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Amore Fatigue
168 pages, Paperback
Published October 31, 2024
About the author
Ryan Morrow
9 books23 followersRyan Morrow is an analytical chemist and poet living in the American midwest. In his free time from the laboratory he writes poetry about his experiences and observations of the world. His style is a chimera of the idealized writers of old and the wham-bam-thank-you-mam style of today's instagramers. Poems that span the gamut of topic and form, but always searching with a curious yet demanding intent.
To date he has released two volumes. "Chase Something Worth the Kill" his literary cherry-pop from 2015 that has proven to be an extremely elusive book to acquire. Short punchy lines of verse that leave the reader just as perplexed and captivated. Then came the hefty and more refined "Deep Survival" of 2018, a more well rounded and focused effort with beautiful illustrations to help navigate the reader to their mysterious destination.
Due out on Halloween of 2020, Mr. Morrow is set to release his third and most ambitious work to date, "Weightless: Blood of Flower, Heart of Beast." A book about beauty and its beasts, the ephemeral nature of man, and falling in love with uncertainty.
It's safe to say that Ryan is far from exhausted when it come to the written word. Much more territory begs to be explored and brought to the surface.
To date he has released two volumes. "Chase Something Worth the Kill" his literary cherry-pop from 2015 that has proven to be an extremely elusive book to acquire. Short punchy lines of verse that leave the reader just as perplexed and captivated. Then came the hefty and more refined "Deep Survival" of 2018, a more well rounded and focused effort with beautiful illustrations to help navigate the reader to their mysterious destination.
Due out on Halloween of 2020, Mr. Morrow is set to release his third and most ambitious work to date, "Weightless: Blood of Flower, Heart of Beast." A book about beauty and its beasts, the ephemeral nature of man, and falling in love with uncertainty.
It's safe to say that Ryan is far from exhausted when it come to the written word. Much more territory begs to be explored and brought to the surface.
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
May 16, 2026
It’s no secret I’m a romantic.
Neither helpless nor hopeless, but something far more difficult:
A realist romantic.
I see truth through all optimism. I find all the human flaws within the way humans function, and celebrate that we’re capable of keeping romance itself alive within us despite it. Obsession mistaken for intrigue, desperation disguised as devotion, love for lust, loyalty for loneliness, and anything and all-the-things that fall into or fall apart in the realm of *love*.
With a keen eye, I read this collection as a romantic without her rose-colored-glasses. I dissected all the above and looked for things as what they were and not just what the words said.
Not too great a challenge, with poetry as palpable as this.
From the forward to every single poem, you can feel what’s written. Feel it like any nightmare or cautionary tale. Like any memory being handed down—like a still-beating heart put directly into the palm of the listener’s hand.
“I am tied to the tracks
of beauty’s power
and the train is coming fast as fate
I am a captive to a hunger
only one soul can satiate”
Poets must possess either great madness or exponential vulnerability in order to manipulate so much emotion into so few words.
This was a thought I’d had, before I read with my own eyes and apparent synchronized heart:
“Love is but madness set free!
or is madness just love unchained?”
Then:
“Is not love a kind of insanity?
or is insanity just a means to escape love’s spell”
What a story told by all these pieces. From blossom to bloom, to the breaking then burial of Love. Amore Fatigue, an assumed play upon Amor Fati, is the most brilliant, most realistic way to express how we may not all ‘love our fate’, but what impeccable ART can come from those who are Fated to Love. Then Lose. Then Live on, in whatever peril or anguish inspires creation.
In closing, a final round of applause from me in the form of my favorite stanza within:
“Father Time is drunk again
bending linear moments
into hoops and spirals
before he retires to his
bed of nails
where he will weep
and the world will flood in turn”
Marvelous, Morrow. Marvelous.
Neither helpless nor hopeless, but something far more difficult:
A realist romantic.
I see truth through all optimism. I find all the human flaws within the way humans function, and celebrate that we’re capable of keeping romance itself alive within us despite it. Obsession mistaken for intrigue, desperation disguised as devotion, love for lust, loyalty for loneliness, and anything and all-the-things that fall into or fall apart in the realm of *love*.
With a keen eye, I read this collection as a romantic without her rose-colored-glasses. I dissected all the above and looked for things as what they were and not just what the words said.
Not too great a challenge, with poetry as palpable as this.
From the forward to every single poem, you can feel what’s written. Feel it like any nightmare or cautionary tale. Like any memory being handed down—like a still-beating heart put directly into the palm of the listener’s hand.
“I am tied to the tracks
of beauty’s power
and the train is coming fast as fate
I am a captive to a hunger
only one soul can satiate”
Poets must possess either great madness or exponential vulnerability in order to manipulate so much emotion into so few words.
This was a thought I’d had, before I read with my own eyes and apparent synchronized heart:
“Love is but madness set free!
or is madness just love unchained?”
Then:
“Is not love a kind of insanity?
or is insanity just a means to escape love’s spell”
What a story told by all these pieces. From blossom to bloom, to the breaking then burial of Love. Amore Fatigue, an assumed play upon Amor Fati, is the most brilliant, most realistic way to express how we may not all ‘love our fate’, but what impeccable ART can come from those who are Fated to Love. Then Lose. Then Live on, in whatever peril or anguish inspires creation.
In closing, a final round of applause from me in the form of my favorite stanza within:
“Father Time is drunk again
bending linear moments
into hoops and spirals
before he retires to his
bed of nails
where he will weep
and the world will flood in turn”
Marvelous, Morrow. Marvelous.
Displaying 1 of 1 review