About once a year I revisit the work of my favorite poet, Czeslaw Milosz, and this month has definitely been it.
He’s written a ton of excellent work but Unattainable Earth is the volume I keep coming back to and has a very “mixed media” feel to me as he embeds correspondence and letters from friends as well as works of other poets that inspired him during the time it was written.
It’s very difficult to describe why Milosz means so much to me. I suppose he captures an endless striving for meaning compounded with an inability to explain why simple things bring us joy or comfort. And a bit of spiritual restlessness. He’s great at mourning the inadequacy of written and spoken language. A good example of his work from Unattainable Earth might be Winter.