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Book Synopsis
This sophisticated first collection by Jim Powell synthesizes personal and world history to produce a compelling vision of the past, through verse letters to friends and relatives, translations of Horace, Propertious, Sappho, and others, and allusions to ancient figures of history and mythology. His title burns away everywhere in the volume, in the fevers of eros, divination, memory, destruction, and grief...Page for page, there is more sheer fine, clear, yet syntactically subtle and metaphorically gorgeous writing in Powell than I have seen in some time.--Mary Kinzie, Poetry Jim Powell's poems, like those of Thomas Hardy, are haunted forms, full of ghosts and mocking gods, shadows and foreshadowings. But Powell is a Hardy whose poems we've never read, a Hardy with his hand in the blaze, not stirring the ash in a cold and wind-torn grate.--Jennifer Clarvoe, The Threepenny Review

It was Fever that Made the World Phoenix Poets

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    A Hardback by Jim Powell

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      Publisher: University of Chicago Press
      Publication Date: 4/24/1989 12:00:00 AM
      ISBN13: 9780226677064, 978-0226677064
      ISBN10: 0226677060

      Description

      Book Synopsis
      This sophisticated first collection by Jim Powell synthesizes personal and world history to produce a compelling vision of the past, through verse letters to friends and relatives, translations of Horace, Propertious, Sappho, and others, and allusions to ancient figures of history and mythology. His title burns away everywhere in the volume, in the fevers of eros, divination, memory, destruction, and grief...Page for page, there is more sheer fine, clear, yet syntactically subtle and metaphorically gorgeous writing in Powell than I have seen in some time.--Mary Kinzie, Poetry Jim Powell's poems, like those of Thomas Hardy, are haunted forms, full of ghosts and mocking gods, shadows and foreshadowings. But Powell is a Hardy whose poems we've never read, a Hardy with his hand in the blaze, not stirring the ash in a cold and wind-torn grate.--Jennifer Clarvoe, The Threepenny Review

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