Books like Mega-Galaxies — picked by fans

“Do I contradict myself? / Very well then I contradict myself, / (I am large, I contain multitudes).”

I first heard these words from Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman at a Berkeley Poets Cooperative workshop in 1972. I was intrigued and had to read Whitman’s work myself! Up until this point, my primary influences as a poet had been the Romantics (especially Keats, Shelley, and Byron), Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost, and Edna St. Vincent Millay.

Whitman was a revelation. He showed me not only that a poet could write in an entirely different way, but also that an individual can encompass and represent vastness. When Whitman reveals his name in “Song of Myself,” he includes the whole universe in a single breath: “Walt Whitman, a kosmos.” 

Sylvia Plath created an important body of poetry although she committed suicide at age 30.

After hearing about her work in the 1970s, I looked for her books and read all of them before The Collected Poems came out in 1981. Her images were indeed amazing, and they made me look at the world more closely: “The pears fatten like little buddhas. / A blue mist is dragging the lake.”

Even more importantly, she wrote honestly about undesirable mental states like depression: “People or stars / Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.” I admired her willingness to share her sorrow, anger, and jealousy, turning negative moods into art, and I wanted to bring such candor into my own poetry.

An abundance of gorgeous images and philosophical insights!

Who else would write “The sparrow gleans and prims among the icy / weeds, hardly noticing, as if she knew / she were not merely herself, not pulse, / not marrow, not throbbing, but an eternal / equation of motion relative to belief”?

Pattiann Rogers always astounds me with her specific, concrete images and knowledge of science, as well as the philosophical insights that seem to spring organically from the poem itself.

I began following Rogers when her first book, The Expectations of Light, came out in 1982. I felt so close to her poems that I wished I’d written them myself, and I have been feasting on her books, including Song of the World Becoming, ever since.

Lisa Rosenberg’s background as a physicist and space program engineer informs poems that probe the beauties and mysteries of existence.

I first encountered her work in 2022 when she read in the Virtual STEM Poetry Series sponsored by Farmingdale State College in New York. Her poems are vivid, juxtaposing biology and cosmology: “The aster blooms. The supernova cools.” They are also rich in sound repetitions (“blooms,” “cools”) and musicality.

In Weeds and Stars, Rosenberg both invents new poetic forms and makes existing ones—like the sonnet, prose poem, villanelle, pantoum, and cento—her own. Her book came out in 2026 and is therefore a relative, not an ancestor, of my own poetry. In fact, Rosenberg’s poems and mine share some common ancestors, including Robert Frost and Sylvia Plath. 

This fifth pick isn’t fiction. But like the best fiction, poetry can pierce through to the very essence. Although shaggy poet Whitman was the furthest thing from a soldier imaginable, he was deeply involved in the war effort nonetheless. After the Battle of Fredericksburg, Whitman traveled to Virginia to find his wounded brother. He then chose to remain in Washington, DC, nursing wounded soldiers. Whitman’s war-time experiences gave rise to some of the finest poems in Leaves of Grass such as “The Wound-Dresser,” “Come Up from the Fields Father,” and “A Sight in Camp in the Daybreak Gray and Dim.”

I was pulled into this book as I entered the world of a secret society of Flaneurs or Wanderers. I loved the secret intrigue of how the author found the symbol for this secret society in a used book and how it spurred a curious exploration of why we wander.

I used the ideas in the book to slow down, use my curiosity, and re-engage with my human qualities that are so often buried in the busyness and connection to tech all day long. This book was a welcome, cool drink of water on a hot day, filled with great stories and illustrations. 

A full-length rewrite of Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself” that preserves only the first and last letter of each line, Shelf is a consummate work of potential literature—from the “why on earth would someone do that” all the way to the “wait, this is actually dope.” Without ever estranging himself from Whitman’s transcendentalist trumpeting, Quintavalle burrows deep into the poem’s form and instills a disenchanted eloquence all his own.

As a young man I had a prolonged bout of mental illness. What saved me was my struggle to become a writer. This was my secret identity. I had to find other writers to inspire me, whose books offered hope, and could help me channel the restless energy that I felt within that had not yet found a purpose. I found such a writer in Henry Miller.

Miller is out of fashion now, even though George Orwell called him "the only imaginative prose-writer of the slightest value who has appeared among the English-speaking races for some years past". Like DH Lawrence, he tangled with the censors repeatedly – to his credit.

He was as uncompromising about his art as Lawrence. Unlike him, he had no hang-ups about moralism and guilt. Far from it. Reading him was like sipping nectar. It was a tonic for the mind. His exuberant language was… show more.

When I want to be astonished by the fierce and tender realities of the natural world—which is pretty much always—I read the late poet Mary Oliver. These are immersive essays by a writer who infused the very act of observation with a sacred energy—in her own words, “attention is the beginning of devotion.”

The essays are alive with animal life and soar with Oliver’s signature, forthright voice. In one essay, she rescues an injured gull. In another, she forages the eggs of a snapping turtle for dinner. Oliver humbly witnesses and partakes of the mystery and turns companionably to her reader with stirring questions: “Do you think there is anything not attached by its unbreakable cord to everything else?”

Here’s another book that I love because it’s a story about love, the love of two boys who are unlikely companions: one is a former football player, taciturn and withdrawn; the other is openly gay, a short, slender, fine-boned boy who idolizes the poet Walt Whitman, whose words become a leitmotif of this remarkable novel. Told in the form of. letters that the two boys exchange, it follows their emerging friendship as it gradually turns into a love that’s as poetic as Whitman’s well-chosen words. The relationship of the boys – who are characters to die for – is riveting and their story, unforgettable. Another terrific addition to gay literature for teens.