January 2023 – Page 8

January 3, 2023January 3, 2023 by Dave Bonta

Pepys recycled

Over the next couple of years as I finish up the Pepys Diary erasure project (I hope), there will be some skipped entries — presumably more as time goes on — when I decide that a previous erasure was in fact adequate. I wasn’t expecting that situation to arise already on the third entry, but I’d forgotten that I made an abortive attempt to re-start erasing the diary from the beginning last January, while I was still working on the final year. Plus I had a second go back in 2015 or so. But I decided last year’s attempt is a keeper, so for those who are following along, it’s here: Card players. (NB: The post titles on Via Negativa are not poem titles; the poems are untitled in the final versions that go in the PDF edition.)

January 3, 2023January 3, 2023 by Luisa A. Igloria

We Will Always Be Our Longings

And why should we be ashamed?
Yes, I confess I do still find things to love 
even in the throes of purging what I believe 
I'll have no further need for. Before the new year,
I sifted through bags of old Christmas and birthday 
cards, glossy pages torn from calendars. There were
photographs and postcards from someone who 
no longer counts me as friend; extravagant, 
unused gifts from her many trips around the world, 
which will find another life with someone who 
desires them more than I could ever bring myself to. 
Am I really so ungrateful? Who was the self that kept 
used stamps for their miniature portraits; every extra 
button from purchased clothing, every pair of boots 
lacking one buckle or scraped down in one heel 
but soft around the ankle? Each time we moved, 
we went through the same motions—deciding 
what to keep and what to put on the curb for large 
item removal. When one of my daughters put a hand-
lettered sign that said "Free" on a particle board shelf, 
someone took it away in less than two hours. 
One of the first things we do when we come into
the world is open our mouths, crying toward
the light that arcs too high and marbled 
overhead. The mouth needs no instruction. 
It roots instinctively to meet its new hungers; 
it's only the beginning. Who knew that so much 
near the ground could also be sustaining.

January 2, 2023 by Dave Bonta

January Thaw Walk

Bell Gap again

raindrops land with a random
industrial rhythm

on the metal roof of a trail shelter
wrapped in fog

a flash of white from a woodpecker’s wings
as i set out again

feeling parenthetical
under a black umbrella

at the two mile marker
a greenbriar vine’s final leaf

fog retreating up the mountain
doesn’t use the trail

the wet cliffs seem to glow
i page through shelves of blue shale

looking for fossils i find
hibernating lady beetles

and snow hiding below the rocks
protected by rhododendron leaves

that must’ve been stripped off
by high winds

in the place of white birches
i remember my former life

in a distant city
my own tongue gone strange

i walk through a river of cold air
flowing down the gorge

at the by-gone railroad’s
horseshoe bend up the mountain

entering the cloud
i pull on my poncho

to the accelerating pulse
of a ruffed grouse drumming

i’m agog at the beadwork
of rain on every twig

ridge lines begin to emerge
above the clouds

an erasure as selective as
a song dynasty landscape

hiding a highway
and half the sounds of traffic

four chickadees forage
in the trailside sumacs

a white birch appears
through a hole in the clouds

on the side of the next mountain
but i’m turning back

on the slope below me
stark naked branches

where a porcupine has been
exercising his teeth

feeling peckish myself
i pick up a bunch of wild grapes

that old taste of wine
left out too long

January 2, 2023January 3, 2023 by Dave Bonta

Migrant

In the morning before I went forth old East brought me a dozen of bottles of sack, and I gave him a shilling for his pains.
Then I went to Mr. Sheply who was drawing of sack in the wine cellar to send to other places as a gift from my Lord, and told me that my Lord had given him order to give me the dozen of bottles.
Thence I went to the Temple to speak with Mr. Calthropp about the 60l. due to my Lord, but missed of him, he being abroad. Then I went to Mr. Crew’s and borrowed 10l. of Mr. Andrewes for my own use, and so went to my office, where there was nothing to do. Then I walked a great while in Westminster Hall, where I heard that Lambert was coming up to London; that my Lord Fairfax was in the head of the Irish brigade, but it was not certain what he would declare for. The House was to-day upon finishing the act for the Council of State, which they did; and for the indemnity to the soldiers; and were to sit again thereupon in the afternoon. Great talk that many places have declared for a free Parliament; and it is believed that they will be forced to fill up the House with the old members. From the Hall I called at home, and so went to Mr. Crew’s (my wife she was to go to her father’s), thinking to have dined, but I came too late, so Mr. Moore and I and another gentleman went out and drank a cup of ale together in the new market, and there I eat some bread and cheese for my dinner. After that Mr. Moore and I went as far as Fleet-street together and parted, he going into the City, I to find Mr. Calthrop, but failed again of finding him, so returned to Mr. Crew’s again, and from thence went along with Mrs. Jemimah home, and there she taught me how to play at cribbage. Then I went home, and finding my wife gone to see Mrs. Hunt, I went to Will’s, and there sat with Mr. Ashwell talking and singing till nine o’clock, and so home, there, having not eaten anything but bread and cheese, my wife cut me a slice of brawn which I received from my Lady; which proves as good as ever I had any. So to bed, and my wife had a very bad night of it through wind and cold.

morning brought me a hill
a wing to other places

I speak with the nothing
in my head

not certain what I believe
that will fill me up

the city having eaten
me raw

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 2 January 1660.

January 2, 2023January 1, 2023 by Luisa A. Igloria

On Sound and Silence

A noise startled us out of an everyday reverie. But there was no wind
blowing; not a shingle banged loose from the roof. Clocks don't sound
like that when stopped. Didn't we let the water trickle out of the taps
so the pipes wouldn't freeze and burst? Every window was latched,
every room quietly warm, unpeopled. Finally, after walking around
upstairs, we found the source— Guitar strings too taut in the dry heat
of the house, snapped and coiled around themselves. In one clean
move, the whole bridge sheared and pulled off. How to make music
out of accident? Improvise, or initiate a new rhythm? Juncos forage
in the soil beneath the window, chattering; more of them would make
a blizzard. Keeping to ourselves is what we do, in contrast— Look at
the neighbors and their festivities: card games on the table, disco
lights spinning in the kitchen. Maybe it's not all the time. Nevertheless,
whoever's observing would mark the difference. Outgoing, but always
ready to hurry back to the cozier inside. Performance of any sort
takes so much energy. Quirks and customs, quaint ideas. Remember
how to read music? Some parts are about counting and pacing; others
about feeling your way. Then there are crescendos and decrescendos.
Unbound, all of a sudden a sound twangs hard then gradually softens.
Voice works in similar ways—the purity before the breaking. Who
hasn't wished as hard for silence as for company? Exceptions,
of course— You, coming back from the brink of death; or you,
waiting so long for love and absolution. Zodiac sign: load-bearing
ox, changeable fish, sand-dwelling crab, hard-headed ram.

January 1, 2023January 1, 2023 by Dave Bonta

Time machine

Blessed be God, at the end of the last year I was in very good health, without any sense of my old pain, but upon taking of cold.
I lived in Axe Yard having my wife, and servant Jane, and no more in family than us three.
My wife, after the absence of her terms for seven weeks, gave me hopes of her being with child, but on the last day of the year she hath them again. The condition of the State was thus; viz. the Rump, after being disturbed by my Lord Lambert, was lately returned to sit again. The officers of the Army all forced to yield. Lawson lies still in the river, and Monk is with his army in Scotland. Only my Lord Lambert is not yet come into the Parliament, nor is it expected that he will without being forced to it.
The new Common Council of the City do speak very high; and had sent to Monk their sword-bearer, to acquaint him with their desires for a free and full Parliament, which is at present the desires, and the hopes, and expectation of all. Twenty-two of the old secluded members having been at the House-door the last week to demand entrance, but it was denied them; and it is believed that they nor the people will be satisfied till the House be filled.
My own private condition very handsome, and esteemed rich, but indeed very poor; besides my goods of my house, and my office, which at present is somewhat uncertain. Mr. Downing master of my office.
(Lord’s Day) This morning (we living lately in the garret) I rose, put on my suit with great skirts, having not lately worn any other, clothes but them.
Went to Mr. Gunning’s chapel at Exeter House, where he made a very good sermon upon these words: — “That in the fulness of time God sent his Son, made of a woman,” &c.; showing, that, by “made under the law,” is meant his circumcision, which is solemnized this day.
Dined at home in the garret, where my wife dressed the remains of a turkey, and in the doing of it she burned her hand.
I staid at home all the afternoon, looking over my accounts.
Then went with my wife to my father’s, and in going observed the great posts which the City have set up at the Conduit in Fleet-street.
Supt at my, father’s, where in came Mrs. The. Turner and Madam Morrice, and supt with us. After that my wife and I went home with them, and so to our own home.

at the end of the year
without any sense of pain

the river is high as a trance
poor as worn words

in the fullness of time
how do I burn

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 1 January 1659/60.

January 1, 2023January 1, 2023 by Luisa A. Igloria

The World, Again

Just a few hours ago, I wondered if I should read

sudden rain again as portent of what's to come; if

the week's swing from freezing to warm and back,

and news of floods and mudslides in island towns

are additional reminders of the end everyone says

is looming more ominously than before. At the gas

station two days ago, I couldn't wash my windshield clear 

because the squeegee was frozen in the water bucket.

Night still falls early, and dark is still dark. But the baby 

is happy with the crinkled paper wrapper around 

a plastic block, and the toddler gathers dry

leaves and dandelion leaves in both hands, carefully

constructing a salad. How is it possible I walked

into the house of someone I met for the first time,

and came away with the gift of a living plant in my arms?