So sad to read this when I woke this morning. His puzzling and enchanting poems have meant so much to me since I first came across Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror years ago and I've been lucky enough to read them collaboratively online in the Penn poetry community known as ModPo.

Tributes all over the place.

John Ashbery was writing poetry up until the end and I shall miss seeing new poems from him, along with his collage work. From Some Trees:

'Arranging by chance
To meet as far this morning
From the world as agreeing
With it, you and I
Are suddenly what the trees try
To tell us we are...'

Any other Ashbery lovers here?