Wisps of smoke, lamplight on manuscripts. Pages fanned across an oak stool. -Robert Adamson, “Dorothy Wordsworth”

1776: Wasps still go into the hives. Gathered-in some of the early pippins: fine baking apples.

George Oppen, 1930 (photographer unknown to me)

Mary Oppen

So small the ear appears and yet, so laden with the night’s hours -Pam Rehm

“Pilgrims spoke in hushed tones about prowling tigers”

In those days forest pilgrims felt “the breath of tigers”

… arayal’s heart- shaped leaves scattered fragments of wind.

Steven Toussaint

as I stare caduceus waves in wand play tympanum birds as if the sea once corporeal drum now the issued constant tides tighten into black conch I can hear the ocean -Steven Toussaint, from Fiddlehead

1776: The ring-ouzel appears on it's autumnal visit.

Because your fingers are golden fronds, yielding me the produce of a breakfast serenity: almonds of prayer and lemons of innocence, I am more than myself. I am the morning sun, weaned upon the fruits of my solstice. -Gustaf Sobin

6.20 a.m. a long line of ducks crossing the sky

Upstream, the current is shallow Deftly turning them over, I have observed rock bottoms like flowers The flowing water carries a leaf on its surface Face the wind let it wind through your shirtsleeves -Pam Rehm, from “The Shadow of a Mountain”

silent Sunday messenger

Reality remains a leafing tree: The roots seek water as the leaves seek light. -Peyton Houston

wind shakes the bamboo leaves— sound of rain

Dog Knowledge A useful seriousness sewed of jesting threads serves inclination as errands A scent compounded by attention dispenses with almanacs— The uninterpreted is remarkable too. -Jack Davis, Faunics

Agnes Martin / Tundra, 1967

. . . the common for me is where one should begin: there the ancient arrives as new. -Parmenides (tr. Dan Beachy-Quick)

Agnes Martin

Agnes Martin

It flows beneath the surface. as she dreams, her eyelids tremble.

Guy Davenport, The Geography of the Imagination

Agnes Martin

Agnes Martin

Guillevic (tr. Monique Chefdor & Stella Harvey)

www.youtube.com/watch?v=8AGp... I wonder if a high school teacher showing this today would lose his or her job

Agnes Martin

www.youtube.com/watch?v=iQ0c... ANTIFA (for my father who fought fascism)

LISTENING This animal air made to make some sense from sound the pre-linguistic muscle of words held still by this splint of attention. -Jack Davis, Faunics

THE HUT for letting go of. catch- flow. making the little hut (the voice-hovel) of the un- inhabitable. -Gustaf Sobin

PATTERNS of replacement a seed’s genius passed through birds by pitch filch & gut assaying their selves. -Jack Davis, Faunics

Water by Halo Moonlight/grey yet very bright, Fish Scales tossing about on it. -Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Notebooks

1/2 from Audubon’s Labrador I found nearly forty thousand small flowers new open where only a fleeting wish appeared last evening All nature here eludes through beautiful strategems and contrary orders for the disposition of such small puzzles -Jack Davis

William Carlos Williams

@billymills.bsky.social - Allen Ginsberg with Robert Creeley on William Carlos Williams - continues - September 17 - The great poet William Carlos Williams was born on this day - allenginsberg.org/2025/09/s-w-...

“People always ask, ‘Who’s your ideal reader?’ Mine is somebody who reads a few pages and then falls asleep and has a fantastic dream.” From our Art of the Essay interview with Eliot Weinberger in our new Fall issue. buff.ly/PIJNDC7

Even on a clear night the stars tremble as if shining through water

The deer on pine mountain Where there are no falling leaves, Knows the coming of autumn Only by the sound of his own voice. -Ōnakatomi no Yoshinobu (tr. Kenneth Rexroth) “This is the first Japanese poem I ever translated; I was 15 years old. It is still one of my favorites.” K.R.

The feeling of stepping into a boat on water

@kimdorman.bsky.social - Allen Ginsberg and Robert Creeley on William Carlos Williams - allenginsberg.org/2025/09/t-16/

He opens his eyes wide, then squints and rubs them with his hand. He holds the object far away, then brings it close. He moves out into the sunlight, then remembers his eye-salve. In this way the old man reads a book. -Varāha (after Daniel H. H. Ingalls) *for Arvind Krishna Mehrotra

The mustard stalks turn brown; the flowers fall as they grow, so that the seed pods still cling to those that remain -Lakșmīdhara (after Daniel H. H. Ingalls)

The flashing wagtails fly along the field banks where the mud is shallow, hunting seeds that are whitening into sprouts -Yogeśvara (after Daniel H. H. Ingalls)