Jim Zola has worked in a warehouse, as a security guard, in a bookstore, as a teacher for deaf children, as a toy designer for Fisher Price, and currently as a children’s librarian. Published in many journals through the years, his publications include a chapbook — The One Hundred Bones of Weather (Blue Pitcher Press) — and a full length poetry collection — What Glorious Possibilities (Aldrich Press). He currently lives in Greensboro, NC.
Sometimes a word is like the sound
a wind chime makes in the neighbor’s yard
where all you ever hear is barking,
a dog you never see but imagine —
a mutt with one black eye, one brown
and a dusty snout snuffing
at the bottom edge of the privacy fence
that keeps him in. What evidence
is needed? One plus one plus one.
Look through the wooden slat, whisper
loving sounds. Somewhere there is an empire
and a miracle and a hound,
head back, baying at the truth.
I am Just a Colorful Rattle
Begin with the heartbeat
of faceless angels.
I meant to say angles,
obtuse wings, gossamer geometry.
There are reasons to mask the appetites.
Fumed birds see what we can’t.
Killdeer chase hawk across the quarry sky.
Da Vinci spent 12 years painting
Mona Lisa’s lips.
Yuan Mei obsessively washed his feet.
Your Other Life
What does it matter what reality is outside myself – Baudelaire
You want to live your other life in a room
with blue bottles, where the light outside
is understood, where words filter through the blueness
and cover you with a new kind of need.