It Was Fever That Made the World

I had read it for many times, and I could find something new every time I read.

This is my favorite volume of poetry. He writes with the fire and heat he praises. The poetry crackles and burns the whole way through. My fingers and eyes have been singed by his feverish words. While I am not as versed in the classical imagery he summons, the work is nonetheless powerful and accessible. His poems written in the form of letters to friends, lovers, relatives are particularly affecting. But above all his writing burns and reminds me of the fever I live with every day, of the immedicacy and hot thrill of being alive. He argues that "recalcitrance to change" may slowly wear us down, and that the battering of ourselves against rocks shooting downstream in dangerous rapids can preserve us... This makes sense to me. I could recommend no other text so highly