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mongibeddu.bsky.social
Poet, editor, scholar in Maine. Now available: Nice: The Collected Poems of David Melnick (https://nightboat.org/book/nice/). Free 🇵🇸; end the genocide now!
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The Journal for Architectural Education’s Palestine issue — for which I was an issue co-editor — was cancelled by the board of Association of Collegiate Schools of Architecture citing risks and “new actions by the U.S. presidential administration” 😐 www.archpaper.com/2025/02/acsa...

The master also composed a number of works, such as Words for Wishing to Investigate the Profound and A Selection of Ancient Sayings, which enjoyed a wide circulation. [Footnote: No longer extant.]

Searched the house desperately for an out-of-print book, a slim volume of verse, going through boxes as well as shelves and piles—no luck. Bought a replacement at no small price. A few days later, opening a different book by the same poet, found that missing one tucked inside. Oy vey.

I’d like to think that the students who come to class unprepared and have trouble saying more than “I like the images” when asked about a poem actually wrote those incisive commentaries—but AI has poisoned that possibility. RIP Benefit of the Doubt. A lingering suspicion has replaced you.

I really wish there was a recording of Charles Olson’s conversation with Frank O’Hara in Buffalo, 1964.

The rocky beach was streaked with ice and snow and the wind made it hard to stay, but the coast was beautiful today.

The university’s home page looks increasingly like an advertisement for a timeshare.

It’s frigid and cloudy but the birds seem to know snow’s coming so they’ve come out of hiding to hop and sing. I’ll try to emulate them today.

Paideuma 50 is now available! “Poems We Live With,” 460 pages, 60+ contributors. Table of contents here: paideuma.wordpress.com/2025/01/24/p...

Benjamin Friedlander, from The Missing Occasion of Saying Yes

In art, it’s not necessary to like everything that’s good or reject everything that’s bad—unless one is professionally obligated to be right (and god preserve me from such people).

Rereading Adorno’s original statement on poetry after Auschwitz it dawned on me that Audre Lorde’s essay “The Master’s Tools” takes up the same problem from a different standpoint.

Jimmy Durante was part of a staged reading of Auden’s Age of Anxiety?

I’m getting my car inspected, half-listening to the tv, when it sinks in that someone is talking about Milton Rogovin.

I suspect that many who cite James Baldwin as a hero are actually more aligned with Richard Wright’s side in their argument.

A PhD student I knew in passing while earning my MA at Berkeley flashed up from memory, so I googled her—she’s now emerita. Good god how the shadows creep in.

In my network of friends it looks like I’m the only one who felt a deeper connection to Bob Uecker than David Lynch. Safe travels to both!

There’s really only one thing I like about winter—seeing the footprints in snow of all the creatures who pass through my yard.

Searching online for an historical document, finding a digitized copy I myself made and forgot about.

Maybe this is the year I’ll finally come to terms with verse plays.

For a course on American lit of the Cold War I’ve made a little anthology of poems. Not very adequate, but I do like the bookends; they feel right for 2025: Mina Loy’s “Photo After Pogrom” (1945) and Etel Adnan’s The Arab Apocalypse (1989).

There’s a doctor shortage in these parts and mine left the practice a month ago. Now I get a letter: they’ve reassigned me…to a geriatric nurse. Oof!

Louise Erdrich calling Elizabeth Bishop’s “One Art” “‘Invictus’ for women” — genius.

How we do love our little monsters.

A polite way of saying irrelevant?