Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
O infinity of papers, give a piece of me
to the surgeon, to soldiers, to the town
where I seem a dull heavy man.
I had a mind to some cabbage,
I sent for some and had it.
A strange thing how I am
already in the book
of rain and night.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 14 March 1659/60.
Dave Bonta (bio) often suffers from imposter syndrome, but not in a bad way — more like some kind of flower-breathing dragon, pot-bellied and igneous. Be that as it may, all of his writing here 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).
I love
‘a strange thing how I am
already in the book
of rain and night’.
Oh, thanks! For some reason, I associate the taste of boiled cabbage with rain.
exactly the lines I was going to applaud