November 2021 – Page 5

November 12, 2021November 12, 2021 by Dave Bonta

Princess, abdicating

Up betimes; and Mr. Povy comes to even accounts with me, which we did, and then fell to other talk. He tells, in short, how the King is made a child of, by Buckingham and Arlington, to the lessening of the Duke of York, whom they cannot suffer to be great, for fear of my Lord Chancellor’s return, which, therefore, they make the King violent against. That he believes it is impossible these two great men can hold together long: or, at least, that the ambition of the former is so great, that he will endeavour to master all, and bring into play as many as he can. That Anglesey will not lose his place easily, but will contend in law with whoever comes to execute it. That the Duke of York, in all things but in his cod-piece, is led by the nose by his wife. That W. Coventry is now, by the Duke of York, made friends with the Duchess; and that he is often there, and waits on her. That he do believe that these present great men will break in time, and that W. Coventry will be a great man again; for he do labour to have nothing to do in matters of the State, and is so usefull to the side that he is on, that he will stand, though at present he is quite out of play. That my Lady Castlemayne hates the Duke of Buckingham. That the Duke of York hath expressed himself very kind to my Lord Sandwich, which I am mighty glad of. That we are to expect more changes if these men stand. This done, he and I to talk of my coach, and I got him to go see it, where he finds most infinite fault with it, both as to being out of fashion and heavy, with so good reason that I am mightily glad of his having corrected me in it; and so I do resolve to have one of his build, and with his advice, both in coach and horses, he being the fittest man in the world for it, and so he carried me home, and said the same to my wife. So I to the office and he away, and at noon I home to dinner, and all the afternoon late with Gibson at my chamber about my present great business, only a little in the afternoon at the office about Sir D. Gawden’s accounts, and so to bed and slept heartily, my wife and I at good peace, but my heart troubled and her mind not at ease, I perceive, she against and I for the girle, to whom I have not said anything these three days, but resolve to be mighty strange in appearance to her.
This night W. Batelier come and took his leave of us, he setting out for France to-morrow.

how the king is made
a child cannot believe

it is impossible
that ambition

to master all things
but have nothing to do

in matters of the state
of play

the sand we stand on
finds infinite fault with it

and I resolve to be the world
for my good girl

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 30 October 1668.

November 11, 2021November 12, 2021 by Luisa A. Igloria

Ailanthus

                 Lakelight, riverlight, dusking
as the days' translations retreat—
                              Tightness begins to unravel
yet your seeds cling to samaras,
                 clothing the tree-of-winter. 
                               Not the varnished lanterns
but your leaves, lance-shaped & heart-
                scarred, giving off the odious scent.
Breakable, the final body that dries
                               from being told 
it must be its own or only
                ornament. Let it remain, then.
Let it cut cracks through sidewalks
                               & stone walls,
turn out from under bridges. Push  
                 as long as you can to.ward the sky.

November 11, 2021 by Dave Bonta

Journalist

At the office all the morning, where Mr. Wren first tells us of the order from the King, came last night to the Duke of York, for signifying his pleasure to the Sollicitor-General for drawing up a Commission for suspending of my Lord Anglesey, and putting in Sir Thomas Littleton and Sir Thomas Osborne, the former a creature of Arlington’s, and the latter of the Duke of Buckingham’s, during the suspension. The Duke of York was forced to obey, and did grant it, he being to go to Newmarket this day with the King, and so the King pressed for it. But Mr. Wren do own that the Duke of York is the most wounded in this, in the world, for it is done and concluded without his privity, after his appearing for Lord Anglesey, and that it is plain that they do ayme to bring the Admiralty into Commission too, and lessen the Duke of York. This do put strange apprehensions into all our Board; only I think I am the least troubled at it, for I care not at all for it: but my Lord Brouncker and Pen do seem to think much of it. So home to dinner, full of this news, and after dinner to the office, and so home all the afternoon to do business towards my drawing up an account for the Duke of York of the answers of this office to his late great letter, and late at it, and so to bed, with great peace from my wife and quiet, I bless God.

born a creature
into this wounded world

with strange apprehensions
I am but a pen

so full of news
my raw account
of the quiet

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 29 October 1668.

November 10, 2021 by Dave Bonta

Heartbeat

…rose with perfect good peace, being heartily afflicted for this folly of mine that did occasion it, but was forced to be silent about the girle, which I have no mind to part with, but much less that the poor girle should be undone by my folly. So up with mighty kindness from my wife and a thorough peace, and being up did by a note advise the girle what I had done and owned, which note I was in pain for till she told me she had burned it. This evening Mr. Spong come, and sat late with me, and first told me of the instrument called parallelogram, which I must have one of, shewing me his practice thereon, by a map of England.
So by coach with Mr. Gibson to Chancery Lane, and there made oath before a Master of Chancery to the Tangier account of fees, and so to White Hall, where, by and by, a Committee met, my Lord Sandwich there, but his report was not received, it being late; but only a little business done, about the supplying the place with victuals. But I did get, to my great content, my account allowed of fees, with great applause by my Lord Ashly and Sir W. Pen. Thence home, calling at one or two places; and there about our workmen, who are at work upon my wife’s closet, and other parts of my house, that we are all in dirt. So after dinner with Mr. Gibson all the afternoon in my closet, and at night to supper and to bed, my wife and I at good peace, but yet with some little grudgings of trouble in her and more in me about the poor girle.

a heart is a one-
note instrument

which I have by chance
supplying my applause

calling work work
and other little grudgings

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 28 October 1668.

November 10, 2021November 14, 2021 by Luisa A. Igloria

Poem as Imagined Conversation with Anne Sexton

You said you were tired of being 
brave; and that you walked 

away from your mother's
funeral procession in a haze—

Did you mean equal parts 
belief and disbelief? Maybe

I am wrong to read 
every poem insinuates

itself upon my own experience.
But in this case I don't need to revise: 

in another country, people die; 
among them, my own kin. 

Some kinds of grief are larger
than cathedrals; even before you enter,

you know your heart 
has been belling its approach and yet 

the sound stops short of filling 
every arch, every vault. I don't know 

if I could ever offer the kind 
of blessing that was timely enough, 

not wanting for more—
neither to give nor to receive.

November 9, 2021November 9, 2021 by Luisa A. Igloria

Poem with a Line from Neruda

Time, you beckon. Before
you were a proliferation of billboards;
double-armed streetlights rising
              from a continuous median, 
evenly spaced parade of réverbères
going down a crowded avenue.  
Checkerboards of light fell
             out of buildings where, in each
square someone was working
or doing sums at a table, someone
was reading a book or ironing
             a shirt, washing potatoes 
in a colander, or singing
a child to bed. Today, I watched 
a neighbor load bag after bag
              into a van, and still
there was more—a lifetime's 
accumulation of things. Time,
you crept up on her as well,
              and you were also the sly 
foghorn with a low-frequency 
voice, warning small craft away 
from the rocky coastline. 
              There are things we don't see
until it's almost too late. One by one,
one day, we'll finally step inside 
the door you hold open. 
               But after that, I am asking 
again: who will split and stack
kindling, bring water to my loves,  
dress and cool their fevered skin?

November 9, 2021 by Dave Bonta

Ungrounded

…in the morning up, but my mind troubled for the poor girle, with whom I could not get opportunity to speak, but to the office, my mind mighty full of sorrow for her, where all the morning, and to dinner with my people, and to the office all the afternoon, and so at night home, and there busy to get some things ready against to-morrow’s meeting of Tangier, and that being done, and my clerks gone, my wife did towards bedtime begin to be in a mighty rage from some new matter that she had got in her head, and did most part of the night in bed rant at me in most high terms of threats of publishing my shame, and when I offered to rise would have rose too, and caused a candle to be lit to burn by her all night in the chimney while she ranted, while the knowing myself to have given some grounds for it, did make it my business to appease her all I could possibly, and by good words and fair promises did make her very quiet, and so rested all night, and…

I could not speak
my sorrow so I begin
to rage

a candle
lit to burn
in the chimney

knowing myself
to have given ground
to air

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 27 October 1668.

November 8, 2021November 8, 2021 by Luisa A. Igloria

Orbital

Some nights, trying to fall asleep but not succeeding. Then he might ask
what she wants to talk about—nothing too grim or terrible, nothing
too ordinary. News of the longest lunar eclipse in two weeks, the shadow
the earth makes as it passes between the sun and moon. How it happens
only when the moon is full. How its cache of sunlight filtered through earth's
atmosphere gives it an orange hue, which may be visible from some
peak in the Himalayas as well as a beach in Pagudpud, near dawn
before the fishermen push out to sea with their nets. Should a shadow
pass underneath their boats, they know to quiet their hands. A bird
might flick through the sky, appear to bisect it; yet nothing falls apart.
What is the angle formed between the axis of direction from
an orbiting body, and the goal toward which it orients?

Finally, the river's mouth yields to
the dream, the body's inclination
being toward a place of rest.

November 8, 2021November 8, 2021 by Dave Bonta

Long-winded

…rose, and up and by water to White Hall, but with my mind mightily troubled for the poor girle, whom I fear I have undone by this, my [wife] telling me that she would turn her out of doors. However, I was obliged to attend the Duke of York, thinking to have had a meeting of Tangier to-day, but had not; but he did take me and Mr. Wren into his closet, and there did press me to prepare what I had to say upon the answers of my fellow-officers to his great letter, which I promised to do against his coming to town again, the next week; and so to other discourse, finding plainly that he is in trouble, and apprehensions of the Reformers, and would be found to do what he can towards reforming, himself. And so thence to my Lord Sandwich’s, where, after long stay, he being in talk with others privately, I to him; and there he, taking physic and keeping his chamber, I had an hour’s talk with him about the ill posture of things at this time, while the King gives countenance to Sir Charles Sidly and Lord Buckhurst, telling him their late story of running up and down the streets a little while since all night, and their being beaten and clapped up all night by the constable, who is since chid and imprisoned for his pains.
He tells me that he thinks his matters do stand well with the King, and hopes to have dispatch to his mind; but I doubt it, and do see that he do fear it, too. He told me my Lady Carteret’s trouble about my writing of that letter of the Duke of York’s lately to the Office, which I did not own, but declared to be of no injury to G. Carteret, and that I would write a letter to him to satisfy him therein. But this I am in pain how to do, without doing myself wrong, and the end I had, of preparing a justification to myself hereafter, when the faults of the Navy come to be found out however, I will do it in the best manner I can.
Thence by coach home and to dinner, finding my wife mightily discontented, and the girle sad, and no words from my wife to her. So after dinner they out with me about two or three things, and so home again, I all the evening busy, and my wife full of trouble in her looks, and anon to bed, where about midnight she wakes me, and there falls foul of me again, affirming that she saw me hug and kiss the girle; the latter I denied, and truly, the other I confessed and no more, and upon her pressing me did offer to give her under my hand that I would never see Mrs. Pierce more nor Knepp, but did promise her particular demonstrations of my true love to her, owning some indiscretions in what I did, but that there was no harm in it. She at last upon these promises was quiet, and very kind we were, and so to sleep, and…

rose I bled for
to have and to press

I promised a story
in one red letter

but this I am
in pain how to do

without a kiss to pierce me
is there no quiet

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 26 October 1668.

November 7, 2021November 8, 2021 by Luisa A. Igloria

Beginning

In the mouth of every 
great unknowing, 
nothing can help you 
find the first, sure steps 
into the landscape.

If there is a force
that guards the fields—
if there is a throat 
that emits an electric 
humming—

you won't hear 
but feel it. The sun 
is either directly 
above or trapped 
at the bottom 

of an abyss, until
the water shines
a certain way 
and it floats toward 
a green cordon

of trees. 
Don't look
for signs left
by pilgrims;
for warnings 

about turns
that might keep 
doubling back on 
themselves. Think
instead of how

you dreamed
of a country, weather-
carved and soil-softened,
with paths that held up
whoever set foot there.