Next Wednesday - opening night of Doc Fortnight at MoMA Film MoMA The Museum of Modern Art, Jenny Perlin's BUNKER, co-produced by me. Tickets online at MoMA. moma.org/calendar/event…

"It's falling, Mother, snow in Ukraine" --Paul Celan (written in 1943, when Celan learned of the death of his mother in the Nazi camp, it's first time a name of any country enters his poetry. Given our moment, this line rings w/ so many different connotations today.)

Ilya Kaminsky was born in Odessa, Ukraine. He wrote this poem in 2013.

Some of my family lived in Odessa too. Long ago. I've been thinking about this poem. Kaminsky lived in Odessa.

utopias can crumble in that split second, and you may wake up finding you have more than you ever wanted to own, but by that time the dream is falling in on itself in slow motion or someone is dismantling it. —John Ashbery (from FLOW CHART) #AshberyWednesday

On the left, Jon Hamm. At right, my cousin John Mankiewicz aka John Mankiewicz who’s known everywhere as “the Jon Hamm of the Mankiewicz family.” deadline.com/2022/04/jon-ha…

'This house is a mess. I have so much work to do,' said Toad. Frog looked through the window. 'Toad, you are right,' said Frog. 'It is a mess.' Toad pulled the covers over his head.

Lol. Except mine- and you know him Josh Mankiewicz so you’d tell me if I should be concerned. Xx

you, with your point-blank fury, what if I told you this is all there ever was —Lucille Clifton

Rereading Vendler's review of A Wave (nybooks.com/articles/1984/…) and I still love this: "There seems to be a general belief among readers that to write about 'poetry' is somehow not to write about 'life.' But 'poetry' is the construction by consciousness of an apprehensible world."

On this day in 1972, my father woke up to a ringing telephone, listened for a moment and said "I'll be damned" into the phone five straight times —then told me to get ready for a huge political scandal. #Watergate

On what would have been Ashbery’s 95th. “And now that the end is near // The segments of the trip swing open like an orange. / There is light in there, and mystery and food. / Come see it. Come not for me but for it. / But if I am still there, grant that we may see each other.”

How sad that everything has to change, Yet what a relief. —John Ashbery (from WORDS TO THAT EFFECT))

Keats wrote “To Autumn” 203 years ago today. Let’s all read it tonight.

Anyone want to buy a movie theatre on the coast of Maine? belfastre.com/homes-for-sale…

Thank you unamannion & Guardian Books ! A pleasure to be in such good company. Alfred A. Knopf Maylin Lehmann Hobaica

This will be great, coming next week from my cousin John Mankiewicz #TheBigLie ⁦John Mankiewicz⁩

The Paris Review mourns the loss of Louise Glück (1943-2023). In celebration of her life and work, we’ve unlocked her poems from our archive. theparisreview.org/authors/26185/…

This is a picture I took of Louise Glück receiving her Nobel medal in her backyard during Covid. It was such a great moment for lyric poetry--restrained yet emotional--being elevated to the world stage. I took the picture from her back porch.