He saw the kind of beauty yellow flowers have growing over a carpet of dead leaves. The beauty of cracks forming a mosaic in a dry riverbed, of emerald-green algae at the base of a seawall, of a broken shard from a blue bottle. The beauty of a window smudged with tiny prints. The beauty of wild weeds.

— Michelle Cuevas

I rose from marsh mud algae, quietus, willows, sweet green, noisy birds and frogs.

— Lorine Niedecker