R. L. Bennett

Mini badlands in Bardenas desert, captured as a storm was approaching at sunset.

#photography #landscape #nature

O mammal, you are my love
O lovely I am lapsing into tulips for you, into lilies

—Day Heisinger-Nixon, from “Notes From a Field on Fire”

YouTube video by Andrea Gibson Andrea Gibson - Homesick: A Plea For Our Planet (Official Video)

I didn’t know Andrea Gibson personally, but they had such a deep and profound impact on me through their work and the absolute lightbeam of a human they were. Rest in power, Andrea. Thank you. 🦋⚡️🌕 #poetry

“Is it not my purpose to see where, exactly, laughter has rivered around the eyes I adore?”

— Patrycja Humienik

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This poem appeared in We Contain Landscapes by Patrycja Humienik, published by Tin House, 2025. Shared here with deep gratitude.

i suppose i love this life
in spite of my clenched fist.

— andrea gibson

A redwing sits on top of some colourful purple-and-white lupins, with rain seen against the backdrop of grass and some white sky above.

Maybe a redwing in the rain on some lupins in #Iceland will help...

This world of dew
is a world of dew,
and yet, and yet.

—Kobayashi Issa

“Who needs memories when you have / arms around your waist?”

— Shira Erlichman

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This poem appeared in Odes to Lithium by Shira Erlichman, published by Alice James Books, 2019. Shared here with deep gratitude.

Broken Glass

Lake Balaton, Hungary

Cruelty made me. Cruelty and the sweet smelling earth…

—Linda Gregg, from “Etiology”

Touch of light

“All this madness, all this rage, all this flaming death of our civilization and our hopes, has been brought about because a set of official gentlemen, living luxurious lives, mostly stupid, and all without imagination or heart, have chosen that it should occur rather than that any one of them should suffer some infinitesimal rebuff to his country’s pride.” —Bertrand Russell

I promise, I'll get a book out to you people before we all die in a fiery cataclysm. More than one, even. 🔥

A close-up photograph of sea water.

A close look at the Southern Ocean. #JuneSea

“Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.”

— Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own

“Call me blooming, always blooming.

I am more than what glimmers after the wreck.”

— Meg Ford, from “What is your worst memory?” in Wild/Hurt #poetry @buttonpoetry.bsky.social

A photo of a page in a poetry book with a poem titled "How to Build a Tree." The poem reads: Sometimes your next halting step is more powerful than the grandest vision. ​ All a leaf knows about building a tree is to turn towards the light.

"How to Build a Tree" from my book, The Wilderness That Bears Your Name.

A long exposure image in black and white, captured on the northern coast of Spain 🇪🇸

#photography
#nature
#ocean
#longexposure
#bw
#blackandwhite

A flower is a series of events in time

—Willa Carroll, from "Score for the Body Between Seed & Thorn"

Ikuspuntuak (II)
Shinrin Yoku

#nature #photography #landscape #woodland #spring #springtime #trees #misty #minimal #bluesky

“How will you / have you prepare(d) for your death?”

— Chen Chen

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This poem appeared in Nat Brut. Shared here with deep gratitude.

"You think evil is going to come into your houses wearing big black boots. It doesn’t come like that. Look at the language. It begins in the language."

—Joseph Brodsky

Five Poems, Jane Draycott Hedge maze the hous is krynkeled to and fro... - ‘The Legend of Good Women’, Chaucer, 1387 Slow as it goes, the labyrinth glistening with ice circuit-board of crinkled hallways doors in bookcases, dead ends, night-house of my mind with at its heart the lookout tower, lawn and rescue flare demilitarised zone where wildlife flourishes uncomplicated area open to the sky – where are the books? How the moon was made and the Spiryt of þe Lord was borun on the watris. And God seide, Liȝt be maad Genesis 1:2–3, Wycliffe Bible That night while I slept you got up and took the mirror, carrying it like a shield through pitch-dark fields and over the water where you lifted it miles into the air like a shining breadfruit or illuminated womb, reflecting sunlight across our whole postcode – every tree and road sign, all the legendary sites, the lands and oceans, birds and fishes, animals, time itself, deep into the middle ages and beyond. By the time I woke, the glass had dropped beneath the horizon to below-stage, resting there with all the instruments and brooms and show-dust. I only had your word. Another night and we’d be back to the beginning: Day One could all be light again or could be only clouds and darkness.

'I only had your word. Another night and we’d
be back to the beginning: Day One could all
be light again or could be only clouds and darkness.'

Two of five poems by Jane Draycott, published in PNR 282. Subscribers can read the rest here: www.pnreview.co.uk/cgi-bin/scri...

A vertical-format, black and white photo of sea water pulling back around the few remains of a shipwreck with an island in the background and a dark, cloudy sky. Horizon above centre.

‘All that remains’. Today’s photo is from Wales. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿 📷 🌊

Yes I know: the thread you have to keep finding, over again, to
follow it back to life; I know. Impossible, sometimes.

—Jean Valentine, from "Sanctuary"

*packing our apartment for our move*

Wife: Half of these boxes are books!
Me: I don’t see the problem.

because who doesn’t want to say
they tamed the gardenia or the fiddle leaf fig?

to take something fragile
in their outstretched palm and say
look what i can save.we all want to be the reason

something turns out good.

#poetry

“& though we weren’t a revolution, / we were at least a questioning.” 🔥

Thank you! There is so much to coordinate 😅

Thank you!! 🫶