Pierce the Skin.  What a perfect title for a perfect little book of poetry.  Henri Cole’s selected poems pierce the reader’s skin and heart over and over again.  This collection of poetry from the past twenty-five years of Cole’s writings is at once beautiful and painful, universal and uncomfortably personal.  Cole writes of his relationship with his parents, and the shell that was their marriage.  He writes unsparingly of the violence and unhappiness of that marriage even as he mourns his father’s death and his mother’s long decline.  Cole longs for love, the kind of love that comforts, enchants and lasts.  And he mourns the death of loved ones.  Each poem is such a self-contained little jewel, capable of being appreciated all on its own.  However, this collection lets the reader not only enjoy each individual piece, but also see how Cole deals with the themes of love and loss, of self-doubt and peace of mind over a twenty-five year period.

Now, I admit up front that I love poetry.  Always have.  I admire the imagery and the wordsmithery it demands.  I love seeing the poet’s take on life’s big questions.  Well, Henri Cole is in a whole different class of poetry!  Yes, his imagery is vivid, and oh yeah, he can weave words together in magical and compelling ways.  But there’s more than mere skill in Pierce the Skin.  The honesty, the unwavering  willingness to delve into the deepest secrets of life just fills this book.  He sees the beauty and the pain in life, nature, love and religion, and takes the reader on the prickly journey with him.  You can’t help but examine your own life a little deeper, a little more closely—which can be a little uncomfortable.     And maybe that’s the point.  This beautiful book really does Pierce the Skin.