Toward the end

it's said the body can muster
a last gust of energy, show of bravura,
strength enough to spring up from bed
and hurl a chair or dinner plate
at the figure it senses is just waiting
for the appointed hour—He's the one
who must have left those piles of mud
and streaks of mildew on bathroom tile,
left clumps of hair and trays of rotting
food on the kitchen counter. He's taken
books off the shelves, ashtrays from the end
tables. It wouldn't come as a surprise if one
morning he slid a fold of skin open
and slipped a stone into the place
where the heart used to be.

War heads

Up, and to the office, where little business done, our heads being full of expectation of the fleete’s being engaged, but no certain notice of it, only Sheppeard in the Duke’s yacht left them yesterday morning within a league of the Dutch fleete, and making after them, they standing into the sea. At noon to dinner, and after dinner with Mercer (as of late my practice is) a song and so to the office, there to set up again my frames about my Platts, which I have got to be all gilded, and look very fine, and then to my business, and busy very late, till midnight, drawing up a representation of the state of my victualling business to the Duke, I having never appeared to him doing anything yet and therefore I now do it in writing, I now having the advantage of having had two fleetes dispatched in better condition than ever any fleetes were yet, I believe; at least, with least complaint, and by this means I shall with the better confidence get my bills out for my salary.
So home to bed.

our heads aged and gilded
look fine to the state
ever eared
doing no writing
patched and mean

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 24 July 1666.