Jane Kenyon’s poem “Three Songs at the End of Summer” features three portraits of late summer, each evoking its own distinct sounds, moods, and atmosphere. The first section of the poem begins with “a second crop of hay” and “five gleaming crows,” continues through the sights and sounds of summer camp, and ends with a couplet that gestures to autumn: “Schoolbooks, carpools, pleated skirts; / water, silver-still, and a vee of geese.” The second section consists of two three-line stanzas infused with the sound of cicadas, and in the final section, Kenyon explicitly reaches back in time to the speaker’s childhood and the scent of a damp dirt road on a foggy morning. Taking inspiration from this structure, write a three-part poem that explores a few resonant memories of the end of summer—fleeting images and sounds and smells of various activities. Experiment with sections of varying lengths to create dramatic effect.

When asked in an interview published on Creative Independent whether there is a common thread throughout the works that he’s translated from various languages, Max Lawton mentions that there is usually “an element of transgression, whether that’s on the level of language or on the level of content” and that “shocking movies, transgressive music, loud music, not as a form of real rebellion, just mischievousness” are what brought him into art. Taking inspiration from this prioritization of transgression and mischief, write a personal essay that uses language in a shocking way or recounts something shocking in its content. Allow yourself to experiment with syntax in a way you’ve never tried before, or to write about a memory you’ve never dared to touch. How can you strike a balance between a playful sense of mischief and an intense subject matter?

Kane Parsons’s debut horror film Backrooms revolves around the discovery of a labyrinthine parallel universe of mysteriously empty rooms and hallways which are entered through the basement of a furniture store. The concept originates from “Backrooms” website threads in which users post and contribute writing—essentially cocreating fictional horror accounts akin to urban legends—about an otherworldly dimension that exists in a liminal space, inspired by a photo depicting several empty rooms tinged in fluorescent yellowish lighting. This week, think of a space that feels mundane or familiar to you, such as a furniture store, the corridors of an expansive hotel, or a school basement. Then write a short story inspired by the image of the space when it’s devoid of any activity. Consider the lighting, furnishings, and sounds that accompany the space and what might enhance a menacing or unsettling scene.

In a recent New York Times Magazine article, Nitsuh Adebe speaks with a linguist about the ways in which words evolve over time, noting recent shifts in the use of terms like “POV” and “aesthetic,” especially in social media posts. “How people use a language is what the language is, and most everything we do in an effort to steer one another’s usage—teaching grammar, mocking errors, writing columns—is just an exercise of social power,” writes Abebe. Compose a poem that incorporates a word or phrase that has gained a new meaning in contemporary use, possibly through the rapidly changing landscape of language mediated, distorted, or abbreviated in texting and social media. What sorts of ingenuity, misinterpretation, and customization propelled your selection from its original definition to a new one? How might using it in a new poetic context subject it to an additional layer of meaning?