Once, I was told certain stones sleep like stars buried in mineral veins and clay. They give off specific energies compiled through the years— Once, my wrists were wrapped with beads of turquoise; my neck, strung with jade. Citrine, sandalwood, tulsi, bone. Streaked tiger's eye, chipped sapphires that found their way onto plated chains. What cost to pin belief upon a collar, wear the nub of hope on a finger or dangling from our ears? Luck, love, lightness; a heart plucked free of pain or worry. More than these, the patience with which to sit through long epochs of unknowing.
Elated
News of Peace. Conning my gamut.
*
(Sunday). Dined at Brouncker’s, and saw the new book. Peace. Cutting away sails.
news
of peace
o I am sun in sand
the new cut in a sail
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys: unfinished entries for Saturday 11 April and Sunday 12 April 1668
Three Sketches
On the deck, before the rain, two dun-colored birds. I open the screen door to panic. * Pruned at the end of winter, but now the branches of the fig bend low to the grass again. * Kept indoors over a year, the Buddha's hand: its leaves whiten, unused to direct sun.
Unpenned
(Friday) All the morning at Office. At noon with W. Pen to Duke of York, and attended Council. So to piper and Duck Lane, and there kissed bookseller’s wife, and bought Legend. So home, coach. Sailor. Mrs. Hannam dead.
Friday off
o pen
tend to the books
if I am dead
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 10 April 1668
Scintilla
How long does it take to adjhust to the condition of permanent surveillance Imagine having to hold your spine straight your shoulders square In a deserted square one lamp crowded by tiny wings The buzz before or after they touch
House-bound
Up, and to the office, where all the morning sitting, then at noon home to dinner with my people, and so to the office again writing of my letters, and then abroad to my bookseller’s, and up and down to the Duke of York’s playhouse, there to see, which I did, Sir W. Davenant’s corpse carried out towards Westminster, there to be buried. Here were many coaches and six horses, and many hacknies, that made it look, methought, as if it were the buriall of a poor poet. He seemed to have many children, by five or six in the first mourning-coach, all boys. And there I left them coming forth, and I to the New Exchange, there to meet Mrs. Burroughs, and did take her in a carosse and carry elle towards the Park, kissing her and tocanda su breast, so as to make myself do; but did not go into any house, but come back and set her down at White Hall, and did give her wrapt in paper for my Valentine’s gift for the last year before this, which I never did yet give her anything for, twelve half-crowns, and so back home and there to my office, where come a packet from the Downes from my brother Balty, who, with Harman, is arrived there, of which this day come the first news. And now the Parliament will be satisfied, I suppose, about the business they have so long desired between Brouncker and Harman about not prosecuting the first victory. Balty is very well, and I hope hath performed his work well, that I may get him into future employment. I wrote to him this night, and so home, and there to the perfecting my getting the scale of musique without book, which I have done to perfection backward and forward, and so to supper and to bed.
where I sit writing
an ant’s corpse
carried out as if it were
the burial of a poor poet
I make myself a house
wrapped in paper
my Valentine’s gift
for the last year
a book done to perfection
for a bed
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 9 April 1668
Detour
Who made up that myth of happiness,
the kind supposedly only as happy
as the most unhappy of one's children?
Some mornings, the tide rises to cover
part of the road nearest the low curve at the river's
broken lip. There are clear marks where vehicles
have skirted water's habitual edge. Rise and ebb,
increment by increment. Grass hasn't stopped
growing there. Many of our thoughts don't always
distinguish which words to believe, which
are stuck in the mud of common wisdom. Anyone
would know the laundry won't come clean there.
Harmonious
Up, and at my office all the morning, doing business, and then at noon home to dinner all alone. Then to White Hall with Sir J. Minnes in his coach to attend the Duke of York upon our usual business, which was this day but little, and thence with Lord Brouncker to the Duke of York’s playhouse, where we saw “The Unfortunate Lovers,” no extraordinary play, methinks, and thence I to Drumbleby’s, and there did talk a great deal about pipes; and did buy a recorder, which I do intend to learn to play on, the sound of it being, of all sounds in the world, most pleasing to me. Thence home, and to visit Mrs. Turner, where among other talk, Mr. Foly and her husband being there, she did tell me of young Captain Holmes’s marrying of Pegg Lowther last Saturday by stealth, which I was sorry for, he being an idle rascal, and proud, and worth little, I doubt; and she a mighty pretty, well-disposed lady, and good fortune. Her mother and friends take on mightily; but the sport is, Sir Robert Holmes do seem to be mad too with his brother, and will disinherit him, saying that he hath ruined himself, marrying below himself, and to his disadvantage; whereas, I said, in this company, that I had married a sister lately, with little above half that portion, that he should have kissed her breech before he should have had her, which, if R. Holmes should hear, would make a great quarrel; but it is true I am heartily sorry for the poor girl that is undone by it. So home to my chamber, to be fingering of my Recorder, and getting of the scale of musique without book, which I at last see is necessary for a man that would understand musique, as it is now taught to understand, though it be a ridiculous and troublesome way, and I know I shall be able hereafter to show the world a simpler way; but, like the old hypotheses in philosophy, it must be learned, though a man knows a better. Then to supper, and to bed. This morning Mr. Christopher Pett’s widow and daughter come to me, to desire my help to the King and Duke of York, and I did promise, and do pity her.
I intend to learn the sound
all sounds sing
where you and I inherit a ruin
where half a kiss would undo me
music without music
to show the world a simpler way
like the old pot must know
a better supper
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 8 April 1668
Love is the Condition of Time
The longbow bends, the arrow tightens. Or the twelve strings, pitched the closest they can come without breaking so the instrument produces a sound softer than steel. The slightest murmur can pass, current skimming a channel. I've seen dragonflies above water: seemingly still, their wings feverishly singing.
Present tense
Up, and at the office all the morning, where great hurry to be made in the fitting forth of this present little fleet, but so many rubs by reason of want of money, and people’s not believing us in cases where we had money unless (which in several cases, as in hiring of vessels, cannot be) they be paid beforehand, that every thing goes backward instead of forward. At noon comes Mr. Clerke, my solicitor, and the Auditor’s men with my account drawn up in the Exchequer way with their queries, which are neither many nor great, or hard to answer upon it, and so dined with me, and then I by coach to the King’s playhouse, and there saw “The English Monsieur;” sitting for privacy sake in an upper box: the play hath much mirth in it as to that particular humour. After the play done, I down to Knipp, and did stay her undressing herself; and there saw the several players, men and women go by; and pretty to see how strange they are all, one to another, after the play is done. Here I saw a wonderful pretty maid of her own, that come to undress her, and one so pretty that she says she intends not to keep her, for fear of her being undone in her service, by coming to the playhouse.
Here I hear Sir W. Davenant is just now dead; and so who will succeed him in the mastership of the house is not yet known. The eldest Davenport is, it seems, gone from this house to be kept by somebody; which I am glad of, she being a very bad actor. I took her then up into a coach and away to the Park, which is now very fine after some rain, but the company was going away most, and so I took her to the Lodge, and there treated her and had a deal of good talk, and now and then did baiser la, and that was all, and that as much or more than I had much mind to because of her paint. She tells me mighty news, that my Lady Castlemayne is mightily in love with Hart of their house: and he is much with her in private, and she goes to him, and do give him many presents; and that the thing is most certain, and Becke Marshall only privy to it, and the means of bringing them together, which is a very odd thing; and by this means she is even with the King’s love to Mrs. Davis. This done, I carried her and set her down at Mrs. Manuel’s, but stayed not there myself, nor went in; but straight home, and there to my letters, and so home to bed.
where the present goes
backward instead of forward
I saw her dressing herself
to dress the dead
this kept body treated
all in paint
with art
with odd love
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 7 April 1668