My boyfriend, because he is an angel and a beautiful cliché, bought me a book of poetry last week. It’s by Dylan Thomas; it’s the collected works, first published 1952.
If you’ve ever read the poem Do not go gentle into that good night, this is the same author. I haven’t even read a quarter of the book yet, and he’s already flown up to take his place in my top 3 poets.
His writing is rich and romantic and dark. It is obtuse at points and utterly vivid at others. Read him slowly.
Read him aloud, too.