Lo, the trumpeters give a sound
of the rump this morning,
a wind to the leg where a carp
is put into good posture.
My art is talk—
and after talk, the bed.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 2 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 4.0 International 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).
Can’t . . . stop . . . laughing!