach—Poems in the Voice of My Mother and Other Poems (FurureCycle Press)

These are poems that dismiss out of hand the consolations of the “endless serene." Instead, these poems opt for purpose, energy, engagement with the real. Speaking in the voice of Eve at the edge of Eden, Diana Cole says “I want to see into the core, / taste the fruit I must avoid." Thus, with the poet to guide us, we enter a world where the sleek heron hunts the dazed little vole, where whales beach themselves and no one can save them, where gold and red falling leaves swirl around in our minds as much as they do around our bodies. It is a world where sometimes even “the air has teeth." We recognize this as our world, our only one, and in these vividly crafted lyrics we are reminded again of the truth in Wallace Stevens’ dictum: death is the mother of beauty.

—Fred Marchant,
Author: Said Not Said (Graywolf Press)

Diana Cole’s poetry frames and focuses the world in vivid perceptions fluently rendered. Her empathy for her subjects—whether beached whales, flowers, dying trees, or paintings—refreshes them and confirms their place in the universe. This poetry isn’t only a search for order, but an act of recovery. Plucked from the background noise, filtered through her vision, crows, crabs, snails and people reclaim their otherness and become more completely themselves. The poet, including herself in the process, also finds her place in this adroitly shaped vision.

—William Doreski,
Author: The Modern Voice in American Poetry (University Press of Florida)

Diana Cole’s poetry frames and focuses the world in vivid perceptions fluently rendered. Her empathy for her subjects—whether beached whales, flowers, dying trees, or paintings—refreshes them and confirms their place in the universe. The poet, including herself in the process, also finds her place in this adroitly shaped vision. This is the kind of poetry I love. Cole writes with such creative precision: the words are sharp and intentional, but with each line, the meaning grows larger than the sum of the words. Her poems have been carefully crafted in sound and sense, every image vibrant (“Clean-edged houses keep distance. / Fences square off vast white fields / where grass waits to prove green."). The poet uses rhyme and rhythm deftly–the average reader might not even notice they’re there but will glide along on pleasing syllables, knowing something has been done just right. And the final poem, “From the Next Galaxy"? Oh, my. Simply brilliant. Cole’s gorgeous cover (also her own creation) gives a taste of the unique beauty inside. Open this deceptively small book, and you will find yourself transported to a vast land of artful verse.

‌— Kathy Kodra,
Author: Independent Editor