I've got a book of his collected poems (Oxford's World Classics) - he tends to write in easily digestible chunks, so good for reading a few a day.
One thing that interests me is the relative transparency of the initial meanings in his work, as compared to many other modernist-type poets. I don't mind that at all personally, but it really stands out. He's obsessed with nostalgia and memory - there's probably a glaring biographical reason
SINCE NINE O'CLOCK
Half past twelve. The hours have passed quickly
since nine o'clock when I lit the lamp
and sat down ,here. I've been sitting without reading,
without talking. To whom could I talk,
all alone within this house!
The image of my young body,
since nine o'clock when I lit the lamp,
came and found me and reminded me
of closed, perfumed rooms
and past sensual pleasure-what audacious pleasure!
And also brought before my eyes
streets that have since become unrecognizable;
night clubs full of life that now are closed,
and theatres and cafes that once used to be.
The image of my young body
came back and brought to mind also sad memories;
family mournings, separations,
feelings of my dear ones, feelings
of the dead, so little appreciated.
Half past twelve. How the hours have passed.
Half past twelve. How have the years gone by.