Old farm

Sam Pepys and me

Up, but cannot get up so early as I was wont, nor my mind to business as it should be and used to be before this dancing. However, to my office, where most of the morning talking of Captain Cox of Chatham about his and the whole yard’s difference against Mr. Barrow the storekeeper, wherein I told him my mind clearly, that he would be upheld against the design of any to ruin him, he being we all believed, but Sir W. Batten his mortal enemy, as good a servant as any the King has in the yard.
After much good advice and other talk I home and danced with Pembleton, and then the barber trimmed me, and so to dinner, my wife and I having high words about her dancing to that degree that I did enter and make a vow to myself not to oppose her or say anything to dispraise or correct her therein as long as her month lasts, in pain of 2s. 6d. for every time, which, if God pleases, I will observe, for this roguish business has brought us more disquiett than anything has happened a great while.
After dinner to my office, where late, and then home; and Pembleton being there again, we fell to dance a country dance or two, and so to supper and bed. But being at supper my wife did say something that caused me to oppose her in, she used the word devil, which vexed me, and among other things I said I would not have her to use that word, upon which she took me up most scornfully, which, before Ashwell and the rest of the world, I know not now-a-days how to check, as I would heretofore, for less than that would have made me strike her. So that I fear without great discretion I shall go near to lose too my command over her, and nothing do it more than giving her this occasion of dancing and other pleasures, whereby her mind is taken up from her business and finds other sweets besides pleasing of me, and so makes her that she begins not at all to take pleasure in me or study to please me as heretofore. But if this month of her dancing were but out (as my first was this night, and I paid off Pembleton for myself) I shall hope with a little pains to bring her to her old wont. This day Susan that lived with me lately being out of service, and I doubt a simple wench, my wife do take her for a little time to try her at least till she goes into the country, which I am yet doubtful whether it will be best for me to send her or no, for fear of her running off in her liberty before I have brought her to her right temper again.

how to keep up a ruin
we believe in

words about anything
go quiet among the corn

and the rest of the world
how to lose it

giving up dancing to live
out in the country


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 21 May 1663.

It was

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
a jewel of an egg, thieved by a crow out of the maple.
Small and blue, likely speckled. Tempting to say history
is like that, gone in a flash. Except there's no augury here,
only inventory. There can be comfort from skipping myth
and squarely facing the ordinary. Rilke said love the questions.
Wait. Was't that live the questions? By which he meant come out
sometimes from those rooms where you've locked yourself away
like a book or a hermit or someone who merely trades their labor
for pay. Drudge, nine-to-fiver, yes-man, hireling, hand. A friend
told me she has a simple prayer for everything: Really, God?
I laugh, like someone in the green shallows of a fishbowl,
circling the cloverleaf for the hundredth time. A skylight
gleams overhead, wreathed in brambles. From endless
listening, I think I have some knowledge of translation.

Follower

Sam Pepys and me

Up and to my office, and anon home and to see my wife dancing with Pembleton about noon, and I to the Trinity House to dinner and after dinner home, and there met Pembleton, who I perceive has dined with my wife, which she takes no notice of, but whether that proceeds out of design, or fear to displease me I know not, but it put me into a great disorder again, that I could mind nothing but vexing, but however I continued my resolution of going down by water to Woolwich, took my wife and Ashwell; and going out met Mr. Howe come to see me, whose horse we caused to be set up, and took him with us. The tide against us, so I went ashore at Greenwich before, and did my business at the yard about putting things in order as to their proceeding to build the new yacht ordered to be built by Christopher Pett, and so to Woolwich town, where at an alehouse I found them ready to attend my coming, and so took boat again, it being cold, and I sweating, with my walk, which was very pleasant along the green corne and pease, and most of the way sang, he and I, and eat some cold meat we had, and with great pleasure home, and so he took horse again, and Pembleton coming, we danced a country dance or two and so broke up and to bed, my mind restless and like to be so while she learns to dance. God forgive my folly.

out of fear
I know nothing

my own water
going out with the tide

and the new order
coming in cold and green

the old horse and I
we learn to dance


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 20 May 1663.

Hothouse

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
 
Thumbing through a book from 1915, I marvel
at the nearly floor-length hair of girls and women.

They sit on the stairs, one in front of the other,
plying tortoise shell combs.

I can almost smell the fragrance of coconut oil
worked through their blue-black tresses.

Their fingers are cool and delicate, intimacies
keyed into each wrist.

Summer isn't upon them yet, but is approaching.

They haven't shed their elaborate layers of clothing—
shawls on top of heavy blouses, voluminous skirts.

Today I heard someone wish for rain.

I admit, when the air is humid, it's like a hand
pressing down on my brain to see how soon I'll yield.

I long for cool, still nights, talking crickets.

It feels nice to run my hands over yellowed keys,
though the piano is severely out of tune.

Doppler Effect

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
At the heart hospital, I lie on the imaging
table, looking up at the bland ceiling
while the technician gets ready to slick
gel on one end of the transducer. In this
soundproofed room, we don't hear the traffic
thickening on Brambleton. But when she engages
the Doppler, waves of gray appear on the bottom
of the screen and a whooshing sound pulses near
my ear— like wind across a beach, waves coming in
and eddying around the twin islands of
my kidneys. The vascular ultrasound machine
has opened this window into my own interior
and suddenly I'm reminded of how my body can feel
spacious or cluttered in ways I forget
on a daily basis— like when I struggle with
the waistband of a pair of old jeans, or feel
the hot burn of spice travel from my mouth, down
through my esophagus. The technician tells me
to hold my breath and I do, while on the screen,
something flickers and pulses, still keeping time
in spite of me. Blue, she tells me, is the track of
blood flowing away; and red, toward the organ.
I am traveler and terrain, vessel and cargo,
the untranslatable rendered legible.

A better world

Sam Pepys and me

Up pretty betimes, but yet I observe how my dancing and lying a morning or two longer than ordinary for my cold do make me hard to rise as I used to do, or look after my business as I am wont.
To my chamber to make an end of my papers to my father to be sent by the post to-night, and taking copies of them, which was a great work, but I did it this morning, and so to my office, and thence with Sir John Minnes to the Tower; and by Mr. Slingsby, and Mr. Howard, Controller of the Mint, we were shown the method of making this new money, from the beginning to the end, which is so pretty that I did take a note of every part of it and set them down by themselves for my remembrance hereafter. That being done it was dinner time, and so the Controller would have us dine with him and his company, the King giving them a dinner every day. And very merry and good discourse about the business we have been upon, and after dinner went to the Assay Office and there saw the manner of assaying of gold and silver, and how silver melted down with gold do part, just being put into aqua-fortis, the silver turning into water, and the gold lying whole in the very form it was put in, mixed of gold and silver, which is a miracle; and to see no silver at all but turned into water, which they can bring again into itself out of the water.
And here I was made thoroughly to understand the business of the fineness and coarseness of metals, and have put down my lessons with my other observations therein.
At table among other discourse they told us of two cheats, the best I ever heard. One, of a labourer discovered to convey away the bits of silver cut out pence by swallowing them down into his belly, and so they could not find him out, though, of course, they searched all the labourers; but, having reason to doubt him, they did, by threats and promises, get him to confess, and did find 7l. of it in his house at one time.
The other of one that got a way of coyning money as good and passable and large as the true money is, and yet saved fifty per cent. to himself, which was by getting moulds made to stamp groats like old groats, which is done so well, and I did beg two of them which I keep for rarities, that there is not better in the world, and is as good, nay, better than those that commonly go, which was the only thing that they could find out to doubt them by, besides the number that the party do go to put off, and then coming to the Comptroller of the Mint, he could not, I say, find out any other thing to raise any doubt upon, but only their being so truly round or near it, though I should never have doubted the thing neither. He was neither hanged nor burned, the cheat was thought so ingenious, and being the first time they could ever trap him in it, and so little hurt to any man in it, the money being as good as commonly goes.
Thence to the office till the evening, we sat, and then by water (taking Pembleton with us), over the water to the Halfway House, where we played at ninepins, and there my damned jealousy took fire, he and my wife being of a side and I seeing of him take her by the hand in play, though I now believe he did [it] only in passing and sport. Thence home and being 10 o’clock was forced to land beyond the Custom House, and so walked home and to my office, and having dispatched my great letters by the post to my father, of which I keep copies to show by me and for my future understanding, I went home to supper and bed, being late.The most observables in the making of money which I observed to-day, is the steps of their doing it.
1. Before they do anything they assay the bullion, which is done, if it be gold, by taking an equal weight of that and of silver, of each a small weight, which they reckon to be six ounces or half a pound troy; this they wrap up in within lead.
If it be silver, they put such a quantity of that alone and wrap it up in lead, and then putting them into little earthen cupps made of stuff like tobacco pipes, and put them into a burning hot furnace, where, after a while, the whole body is melted, and at last the lead in both is sunk into the body of the cupp, which carries away all the copper or dross with it, and left the pure gold and silver embodyed together, of that which hath both been put into the cupp together, and the silver alone in these where it was put alone in the leaden case. And to part the silver and the gold in the first experiment, they put the mixed body into a glass of aqua-fortis, which separates them by spitting out the silver into such small parts that you cannot tell what it becomes, but turns into the very water and leaves the gold at the bottom clear of itself, with the silver wholly spit out, and yet the gold in the form that it was doubled together in when it was a mixed body of gold and silver, which is a great mystery; and after all this is done to get the silver together out of the water is as strange.
But the nature of the assay is thus: the piece of gold that goes into the furnace twelve ounces, if it comes out again eleven ounces, and the piece of silver which goes in twelve and comes out again eleven and two pennyweight, are just of the alloy of the standard of England. If it comes out, either of them, either the gold above eleven, as very fine will sometimes within very little of what it went in, or the silver above eleven and two pennyweight, as that also will sometimes come out eleven and ten penny weight or more, they are so much above the goodness of the standard, and so they know what proportion of worse gold and silver to put to such a quantity of the bullion to bring it to the exact standard. And on the contrary, [if] it comes out lighter, then such a weight is beneath the standard, and so requires such a proportion of fine metal to be put to the bullion to bring it to the standard, and this is the difference of good and bad, better and worse than the standard, and also the difference of standards, that of Seville being the best and that of Mexico worst, and I think they said none but Seville is better than ours.
2. They melt it into long plates, which, if the mould do take ayre, then the plate is not of an equal heaviness in every part of it, as it often falls out.
3. They draw these plates between rollers to bring them to an even thickness all along and every plate of the same thickness, and it is very strange how the drawing it twice easily between the rollers will make it as hot as fire, yet cannot touch it.
4. They bring it to another pair of rollers, which they call adjusting it, which bring it to a greater exactness in its thickness than the first could be.
5. They cut them into round pieces, which they do with the greatest ease, speed, and exactness in the world.
6. They weigh these, and where they find any to be too heavy they file them, which they call sizeing them; or light, they lay them by, which is very seldom, but they are of a most exact weight, but however, in the melting, all parts by some accident not being close alike, now and then a difference will be, and, this filing being done, there shall not be any imaginable difference almost between the weight of forty of these against another forty chosen by chance out of all their heaps.
7. These round pieces having been cut out of the plates, which in passing the rollers are bent, they are sometimes a little crooked or swelling out or sinking in, and therefore they have a way of clapping 100 or 2 together into an engine, which with a screw presses them so hard that they come out as flat as is possible.
8. They blanch them.
9. They mark the letters on the edges, which is kept as the great secret by Blondeau, who was not in the way, and so I did not speak with him to-day.
10. They mill them, that is, put on the marks on both sides at once with great exactness and speed, and then the money is perfect.
The mill is after this manner: one of the dyes, which has one side of the piece cut, is fastened to a thing fixed below, and the other dye (and they tell me a payre of dyes will last the marking of 10,000l. before it be worn out, they and all other their tools being made of hardened steel, and the Dutchman who makes them is an admirable artist, and has so much by the pound for every pound that is coyned to find a constant supply of dyes) to an engine above, which is moveable by a screw, which is pulled by men; and then a piece being clapped by one sitting below between the two dyes, when they meet the impression is set, and then the man with his finger strikes off the piece and claps another in, and then the other men they pull again and that is marked, and then another and another with great speed.
They say that this way is more charge to the King than the old way, but it is neater, freer from clipping or counterfeiting, the putting of the words upon the edges being not to be done (though counterfeited) without an engine of the charge and noise that no counterfeit will be at or venture upon, and it employs as many men as the old and speedier.
They now coyne between 16l. and 24,000l. in a week.
At dinner they did discourse very finely to us of the probability that there is a vast deal of money hid in the land, from this:—
That in King Charles’s time there was near ten millions of money coyned, besides what was then in being of King James’s and Queene Elizabeth’s, of which there is a good deal at this day in being.
Next, that there was but 750,000l. coyned of the Harp and Crosse money, and of this there was 500,000l. brought in upon its being called in. And from very good arguments they find that there cannot be less of it in Ireland and Scotland than 100,000l.; so that there is but 150,000l. missing; and of that, suppose that there should be not above 650,000 still remaining, either melted down, hid, or lost, or hoarded up in England, there will then be but 100,000l. left to be thought to have been transported.
Now, if 750,000l. in twelve years’ time lost but a 100,000l. in danger of being transported, then within thirty-five years’ time will have lost but 3,888,880l. and odd pounds; and as there is 650,000l. remaining after twelve years’ time in England, so after thirty-five years’ time, which was within this two years, there ought in proportion to have been resting 6,111,120l. or thereabouts, beside King James’s and Queen Elizabeth’s money.
Now that most of this must be hid is evident, as they reckon, because of the dearth of money immediately upon the calling-in of the State’s money, which was 500,000l. that came in; and yet there was not any money to be had in this City, which they say to their own observation and knowledge was so. And therefore, though I can say nothing in it myself, I do not dispute it.

I observe how ordinary
is this miracle of a laborer

swallowing down into his belly
all threats and promises

like a better world
so truly round
so little hurt to any man in it

though I now believe
only in the fat of my future

in the earth like a furnace where
the whole body is melted

and at last turns clear
for it is a great mystery

water comes and goes
it requires air

strange how we make
yet cannot touch

another world they find
too heavy or light

like any imaginable difference
between chance and art

so moveable the finger
putting words upon
the millions missing

lost in thought or in time
lost in the earth


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 19 May 1663

Veined

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
The thin veined leaves— I see 
their undersides as they turn

toward window light. You know you're in
the presence of language that speaks

from the depths when you feel the skin
trying to keep it all in. As soon as my head

touches the pillow, the ghosts of my dead
crowd around me like petals. If they wanted it,

I'd offer my heart to them like a sweet.
But they say they don't. Their fingers comb

through my hair the way wind moves down
the limbs of the crepe myrtle. After a good

shaking, the earth around it is covered
with drifts of pale purple and pink.

Do they offer instruction, warning, hope?
They only circle my head like moons

freed from their usual orbit. I keep trying to break
language into patterns that will mean something

beyond myself. I think of the mulberries I picked
from a friend's garden, how even as half of them

sank into swift ferment, their skin still gleamed.
Night, too, presses its blue bruise against

the house walls. Everything can fold back into itself,
and my ghosts slip back like leaves into the pages of

a book. After, the air feels like it does after someone
has said something so real, it becomes unrepeatable

Poetry Blog Digest 2026, Week 20

Poetry Blogging Network

A personal selection of posts from around the Anglophone blogosphere, including Substack, with a commitment to following a somewhat haphazardly chosen selection of poets, poetry lovers, literary critics and publishers over time. Although I tend to quote my favorite bits, please do click through and read the whole posts. You can also browse the blog digest archive at Via Negativa or, if you’d like it in your inbox, subscribe on Substack (where the posts might be truncated by some email providers).

This week: a lion-faced serpent god, the preserved body of a billionaire, memories of tap dancing, a brown-paper-bag existence, and much more. Enjoy.

Continue reading “Poetry Blog Digest 2026, Week 20”

Hunter

Sam Pepys and me

Up and after taking leave of Sir W. Batten, who is gone this day towards Portsmouth (to little purpose, God knows) upon his survey, I home and spent the morning at dancing; at noon Creed dined with us and Mr. Deane of Woolwich, and so after dinner came Mr. Howe, who however had enough for his dinner, and so, having done, by coach to Westminster, she to Mrs. Clerke and I to St. James’s, where the Duke being gone down by water to-day with the King I went thence to my Lord Sandwich’s lodgings, where Mr. Howe and I walked a while, and going towards Whitehall through the garden Dr. Clerk and Creed called me across the bowling green, and so I went thither and after a stay went up to Mrs. Clerke who was dressing herself to go abroad with my wife. But, Lord! in what a poor condition her best chamber is, and things about her, for all the outside and show that she makes, but I found her just such a one as Mrs. Pierce, contrary to my expectation, so much that I am sick and sorry to see it.
Thence for an hour Creed and I walked to White Hall, and into the Park, seeing the Queen and Maids of Honour passing through the house going to the Park. But above all, Mrs. Stuart is a fine woman, and they say now a common mistress to the King, as my Lady Castlemaine is; which is a great pity. Thence taking a coach to Mrs. Clerke’s, took her, and my wife, and Ashwell, and a Frenchman, a kinsman of hers, to the Park, where we saw many fine faces, and one exceeding handsome, in a white dress over her head, with many others very beautiful. Staying there till past eight at night, I carried Mrs. Clerke and her Frenchman, who sings well, home, and thence home ourselves, talking much of what we had observed to-day of the poor household stuff of Mrs. Clerke and mere show and flutter that she makes in the world; and pleasing myself in my own house and manner of living more than ever I did by seeing how much better and more substantially I live than others do.
So to supper and bed.

who knows who
I am to the owl

passing through
her ash-white head
her beautiful night

the flutter she makes
in the world by seeing
better than others


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 18 May 1663.

Arrangements

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
Of course I know it's bait. 
The algorithm seems clairvoyant,
every ad on my feed picking up
on that one time I stopped to read
the made-up stories of silver-
haired couples, probate lawyers,
locked accounts, missing passwords
and how touch and facial recognition
no longer work when you're dead.
It's almost sweet, the way they pitch
the idea of a clean finish. But also
there's threat (think of signatures
aligned like teeth) behind the smooth,
imagined voice that says order now
what you'll need at the end if you really
care for those who'll have to clean up
your mess. I restrain the impulse to buy—
the plot, the planner, the tidy record
keeper— not already gone, not quite
leaving nor convinced I'm turning
into the ghost of me.