I only happened to come across Billy Collins by sheer accident at the bookstore. Curious, I pulled it out and began to read. I, a T.S. Eliot fanatic, was struck down by the absence of those very things I love about Eliot. Collins has a deceptively simple style bereft of even the vaguest trace of poetic posturing. He is not obsessed with language and never picks a word just for the echoes it might produce. One thing I noticed while reading the other reviews of this book was the repition of the word 'accessible,' so I'm not the only one to believe that Collins can be argued about at the dinner table while you're waiting for dessert to be brought out. (Of course, at that point dessert may just never get brought out.) This does not mean that Collins has a 'point' he wishes to express with each poem. On the contrary, each poem leaves a distinct aftertaste that lingers in those deliciously ripe moments after you close the book for a second to savor what you have just finished reading. It is this blend of philosophy and beauty that draws you into his poetry and makes you hunger for more.
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