I avoided his poetry for years, the way one avoids eye contact in a lift. Imagining it to be all about horses, I ignored the ravings—sane as they turned out to be. Perhaps it was his Poet Laureate status, or maybe just his popularity in general. I don’t remember now what compelled me to pick up that first book of his poetry. It was on display (oh those evil displays) and it was his newest publication at the time. I really wanted to hate him, but then I read the poems and I didn’t. The language he uses elevates the ordinary everyday and mundane into an appreciative art. It was accessible and relational. It made me rethink the small moments in life and wonder if they could ever be captured in just such a simple manner.
I started with Ballistics, but I don’t believe it matters which one you pick up to begin. Just begin.