My father liked to say, an apple a day keeps the doctor away.
But we lived in a country where apples were imported, not grown.
Under their waxy skins "Red Delicious" apples tasted like sawdust.
My father grew up on fish and rice in a sleepy town by the sea.
We lived in a country where apples were imported, not grown.
In fall, among bins of Gala and Honeycrisp, I recall his belief in apples—
my father, who was raised on fish and rice in a sleepy town by the sea.
I like Braeburns, Sugarbees, and Fujis— more bright than tart.
In fall, among bins of Gala and Honeycrisp, I recall his belief in apples.
Someone taught me how to find the star in the middle of an apple.
They're more bright than tart, so I like Braeburns, Sugarbees, and Fujis.
Cut them horizontally and you'll see: not all stories of apples are true.
Someone taught me I'd find a star in the belly of an apple.
Under their waxy skins, "Red Delicious" were porous as sawdust.
Cut apples horizontally and see how not all apple stories are true
though my father liked to say an apple a day keeps the doctor away.
High water
Lay long talking pleasantly with my wife in bed, it having rained, and do still, very much all night long. Up and to the office, where we sat till noon. This morning we had news by letters that Sir Richard Stayner is dead at sea in the Mary, which is now come into Portsmouth from Lisbon; which we are sorry for, he being a very stout seaman. But there will be no great miss of him for all that. Dined at home with my wife, and all the afternoon among my workmen, and at night to my office to do business there, and then to see Sir W. Pen, who is still sick, but his pain less than it was. He took occasion to talk with me about Sir J. Minnes’s intention to divide the entry and the yard, and so to keep him out of the yard, and forcing him to go through the garden to his house. Which he is vexed at, and I am glad to see that Sir J. Minnes do use him just as he do me, and so I perceive it is not anything extraordinary his carriage to me in the matter of our houses, for this is worse than anything he has done to me, that he should give order for the stopping up of his way to his house without so much as advising with him or letting of him know it, and I confess that it is very highly and basely done of him. So to my office again, and after doing business there, then home to supper and to bed.
rain all night
and this morning
a dead sea
here in the yard and garden
as high as a bed
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 4 November 1662.
Tropical Imaginary
(a cento)
Now the sack of sugar.
That dark
energy I longed for but could not name.
Each line and curve of recollection's architecture
fronds of palmyra, the stalled clock
inside, something like home
the poker, shovel, and staw broom beside
the rosary on the bumper,
drifting through its days, learning how to be ordinary.
How can I resurrect it now— this love I've had in all my past lives?
Source Texts:
"Self Portrait in Granulated Sugar," David Hernandez;
"I Was Lt. Uhura," January Gill O'Neil; "In Antipolo,
You Can Find a Museum," Ethan Chua translating Abner
Dormiendo; "The Brainfever Bird, Confused by Seasons,"
Tishani Doshi; "Going Home," Myes Poydras; "The Last
Catalogue," Austin Allen; "The Holy Sacrament of
Repression," Katie Condon; "The Dream Incarnate,"
Nay Thit; "Mira Should Have Known Better," Mirabai
translated by Chloe Martinez
Still hunting
Up and with Sir J. Minnes in his coach to White Hall, to the Duke’s; but found him gone out a-hunting. Thence to my Lord Sandwich, from whom I receive every day more and more signs of his confidence and esteem of me. Here I met with Pierce the chyrurgeon, who tells me that my Lady Castlemaine is with child; but though it be the King’s, yet her Lord being still in town, and sometimes seeing of her, though never to eat or lie together, it will be laid to him. He tells me also how the Duke of York is smitten in love with my Lady Chesterfield (a virtuous lady, daughter to my Lord of Ormond); and so much, that the duchess of York hath complained to the King and her father about it, and my Lady Chesterfield is gone into the country for it. At all which I am sorry; but it is the effect of idleness, and having nothing else to employ their great spirits upon. Thence with Mr. Creede and Mr. Moore (who is got upon his legs and come to see my Lord) to Wilkinson’s, and there I did give them and Mr. Howe their dinner of roast beef, cost me 5s., and after dinner carried Mr. Moore as far as Paul’s in a coach, giving him direction about my law business, and there set him down, and I home and among my workmen, who happened of all sorts to meet to their making an end of a great many jobbs, so that after to-morrow I shall have but a little plastering and all the painting almost to do, which was good content to me. At night to my office, and did business; and there came to me Mr. Wade and Evett, who have been again with their prime intelligencer, a woman, I perceive: and though we have missed twice, yet they bring such an account of the probability of the truth of the thing, though we are not certain of the place, that we shall set upon it once more; and I am willing and hopefull in it. So we resolved to set upon it again on Wednesday morning; and the woman herself will be there in a disguise, and confirm us in the place. So they took leave for the night, and I to my business, and then home to my wife and to supper and bed, my pain being going away. So by God’s great blessing my mind is in good condition of quiet.
I go out hunting
from an urge to see
though never to lie
in a field in idleness
is almost to miss
the truth of the place
so I disguise my business
going quiet
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 3 November 1662.
Autobiography of the Soul
(a cento)
Imagine where you cannot be.
Some
days, I lay in the morgue
of darkness, hyper-alone,
Put out my eyes: and I shall see you, too,
Loving it all
to its silky death. to its silty bottom. to its graywater demise.
So the constellation through negation, since we’re stuck with night.
I give
the world my worn-out breath
on an old tune, I give
it all I have
and take it back again.
Source texts:
"One Way to Ressurect an Ancestor," CM Burroughs;
"I begin the day thinking," Taylor Byas; "Put Out
My Eyes," Rainer Maria Rilke; "There are inanimate
things out there loving each other," francine j.
harris; "Note on Method," Jeffrey Pethybridge;
"Breath," Philip Levine
Time out
(Lord’s day). Lay long with pleasure talking with my wife, in whom I never had greater content, blessed be God! than now, she continuing with the same care and thrift and innocence, so long as I keep her from occasions of being otherwise, as ever she was in her life, and keeps the house as well.
To church, where Mr. Mills, after he had read the service, and shifted himself as he did the last day, preached a very ordinary sermon. So home to dinner with my wife. Then up into my new rooms which are almost finished, and there walked with great content talking with my wife till church time, and then to church, and there being a lazy preacher I slept out the sermon, and so home, and after visiting the two Sir Williams, who are both of them mending apace, I to my office preparing things against to-morrow for the Duke, and so home and to bed, with some pain in making water, having taken cold this morning in sitting too long bare-legged to pare my corns.
My wife and I spent a good deal of this evening in reading “Du Bartas’ Imposture” and other parts which my wife of late has taken up to read, and is very fine as anything I meet with.
I never had less than now
so being otherwise as ever
I keep house and reach
ordinary rooms
with time to mend tomorrow
in bare-legged corn
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 2 November 1662.
Misunderstood Creatures
(a cento)
the black snakes that made a provisional home under the bow
of my dead & was made of that dreaming.
Here I eat you. Here, a food
the sea was vaporous and the boats were ants stranded in the air
I taste the fruit whose coarse skin
is eaten by beasts who've never tasted honey.
A shining breakfast, a breakfast shining, no dispute, no practice, nothing, nothing at all.
Muscle in the water like dregs of an abattoir.
Your pain the astrologer said A gift
for others
Like dogs for others they trained us with trays:
Meats and herbs seethed in oil and acid.
nothing is truly mine
except my name.
Worried my love's not worth much, but I always
come when called.
Bulbous buttercup, & oleander throw shade, & We live
Source Texts:
"Nothing Promised," Avia Tadmor; "SoMa." Hieu Minh
Nguyen; "Immigrant Song at a Food Truck," Weijia Pan;
"Capybara Hot Springs," Yaxkin Melchy Ramos; "Tender
Buttons [Breakfast]," Gertrude Stein; "Somber Bull,"
Andrea Cote; "Empires," Anthony Joseph; "Task,"
Ari Banias; "Catering," Brian Tierney; "Cattiveria,"
Sandra Lim; "Passing Through,"Stanley Kunitz;"Self-
Portrait as Hereboy, Sethe's Dog in Beloved," Saeed
Jones; "Lauren Oya Olamina Explains Earthseed
to Ernest Hemingway," L. Lamar Wilson
Airy
Up and after a little while with my w-orkmen I went to my office, and then to our sitting all the morning. At noon with Mr. Creede, whom I found at my house, to the Trinity House, to a great dinner there, by invitacion, and much company. It seems one Captain Evans makes his Elder Brother’s dinner to-day. Among other discourses one Mr. Oudant, secretary to the late Princesse of Orange, did discourse of the convenience as to keeping the highways from being deep, by their horses, in Holland (and Flanders where the ground is as miry as ours is), going in their carts and, waggons as ours in coaches, wishing the same here as an expedient to make the ways better, and I think there is something in it, where there is breadth enough.
Thence to my office, sent for to meet Mr. Leigh again; from Sir H. Bennet. And he and I, with Wade and his intelligencer and labourers, to the Tower cellars, to make one tryall more; where we staid two or three hours digging, and dug a great deal all under the arches, as it was now most confidently directed, and so seriously, and upon pretended good grounds, that I myself did truly expect to speed; but we missed of all: and so we went away the second time like fools. And to our office, whither, a coach being come, Mr. Leigh goes home to Whitehall; and I by appointment to the Dolphin Tavern, to meet Wade and the other, Captn. Evett, who now do tell me plainly, that he that do put him upon this is one that had it from Barkestead’s own mouth, and was advised with by him, just before the King’s coming in, how to get it out, and had all the signs told him how and where it lay, and had always been the great confident of Barkestead even to the trusting him with his life and all he had. So that he did much convince me that there is good ground for what we go about. But I fear it may be that he did find some conveyance of it away, without the help of this man, before he died. But he is resolved to go to the party once more, and then to determine what we shall do further. So we parted, and I to my office, where after sending away my letters to the post I do hear that Sir J. Minnes is resolved to turn part of our entry into a room and to divide the back yard between Sir W. Pen and him, which though I do not see how it will annoy me much particularly, yet it do trouble me a little for fear it should, but I do not see how it can well unless in his desiring my coming to my back stairs, but for that I shall do as well as himself or Sir W. Pen, who is most concerned to look after it.
on my high horse
the ground is as miry as a wish
an expedient to make way
for all that I miss
like an appointment
with the king of rust
or a fear party
or the fur part of my ear
I do not see how
I do not see my air
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 1 November 1662.
Maps
The years unspool like birds wheeling through the sky.
It's hard to tell what the point is, when all
points are part of that movement.
Sugar in every mouthful, no matter how hard
you try to avoid it.
What can you tell me about the future
that my past self writing to you now
could not anticipate?
We walked through the fairgrounds, licking
ice cream wrapped in folded cones.
When we took long road trips, the children got
excited about pushing pennies into a machine
that flattened them into arrowheads.
Is there a star that can still be named
after your beloved?
A telescope sits on the nightstand, pointed
at a corner of the ceiling.
A hundred fragments shake loose: which trail
is the one that leads to the moon and not
to a torn loaf of bread?
Falling
Your foot snags on the corner of a bumper.
The tiled floor of the grocery is many
shades of dirty gray.
Your instinct is to shield your face,
your head.
Minutes before, the woman at the cash register
says have a nice day and looks like she means it.
Just an hour before, you are mistaken
for someone else.
Wind whips the edges of the tarp loose.
The sound it makes, like flapping wings.
Cold air snags in your throat
on the way in.
Noon light is visible when you turn
your gaze to the left.
Your knees compose the retort you
should have made.

