Via Negativa

June 14, 2025June 14, 2025 by Luisa A. Igloria

(Lord’s day). To church in the morning and home to dinner, where come my brother Tom and Mr. Fisher, my cozen, Nan Pepys’s second husband, who, I perceive, is a very good-humoured man, an old cavalier. I made as much of him as I could, and were merry, and am glad she hath light of so good a man. They gone, to church again; but my wife not being dressed as I would have her, I was angry, and she, when she was out of doors in her way to church, returned home again vexed. But I to church, Mr. Mills, an ordinary sermon. So home, and found my wife and Sarah gone to a neighbour church, at which I was not much displeased. By and by she comes again, and, after a word or two, good friends. And then her brother came to see her, and he being gone she told me that she believed he was married and had a wife worth 500l. to him, and did inquire how he might dispose the money to the best advantage, but I forbore to advise her till she could certainly tell me how things are with him, being loth to meddle too soon with him. So to walk upon the leads, and to supper, and to bed.

in the morning
the fish perceive
an old mad hat

a man gone
out of doors
after a word or two

to see how certain
things are
to meddle with

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 15 June 1662.

June 13, 2025June 14, 2025 by Luisa A. Igloria

Permanent Address

river in November light between bare woods and mountain

A niece she hasn't heard from in years 
sends an email, asking if she knows where 
her grandmother is buried. It's a curious 
question. Once, long ago, she knew with more 
certainty where to turn after entering the main 
cemetery gates— to the right, within sight 
of but not passing the mausoleum built by 
the wealthiest Chinese merchant in town 
for their matriarch. Then the footpath, 
leading to plots lower down the hill. But
that's the farthest her memory can take her 
now, removed from the physicality of place—
wet moss and mud underfoot, pines standing 
without comment on the periphery. These days, 
people prefer to bring the ashes of their 
dead to columbaria. No map— only some 
kind of index, alphabetical listing; rows 
of identical, numbered boxes.

June 13, 2025 by Dave Bonta

Civil disobedience

Up by four o’clock in the morning and upon business at my office. Then we sat down to business, and about 11 o’clock, having a room got ready for us, we all went out to the Tower-hill; and there, over against the scaffold, made on purpose this day, saw Sir Henry Vane brought. A very great press of people. He made a long speech, many times interrupted by the Sheriff and others there; and they would have taken his paper out of his hand, but he would not let it go. But they caused all the books of those that writ after him to be given the Sheriff; and the trumpets were brought under the scaffold that he might not be heard.
Then he prayed, and so fitted himself, and received the blow; but the scaffold was so crowded that we could not see it done. But Boreman, who had been upon the scaffold, came to us and told us, that first he began to speak of the irregular proceeding against him; that he was, against Magna Charta, denied to have his exceptions against the indictment allowed; and that there he was stopped by the Sheriff. Then he drew out his, paper of notes, and begun to tell them first his life; that he was born a gentleman, that he was bred up and had the quality of a gentleman, and to make him in the opinion of the world more a gentleman, he had been, till he was seventeen years old, a good fellow, but then it pleased God to lay a foundation of grace in his heart, by which he was persuaded, against his worldly interest, to leave all preferment and go abroad, where he might serve God with more freedom. Then he was called home, and made a member of the Long Parliament; where he never did, to this day, any thing against his conscience, but all for the glory of God. Here he would have given them an account of the proceedings of the Long Parliament, but they so often interrupted him, that at last he was forced to give over: and so fell into prayer for England in generall, then for the churches in England, and then for the City of London: and so fitted himself for the block, and received the blow. He had a blister, or issue, upon his neck, which he desired them not hurt: he changed not his colour or speech to the last, but died justifying himself and the cause he had stood for; and spoke very confidently of his being presently at the right hand of Christ; and in all, things appeared the most resolved man that ever died in that manner, and showed more of heat than cowardize, but yet with all humility and gravity. One asked him why he did not pray for the King. He answered, “Nay,” says he, “you shall see I can pray for the King: I pray God bless him!”
The King had given his body to his friends; and, therefore, he told them that he hoped they would be civil to his body when dead; and desired they would let him die like a gentleman and a Christian, and not crowded and pressed as he was.
So to the office a little, and so to the Trinity-house all of us to dinner; and then to the office again all the afternoon till night. So home and to bed. This day, I hear, my Lord Peterborough is come unexpected from Tangier, to give the King an account of the place, which, we fear, is in none of the best condition. We had also certain news to-day that the Spaniard is before Lisbon with thirteen sail; six Dutch, and the rest his own ships; which will, I fear, be ill for Portugall.
I writ a letter of all this day’s proceedings to my Lord, at Hinchingbroke, who, I hear, is very well pleased with the work there.

the sherrif is a scaffold and a blow
but the crowd could stop him

call on his conscience
block his red hand

show him body to body
which news will be broke

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 14 June 1662.

June 12, 2025June 12, 2025 by Luisa A. Igloria

Morph

I spear 
         a melon ball with a blue 
toothpick        When I lay it down 
on a napkin, it leaves 
                        a mark
like a watercolor cloud 
What this means 
                is the shapes 
of any number of things  
are hidden
           inside each other 
They leach out 
at every opportunity
                       Who
wouldn't want to become
something other than
                     their
merely recognizable selves

June 12, 2025 by Dave Bonta

Salvage

This morning I tried on my riding cloth suit with close knees, the first that ever I had; and I think they will be very convenient, if not too hot to wear any other open knees after them. At the office all the morning, where we had a full Board, viz., Sir G. Carteret, Sir John Mennes, Sir W. Batten, Mr. Coventry, Sir W. Pen, Mr. Pett, and myself. Among many other businesses, I did get a vote signed by all, concerning my issuing of warrants, which they did not smell the use I intend to make of it; but it is to plead for my clerks to have their right of giving out all warrants, at which I am not a little pleased. But a great difference happened between Sir G. Carteret and Mr. Coventry, about passing the Victualler’s account, and whether Sir George is to pay the Victualler his money, or the Exchequer; Sir George claiming it to be his place to save his threepences. It ended in anger, and I believe will come to be a question before the King and Council. I did what I could to keep myself unconcerned in it, having some things of my own to do before I would appear high in anything.
Thence to dinner, by Mr. Gauden’s invitation, to the Dolphin, where a good dinner; but what is to myself a great wonder; that with ease I past the whole dinner without drinking a drop of wine.
After dinner to the office, my head full of business, and so home, and it being the longest day in the year, I made all my people go to bed by daylight. But after I was a-bed and asleep, a note came from my brother Tom to tell me that my cozen Anne Pepys, of Worcestershire, her husband is dead, and she married again, and her second husband in town, and intends to come and see me to-morrow.

close to open war
the smell of lead

I try to save
something of wonder

a drop of wine full of daylight
sleep from the dead

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 12 June 1662.

June 11, 2025June 11, 2025 by Luisa A. Igloria

Outpatient Procedure, with Home Improvement Show

At the imaging center, her husband checks in
along with other patients there for MRI or 
tomography scans. After they get tracer  
dye injected in their veins, they'll lie 

on a table fed into a gantry as x-rays rotate 
around their bodies, producing cross-sectioned 
image slices— organs, bones, muscles, blood 
vessels— that can be layered to help 

doctors with diagnoses or treatment. 
She's in the waiting room, where the large TV 
monitor is always tuned to a channel where two men 
go into falling-down houses. They rip apart rotting 

floorboards and waterstained walls like they 
were made of wet cardboard, toss out old bathroom 
fixtures and hardware. They stop frequently to banter, 
as the closed captions show. Later, a female realtor 

will check on their progress; her clients are so 
excited for open house. "Before" and "After" time 
lapse pictures flash on the screen. When her husband 
comes out of his procedure, the show is ready for

the big reveal. It looks as though complete renovation 
took only a week— A family oohs and aahs over a marble-
veneered kitchen island; bold paint colors, massive 
flower vases elevating furniture on a budget.

June 11, 2025 by Dave Bonta

Hyperbolic

At the office all the morning, Sir W. Batten, Sir W. Pen, and I about the Victualler’s accounts. Then home to dinner and to the office again all the afternoon, Mr. Hater and I writing over my Alphabet fair, in which I took great pleasure to rule the lines and to have the capitall words wrote with red ink. So home and to supper. This evening Savill the Paynter came and did varnish over my wife’s picture and mine, and I paid him for my little picture 3l., and so am clear with him. So after supper to bed.
This day I had a letter from my father that he is got down well, and found my mother pretty well again. So that I am vexed with all my heart at Pall for writing to him so much concerning my mother’s illness (which I believe was not so great), so that he should be forced to hasten down on the sudden back into the country without taking leave, or having any pleasure here.

the pen and I writing
all words with red ink

this evening varnish
over my little fat heart

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 11 June 1662.

June 11, 2025 by Dave Bonta

Disconnect

At the office all the morning, much business; and great hopes of bringing things, by Mr. Coventry’s means, to a good condition in the office. Dined at home, Mr. Hunt with us; to the office again in the afternoon, but not meeting, as was intended, I went to my brother’s and bookseller’s, and other places about business, and paid off all for books to this day, and do not intend to buy any more of any kind a good while, though I had a great mind to have bought the King’s works, as they are new printed in folio, and present it to my Lord; but I think it will be best to save the money.
So home and to bed.

all hope bringing us
to ice again

meeting others
out of mind

to work as they are
but think it will save them

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 10 June 1662.

June 10, 2025June 10, 2025 by Luisa A. Igloria

Capture

Procyon lotor


The guys from Acme examine 
the holes some animal harrowed 
in the ground and say, No, not vole
or mole but raccoon— recorded 

on John Smith's list of Powhatan words 
as aroughcun, meaning the one who rubs 
or scratches with its hands. Or variously,
like a rat or a dog that washes its hands.

And so the eponym, after the brightest star
in Canis Minor. A mask, a troop, a gaze of them
seem to have found our backyard hospitable to
their nocturnal rooting and excretion. Perhaps 

they find the fig tree tempting, even if 
the fruit is still mostly green. The animal 
control guys set a trap by the fence, laying out 
a short trail of marshmallows. They'll come out 

every day over the next two weeks to check and
replace traps as needed. Of course it is the lure, 
the old ferment of sugar. We wonder when we'll hear,
in the dark, the clang that precedes the moaning.