Some books are inspirations. Some books I wish I could make myself. Some of the most wonderful books are both of these things. The Gorgeous Nothings was an exquisite book: weighty but minimalist, a sense of whiteness running through it in keeping with the ephemeral nature of Dickinson’s writing on envelopes: scratchy, quick, unsent. I sometimes wonder if this isn’t what poems should be: fragile, discreet, more often than misplaced. The book comes out on October 4, 2016, courtesy of New Directions and the Christine Burgin Gallery. I wish I lived in New York.