Bit by bit, everything in this wide realm becomes more like a dream. Oh, if only I were a tiny tree and stood on the bank of a little brook. -Robert Walser, translated by Kristofor Minta, from his wonderful <My Heart Has So Many Flaws>

Moving toward the spring light

“so we live here”

Victoria Chang, THE TREES WITNESS EVERYTHING

Oh February. To get ink and weep! To write of February, sob it out, While slush is blazing through the deep, Black spring and spreading on the ground. Boris Pasternak, February (tr. Andrey Kneller)

This Saturday, "Hug" by Kayoko Kimura, 2022

A return to long morning walks, the feeling of being able to breathe again, and Louise Glück: "Spring: the unforeseen / flooding the abyss. // And the life / filling again." (from Decade)

Dreamed of a place like the one in Marlen Haushofer's The Wall... I still think about that book.

This is beautiful

Nighttime coziness— "Your voice is water open beneath stars, collected from abundant rain, gone to low places. The night is moist, the ground wet, air still, trees silent, and tonight I love you." Robert Bly, Seeing You Carry Plants In

What will we do with the loneliness of the mythical? - Eavan Boland, “Eurydice Speaks”

I'm pleased to be working with Ballerini Book Press ... Fallen Leaves (poetry collection, 2025) and work included in Through the Looking Glass (anthology, 2026) @ballerinibookpress.bsky.social @amantineb.bsky.social ballerinibookpress.ch/rareswanempo...

▫️ unforgotten ▫️

In case you wonder what human tears look like. Micrograph by Jean Langevin (polarized light)

this path once not taken now walked every night

Every day there are new horrors, and disgust, and despair. But also, beauty... As @susanlleary.bsky.social writes in her poem Idle: "Despite madness, beauty. Despite common sense, an idyllic / garden, which in time, makes us ignorant once more." You can talk about the human heart without apology.

On a January morning— "I want to lie down with the snow. I want the wild lilies to break their silence." (by Daniel Simko, from THE ARRIVAL)

Charles Simic 🖤

Sun in an empty room - Edward Hopper, 1965. Source : Collection privée

Was looking for something else and found a photo from another life. I see this place in my dreams. But even in my dreams, I mourn the impossibility of return, even if *return* could well be real. It is such a strange experience to know the ghost of yourself.

or the deer all lowering their heads Linda Gregg

Didn't know I needed this book until I read it. A dream?... A nightmare. (Thank you @liamsprod.bsky.social for "recommending" it; I saw it in one of your posts)

An excuse to share this. www.metphrastics.com/issue-1/#sum...

This. Book. Is Gorgeous. Thank you, @susanlleary.bsky.social for your words! You can preorder and have in your hands soon here: triohousepress.myshopify.com/products/mor...

Was admiring the beautiful sunset after sick days spent indoors

Some memories feel vibrant, almost inhabited, while others, most, are like near-transparent overlays. - Sven Bikerts in The Common www.thecommononline.org/thirty-seven...

The dawns in Vuillard’s shadows. 🖤

New? diptych by Jaume Llorens, "Snow-covered mountains and the water of the lake" ❤️

Today's poem (Daily Poem) from the Paris Review, "The Man in the Room, after Rembrandt" by Mark Rudman

Faced with the unutterable, words still disintegrate . . . And ever new, out of the most quivering stones, music builds her divine house in useless space. -Rainer Maria Rilke (tr. A. Poulin, Jr.)

Winterscape with yarrow

the endless ground of your own deep pulse, Rainer Maria Rilke, tr. David Young

lost & found sorting through much older work to mix for a new project - so happy to discover some long lost memories

"How every apple is the poison apple. How rosy the skin. How sweet the flesh. How to suck the apple's poison is the one true meal, the invocation and the Last Supper." Diane Seuss, [Here on this edge I have had many diminutive visions.] poems.com/poem/here-on...

Life

We are celebrating the upcoming release of @susanlleary.bsky.social’s More Flowers by offering you a special deal! Get a copy of Dressing the Bear for 50% off with every order of My Flowers this January: triohousepress.myshopify.com/products/mor...

Louise Glück

The sea in a glass

Little robin, bones pinned to the cosmos. Who whistles? Who calls? Tomaž Šalamun

Maybe you want some poppies despite—

First light of the year and Carol Ann Duffy: "Time falls and falls through endless space, to when we are." (from New Year)

All frottage— www.alinastefanescuwriter.com/blog/2025/12...

Angel and hearts from my son. May 2026 be a gentler year for you. ❤️

Vale #Rilke #DOTD 1926– who wrote his own epitaph, which graces his tombstone even today: 𝙍𝒐𝙨𝒆, 𝙤𝒉 𝒓𝙚𝒊𝙣𝒆𝙧 𝙒𝒊𝙙𝒆𝙧𝒔𝙥𝒓𝙪𝒄𝙝, 𝑳𝙪𝒔𝙩, 𝑵𝙞𝒆𝙢𝒂𝙣𝒅𝙚𝒔 𝑺𝙘𝒉𝙡𝒂𝙛 𝙯𝒖 𝒔𝙚𝒊𝙣 𝙪𝒏𝙩𝒆𝙧 𝙨𝒐𝙫𝒊𝙚𝒍 𝑳𝙞𝒅𝙚𝒓𝙣. "Rose, o pure contradiction, desire to be no one's sleep beneath so many lids."

Marina Tsvetayeva in her essay "Your [Rilke's] Death": "Each death returns us into every other death. Each of the dead returns to us all who went before him, and returns us—to them. [...] Thus, from grave to grave—a round-robin warrant of our faithfulness to the dead. /

Another world inside this one

Winter light #icm #impressionism

From W.S. Merwin's The Solstice, THE RAIN IN THE TREES

Read my new translation and literary analysis of 𝑮𝙤𝒈𝙤𝒍 by 𝐓o𝐦a𝐬 𝐓r𝐚n𝐬t𝐫ö𝐦e𝐫, a haunting portrait of the Russian writer in a tribute that affirms the enduring awe one artist can feel toward another. hataaliinotes.substack.com/p/gogol #poetry #poetrycommunity #translation #Swedish #Transtromer

Remembering that fiery poppy from one of my summer walks, now that the days are mostly gloomy and gray. Poppy-eye, looking past you, for "I have / a lord in heaven / called the sun, and open / for him, showing him / the fire of my own heart" (Louise Glück)