The Brooklyn Rail

For Cole

•  • wisdom, who
to us.
for us,
with us

highlights to
of to
urges to
• those
• the Dead: their Learning their Remembering their actions their aliveness
A momentum, a memory, the way people live on

I must have first heard of Cole
when she married Miles
She was teaching at Dartmouth
and then Bard
Even though it hurts, is a hole in that liveness.
We probably were in the same room
She is still alive for me
several times in that 20 year period
Into water’s deep hands.
but it wasn’t until Robert and I bought a house upstate
Though not really comforting, it had a sense of conclusion.
Even though I truly cannot think
Her death is unfathomable
in Staatsburg near the river
but no.
That we began
I was wishing they could save her, bring her back to us,
to get close.
they were taking care of Cole.
By that time
and somehow in my dream,
she was with her third husband
and living in Esopus by the river
in a house that was originally a Summer place
with a wraparound porch.
Her desk on that porch
One night after I couldn’t sleep, I dreamt
the conjunction of books with nature
I heard of her passing on Sunday, May 25 in the ICU
The substrate of Cole.
in the Yuba River in California
I didn’t remember her first name was Rebecca
At approximately 9 PM May 24 Cole jumped
The newspapers announced her passing
unconscious for 24 hours
I must’ve been
in Bellevue hospital for four days
I remember daffodils in her garden,
hit and run.
This Anarchic garden
near the woods behind a fence
keeping highway noise somewhat distant.
On May 23 at 9 PM walking across 2nd Avenue
we admired the flowers and then
each other
scrambled down a steep hill to the river
where like goats we walked on the stones
Horrifically, mortality came to us
up and back-and-forth and down
The talks and food, the gardening that we would do
Dinner with salmon in this magical house
I was looking forward to all the walks and swims,
The treasures and books and paintings and passage
Next spring was our housewarming
I was only going to be there for half the summer now
She was going to move up to Hudson
since it had lots of power
It was her last month in Barrytown
We invited relatives, neighbors, upstate friends,
We were going to be together this June.
and after everyone left
flirtatious, intelligent, funny, She
stayed on
This inviting body, which was not a baby-body at all
Cole
of black hair and flush cheeks
terrific, lively, charismatic, gossipy, funny, original
She, she was the rose with the rosebud lips and black touseled hair
Bonding over poetry and gardening
To offer that flower
It was perfect. She was a princess to which
He handed her on
flung native Columbine
into ground, red yellow bobbing sepals
somewhat tattered for not being in water
She transplanted them into my garden out back
Three yellow rosebuds
where they still are thriving
very special to have Her Spirit growing every time I walk out the door.
In the spring we were in the city, having dinner
reminding me of her
very feminine body, but also resembling a teenager
We would go walking along the river
and she would find a white pine and
when I arrived, she was just coming out of the shower.
insist that I plant it.
She was late getting back from New York that Saturday
walking Bard’s “Moonie’s” lands and getting lost
and she was going to drive me.
or go swimming in Crystal Pond
sitting on the grass, talking poetry
diving into water.
There is no end
There is an end
The last time at the house in Barrytown this spring
She would return to my garden
and pull invasive anemones out by hand
dirty nails
Impressively so.
that in my rich soil
fluent in Spanish.
cute and flirtatious
You might not know
the thread or even be able to follow
completely convincing.
She was always following, searching.
Last year a Hanukkah party at home
with intentionality in her work.
singing old songs
peeling potatoes and apples for latkes and sauce
Makes sense
though what she spoke was as if discovered.
and as I write this, I think she must’ve been influenced by David Antin’s
live performances.
The idea was process, that things were [we’re] always moving
Her brilliant, hypnotic performance
her thoughts and concerns
as if Cole was conjuring words out of the page of her mind
covered in flowers, flowery rugs, flowery bedspread, flowery pillows
with vases and bouquets filling the small space
That there’s nothing more interesting than watching a face
Thinking,  playing (percussion; a sax)
growing (a plant improvising space)
She had steps going down
to another borrowed anarchic garden
Trying to think through it
she couldn’t live without it
as if she was seeing a reflection of her own mind
and along the steps there was a flowering vine
about to
By then she had a new beloved, Stephen
She would look out and she wasn’t making eyes at the crowd.
in a group reading somewhere north of Germantown
You couldn’t sum it up.
intriguing, smart, philosophical, brilliant
One night after I couldn’t sleep, I dreamt
that Cole had been taken up by the Water Babies
the book by Charles Kingsley, that I read as a child
The book always lingered in my mind
its drawings, its ideas of lost children going underwater,
and somehow in my dream,
they were taking care of Cole.
I was wishing they could save her, bring her back to us,
but no.

Even though I truly believe her death is unfathomable
She is still alive for me
Even as it hurts, is a hole in that liveness,
A hole that is lifeness
Into water’s deep hands.

 

June 26, 2025
Staatsburg