[My song died,
a note gone to ash.
My flageolette got an ague.
My shot harp sat
in a bed of nails.]
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 30 January 1659/60.
Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).
Just realized you are following him through the year. What a rich mine is Pepys: great choice for an erasure subject.
Yes, so he’s turning out to be. Whether I can keep this going for a whole year (much less ten years), who knows. I’ve given myself permission to skip entries if I can’t find poems in them, but so far I haven’t had to.