Against nature

(Lord’s day). A most tedious, unseasonable, and impertinent sermon, by an Irish Doctor. His text was “Scatter them, O Lord, that delight in war.” Sir Wm. Batten and I very much angry with the parson. And so I to Westminster as soon as I came home to my Lord’s, where I dined with Mr. Shepley and Howe. After dinner (without speaking to my Lord), Mr. Shepley and I into the city, and so I home and took my wife to my uncle Wight’s, and there did sup with them, and so home again and to bed.

Unseasonable light:
war, arson,
a city.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 17 February 1660/61.

Snow follies

Snow doesn’t stop falling
when it hits the ground;
it just slows down for a while.

It’s like that talk-show host
who ridiculed the idea
of a day-time moon—

how I relished his show’s
slow collapse, despite
its glut of glitterati.

Businessman’s prayer

To my Lord in the morning, who looked over my accounts and agreed to them. I did also get him to sign a bill (which do make my heart merry) for 60l. to me, in consideration of my work extraordinary at sea this last voyage, which I hope to get paid.
I dined with my Lord and then to the Theatre, where I saw “The Virgin Martyr,” a good but too sober a play for the company. Then home.

Lord, look over my greed.
Make my heart err
for my work,
a martyr to the company.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 16 February 1660/61.

Head cold

The house is pinned
under heavy snow.
My head fills with mucus.

Icy limbs strain
to reach the ground,
alternately melting and freezing.

I drip in the noon-time glare.
Let me be replenished
in nightly increments.

Clarity

At the office all the morning, and in the afternoon at making up my accounts for my Lord to-morrow; and that being done I found myself to be clear (as I think) 350l. in the world, besides my goods in my house and all things paid for.

ice all morning
making a clear world


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 15 February 1660/61.

Deep snow

In all this blankness,
a squirrel finds the precise spot
it buried a nut.

Breaking trail with snowshoes,
I choose to believe
I’m half-floating, not half-sinking.

Clumps of snow sail off the trees,
making a random scatter
of oblong prints.

Rosebush

(Valentine’s day). Up early and to Sir W. Batten’s, but would not go in till I asked whether they that opened the door was a man or a woman, and Mingo, who was there, answered a woman, which, with his tone, made me laugh.
So up I went and took Mrs. Martha for my Valentine (which I do only for complacency), and Sir W. Batten he go in the same manner to my wife, and so we were very merry.
About 10 o’clock we, with a great deal of company, went down by our barge to Deptford, and there only went to see how forward Mr. Pett’s yacht is; and so all into the barge again, and so to Woolwich, on board the Rose-bush, Captain Brown’s ship, that is brother-in-law to Sir W. Batten, where we had a very fine dinner, dressed on shore, and great mirth and all things successfull; the first time I ever carried my wife a-ship-board, as also my boy Wayneman, who hath all this day been called young Pepys, as Sir W. Pen’s boy young Pen.
So home by barge again; good weather, but pretty cold. I to my study, and began to make up my accounts for my Lord, which I intend to end tomorrow.
To bed.
The talk of the town now is, who the King is like to have for his Queen: and whether Lent shall be kept with the strictness of the King’s proclamation; which it is thought cannot be, because of the poor, who cannot buy fish. And also the great preparation for the King’s crowning is now much thought upon and talked of.

Great company
is the rosebush,
hip to fine-dressed hip
like a queen, with
the strictness of the poor
who cannot buy a crown.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 14 February 1660/61.

Rabbit

A rabbit has squeezed
into a ring of fencing
to browse on dogwood sprouts

and can’t get out.
The snow crunches under
my boots as I loom up,

the small animal
beating against its cage
like a panicked heart.

February romance

At the office all the morning; dined at home, and poor Mr. Wood with me, who after dinner would have borrowed money of me, but I would lend none. Then to Whitehall by coach with Sir W. Pen, where we did very little business, and so back to Mr. Rawlinson’s, where I took him and gave him a cup of wine, he having formerly known Mr. Rawlinson, and here I met my uncle Wight, and he drank with us, and with him to Sir W. Batten’s, whither I sent for my wife, and we chose Valentines against to-morrow. My wife chose me, which did much please me; my Lady Batten Sir W. Pen, &c. Here we sat late, and so home to bed, having got my Lady Batten to give me a spoonful of honey for my cold.

Dine me, wine me,
know me and Valentine me,
please me, give me
a spoonful of honey
for my cold.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 13 February 1660/61.

Valentine’s Day dreams

First an opossum crawls into our bed.
He’s tame, you cry.
Those are just love-bites.

Then it’s a long-haired white cat,
purring and snuggling.
Get her out of here, you groan.

I wake to a heavy snowfall,
the old dog statue in the yard
just a bump under the blanket.


Right after drafting this poem, I found out that Rachel’s (short-haired) white cat in London was killed last night. RIP Mario.