"...I just go forward like water, flowing
around obstacles and second thoughts..."
~ Tony Hoagland, "Distant Regard"
Isn't it true though, how everything in life
is a terrible cliché, how we only think
everything that happens to us is original,
that no one has ever felt like us
the same pangs of joy or sorrow or sex,
the calculus of pain, erosions of jealousy.
And you too must learn to live inside
that room called solitude, where furniture
is sparse and there's no TV, no distractions;
where you'll work with the mind's reluctance
to sit still in one place until it stops
fighting the urge to rummage through drawers,
flip switches, wipe all surfaces with disinfectant.
Then one day it just happens: that knot
in the center of your gut doesn't feel so tight
anymore; you look at the silver growth
scattering through your wife's hair, the fine
stippling of age spots across your cheeks,
the dwindling figures in your pocketbook. You hold
them up against the impending future or
the coming end of the world. Perhaps it doesn't
seem so terrible either way: to wind the key
around to the beginning again, or to watch as the fire,
like a good pet, eats the scraps you feed it.
Howling wilderness
Up, and met at the office; Sir W. Batten with us, who come from Portsmouth on Monday last, and hath not been with us to see or discourse with us about any business till this day. At noon to dinner, Sir W. Warren with me on boat, and thence I by water, it being a fearfull cold, snowing day to Westminster to White Hall stairs and thence to Sir G. Downing, to whom I brought the happy newes of my having contracted, as we did this day with Sir W. Warren, for a ship’s lading of Norway goods here and another at Harwich to the value of above 3,000l., which is the first that hath been got upon the New Act, and he is overjoyed with it and tells me he will do me all the right to Court about it in the world, and I am glad I have it to write to Sir W. Coventry to-night. He would fain have me come in 200l. to lend upon the Act, but I desire to be excused in doing that, it being to little purpose for us that relate to the King to do it, for the sum gets the King no courtesy nor credit. So I parted from him and walked to Westminster Hall, where Sir W. Warren, who come along with me, staid for me, and there I did see Betty Howlet come after the sicknesse to the Hall. Had not opportunity to salute her, as I desired, but was glad to see her and a very pretty wench she is. Thence back, landing at the Old Swan and taking boat again at Billingsgate, and setting ashore at home; and I, lying down close in my boat, and there, without use of my hand, had great pleasure, and the first time I did make trial of my strength of fancy of that kind without my hand, and had it complete avec la fille que I did see au-jour-dhuy in Westminster-hall. So to my office and there wrote my letters, and so home to supper and to bed, it being a great frost. Newes is come to-day of our Sounde fleete being come, but I do not know what Sir W. Warren hath insured.
snow is the first
new world we howl at
lying down in it
at first without a sound
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 16 December 1665.
Strange True Facts
If you die in Amsterdam with no next of kin,
and no friends or family to prepare [a] funeral
or mourn over the body, a poet will write
a poem for you and recite it at your funeral.
~ The Fact Site
I don't know what to think of Daddy
Longlegs now that I've learned they
have penises; or what it can mean
that a man made a world record from
breaking 46 wooden toilet seats with
his head. I can't count how many times
my husband has said "Idiot" for each
driver that's done something stupid
on the road. And I'm unsure of what
I might say on meeting an iguana,
now that I've learned they have
a third eye atop their heads
and might be some kind of clair-
voyant. Far away, in search of mad
honey, the Gurung fashion rope ladders
to climb the high cliffs above their village
in Nepal— as if to illustrate a universal
truth: only sweetness which might leave us
reeling on the roadside or kill us
is the only one worth going after.
Call/response
Up, and spent all the morning with my Surveyors of the Ports for the Victualling, and there read to them what instructions I had provided for them and discoursed largely much of our business and the business of the pursers. I left them to dine with my people, and to my Lord Bruncker’s where I met with a great good dinner and Sir T. Teddiman, with whom my Lord and I were to discourse about the bringing of W. Howe to a tryall for his jewells, and there till almost night, and so away toward the office and in my way met with Sir James Bunce; and after asking what newes, he cried “Ah!” says he (I know [not] whether in earnest or jest), “this is the time for you,” says he, “that were for Oliver heretofore; you are full of employment, and we poor Cavaliers sit still and can get nothing;” which was a pretty reproach, I thought, but answered nothing to it, for fear of making it worse. So away and I to see Mrs. Penington, but company being to come to her, I staid not, but to the office a little and so home, and after supper to bed.
a survey
is asking nothing
I answer nothing for fear
of it being me
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 15 December 1665.
To bear
My daughter collects smooth,
large stones where she can find them.
She puts them in a basket and admires
the way their round backs glisten
after she has washed them in the sink—
stripes of grey and tan, chalky white,
mottled blue like eggs from an unknown
species of bird. Lifted from the dirt,
they belie their age. What parts
of the whole do they carry, how long
since they were shorn off another face?
Dry pods bristle across the yard, little
mines of exploded seeds. But there are
some things held indefinitely in the heart.
Purple hearted
Up, and to the office a while with my Lord Bruncker, where we directed Sir W. Warren in the business of the insurance as I desired, and ended some other businesses of his, and so at noon I to London, but the ‘Change was done before I got thither, so I to the Pope’s Head Taverne, and there find Mr. Gawden and Captain Beckford and Nick Osborne going to dinner, and I dined with them and very exceeding merry we were as I had [not] been a great while, and dinner being done I to the East India House and there had an assignment on Mr. Temple for the 2,000l. of Cocke’s, which joyed my heart; so, having seen my wife in the way, I home by water and to write my letters and then home to bed.
the war ended some other me
we were as one
in the assignment of heart
having seen the way to write
letters home
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 14 December 1665.
Cuppa
Up betimes and finished my journall for five days back, and then after being ready to my Lord Bruncker by appointment, there to order the disposing of some money that we have come into the office, and here to my great content I did get a bill of imprest to Captain Cocke to pay myself in part of what is coming to me from him for my Lord Sandwich’s satisfaction and my owne, and also another payment or two wherein I am concerned, and having done that did go to Mr. Pierce’s, where he and his wife made me drink some tea, and so he and I by water together to London. Here at a taverne in Cornhill he and I did agree upon my delivering up to him a bill of Captain Cocke’s, put into my hand for Pierce’s use upon evening of reckonings about the prize goods, and so away to the ‘Change, and there hear the ill news, to my great and all our great trouble, that the plague is encreased again this week, notwithstanding there hath been a day or two great frosts; but we hope it is only the effects of the late close warm weather, and if the frosts continue the next week, may fall again; but the town do thicken so much with people, that it is much if the plague do not grow again upon us. Off the ‘Change invited by Sheriff Hooker, who keeps the poorest, mean, dirty table in a dirty house that ever I did see any Sheriff of London; and a plain, ordinary, silly man I think he is, but rich; only his son, Mr. Lethulier, I like, for a pretty, civil, understanding merchant; and the more by much, because he happens to be husband to our noble, fat, brave lady in our parish, that I and my wife admire so. Thence away to the Pope’s Head Taverne, and there met first with Captain Cocke, and dispatched my business with him to my content, he being ready to sign his bill of imprest of 2,000l., and gives it me in part of his payment to me, which glads my heart. He being gone, comes Sir W. Warren, who advised with me about several things about getting money, and 100l. I shall presently have of him. We advised about a business of insurance, wherein something may be saved to him and got to me, and to that end he and I did take a coach at night and to the Cockepitt, there to get the Duke of Albemarle’s advice for our insuring some of our Sounde goods coming home under Harman’s convoy, but he proved shy of doing it without knowledge of the Duke of Yorke, so we back again and calling at my house to see my wife, who is well; though my great trouble is that our poor little parish is the greatest number this weeke in all the city within the walls, having six, from one the last weeke; and so by water to Greenwich leaving Sir W. Warren at home, and I straight to my Lord Bruncker, it being late, and concluded upon insuring something and to send to that purpose to Sir W. Warren to come to us to-morrow morning. So I home and, my mind in great rest, to bed.
having to drink tea
in a dirty house I hear
the sound of water
Erasure haiku derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 13 December 1665.
Titles of poems I’d like to write
Inscrutable nests of hair
in the morning
Ten thousand tears
and a stale bun
Let's tell each other
of mystery
When a wave takes back
the land we never owned
When I remember the story of warriors
springing up out of a field of corn
When the body doesn't know it is a weapon
only that it is soft
The camera doesn't see inside
the bolt of lightning
Some things occur with no apparent pattern
I'd rather think of apocrypha as works
of unknown rather than doubtful origin
Who has written as many notebooks
as sunlight?
A large waterfall, a cascade
The glistening lens of the eye
becoming opaque
In a murmuration, all birds
except the first fly in the upwash
from one of the wingtip vortices ahead
Shark week
Up, and to the office, where my Lord Bruncker met, and among other things did finish a contract with Cocke for hemp, by which I hope to get my money due from him paid presently. At noon home to dinner, only eating a bit, and with much kindness taking leave of Mr. Hill who goes away to-day, and so I by water saving the tide through Bridge and to Sir G. Downing by appointment at Charing Crosse, who did at first mightily please me with informing me thoroughly the virtue and force of this Act, and indeed it is ten times better than ever I thought could have been said of it, but when he come to impose upon me that without more ado I must get by my credit people to serve in goods and lend money upon it and none could do it better than I, and the King should give me thanks particularly in it, and I could not get him to excuse me, but I must come to him though to no purpose on Saturday, and that he is sure I will bring him some bargains or other made upon this Act, it vexed me more than all the pleasure I took before, for I find he will be troublesome to me in it, if I will let him have as much of my time as he would have. So late I took leave and in the cold (the weather setting in cold) home to the office and, after my letters being wrote, home to supper and to bed, my wife being also gone to London.
I am the thin
fin in the tide
to point is better than to impose
excuse me but I must find
as much time as the weather
to let be
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 12 December 1665.
Windows
The marks of fingertips on fruit,
their bruise--- meaning it is rendered
sweet; meaning the milk-poison
has been leached. And luck
is what comes sometimes after loss,
meaning the path you took wasn't
the one you were given. Before I
learned of groups of musicians
in black playing instruments together,
Symphony was the name of my grandfather's
barbershop: where he cut hair quietly,
and what fell was like soft, dark grass.