trompe-l’oeil on Regent Street
painted woman lounging
in a shop window
Ordinary
A house sparrow touched down
on the corner of the roof.
Ordinary brown, leaflet of no
great importance, bringing no news
to the heartland or the outside world.
Inside my car, engine idling,
I listened to an interview
with the young imam
from the mosque in Iowa.
What is this confusing
intensity to our days,
he said. I want only
for my two daughters
an ordinary life,
a happy life, one
in which they shouldn’t
have to defend themselves
or what they might believe.
In response to Via Negativa: Among royals.
Indiscretion
(Lord’s day). Up and to church, where Mr. Mills, a good sermon, and so home and had a good dinner with my wife, with which I was pleased to see it neatly done, and this troubled me to think of parting with Jane, that is come to be a very good cook. After dinner walked to my Lord Sandwich, and staid with him in the chamber talking almost all the afternoon, he being not yet got abroad since his sickness. Many discourses we had; but, among others, how Sir R. Bernard is turned out of his Recordership of Huntingdon by the Commissioners for Regulation, &c., at which I am troubled, because he, thinking it is done by my Lord Sandwich, will act some of his revenge, it is likely, upon me in my business, so that I must cast about me to get some other counsel to rely upon.
In the evening came Mr. Povey and others to see my Lord, and they gone, my Lord and I and Povey fell to the business of Tangier, as to the victualling, and so broke up, and I, it being a fine frost, my boy lighting me I walked home, and after supper up to prayers, and then alone with my wife and Jane did fall to tell her what I did expect would become of her since, after so long being my servant, she had carried herself so as to make us be willing to put her away, and desired God to bless [her], but bid her never to let me hear what became of her, for that I could never pardon ingratitude. So I to bed, my mind much troubled for the poor girl that she leaves us, and yet she not submitting herself, for some words she spoke boldly and yet I believe innocently and out of familiarity to her mistress about us weeks ago, I could not recall my words that she should stay with me. This day Creed and I walking in White Hall garden did see the King coming privately from my Lady Castlemaine’s; which is a poor thing for a Prince to do; and I expressed my sense of it to Creed in terms which I should not have done, but that I believe he is trusty in that point.
how like a fine frost
my prayers fall on her ear
what ingratitude
the poor words of a liar
words that should stay private
expressed in rust
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 1 February 1662/63
Postseason
Up and to my office, and there we sat till noon. I home to dinner, and there found my plate of the Soverayne with the table to it come from Mr. Christopher Pett, of which I am very glad. So to dinner late, and not very good, only a rabbit not half roasted, which made me angry with my wife. So to the office, and there till late, busy all the while. In the evening examining my wife’s letter intended to my Lady, and another to Mademoiselle; they were so false spelt that I was ashamed of them, and took occasion to fall out about them with my wife, and so she wrote none, at which, however, I was, sorry, because it was in answer to a letter of Madam about business. Late home to supper and to bed.
at home plate
only a rabbit
late in the fall
Erasure haiku derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 31 January 1662/63
Markers
There is a saying: the smallest hurt
lodged in the smallest crevice
of the body is broadcast
throughout its constitution— wisdom
teeth crowding the walls of the mouth,
an ingrown toenail inflaming
the angled groove of the nail bed. Where
does it not hurt right now? Pale
follicles of hair seeded in rows
all over the scalp. The fringe formed
of eyelashes, their hinged movement
barely raising a current of air.
Sustenance
A solemn fast for the King’s murther, and we were forced to keep it more than we would have done, having forgot to take any victuals into the house.
I to church in the forenoon, and Mr. Mills made a good sermon upon David’s heart smiting him for cutting off the garment of Saul.
Home, and whiled away some of the afternoon at home talking with my wife. So to my office, and all alone making up my month’s accounts, which to my great trouble I find that I am got no further than 640l. But I have had great expenses this month. I pray God the next may be a little better, as I hope it will. In the evening my manuscript is brought home handsomely bound, to my full content; and now I think I have a better collection in reference to the Navy, and shall have by the time I have filled it, than any of my predecessors. So home and eat something such as we have, bread and butter and milk, and so to bed.
in the heart of noon
making up my accounts
God may be
little better than bread
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 30 January 1662/63
Signposts
We should be close now,
but then again it could be
another decade or two.
Handhold after handhold,
we learn by touch the longest
part of a minute, the bluest
edges of a shadow.
Inside each cell, there is
either breathing or not
breathing. Soft grey
is the color of certain
parts of earliest
morning. Noon is always
overhead, a chandelier
whose sounds reflect
circles struck by birds
when they’ve returned
to the river.
The moon appears
only as reminder: it’s time
to fold your sleeve into a pillow.
In response to Via Negativa: Landmark.
Preserving an Independent Reality
I envision the room where you spend those
other days, the ones you don’t believe. Does
it hold a sofa, sink-holes straddled by blue
plaid cushions, red lines of Murray of Atholl
tartan diagramming equations from the theory
of relativity?
If it does, invite me.
I would much like to migrate into such
a living room,
perch on the edge of space-time,
compliment the contents of the empty
frames displaying nothing on the wall.
In response to Dave Bonta’s “Believer.” Title drawn from a quotation by Hermann Minkowski.
Landmark
Lay chiding, and then pleased with my wife in bed, and did consent to her having a new waistcoate made her for that which she lost yesterday. So to the office, and sat all the morning. At noon dined with Mr. Coventry at Sir J. Minnes his lodgings, the first time that ever I did yet, and am sorry for doing it now, because of obliging me to do the like to him again. Here dined old Captn. Marsh of the Tower with us. So to visit Sir W. Pen, and then to the office, and there late upon business by myself, my wife being sick to-day. So home and to supper and to bed.
lost
all morning in a marsh
the tower with us
Erasure haiku derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 29 January 1662/63
Quicken
How light
the leaden shoe
which clad
the eager foot—
How loud
the humming
of the seed within
the bursting pod—
How rich
the chalky sums
written on
the slate—
As if it were
your one and only
heart, take and fill
the emptiest cup—
In response to Via Negativa: Smitten.