Poems & poem-like things – Page 3

April 9, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Subjective

…and lay and slept well till 3 in the morning, and then waking, and by the light of the moon I saw my pillow (which overnight I flung from me) stand upright, but not bethinking myself what it might be, I was a little afeard, but sleep overcame all and so lay till high morning, at which time I had a candle brought me and a good fire made, and in general it was a great pleasure all the time I staid here to see how I am respected and honoured by all people; and I find that I begin to know now how to receive so much reverence, which at the beginning I could not tell how to do.
Sir William and I by coach to the dock and there viewed all the storehouses and the old goods that are this day to be sold, which was great pleasure to me, and so back again by coach home, where we had a good dinner, and among other strangers that come, there was Mr. Hempson and his wife, a pretty woman, and speaks Latin; Mr. Allen and two daughters of his, both very tall and the youngest very handsome, so much as I could not forbear to love her exceedingly, having, among other things, the best hand that ever I saw.
After dinner, we went to fit books and things (Tom Hater being this morning come to us) for the sale, by an inch of candle, and very good sport we and the ladies that stood by had, to see the people bid. Among other things sold there was all the State’s arms, which Sir W. Batten bought; intending to set up some of the images in his garden, and the rest to burn on the Coronacion night. The sale being done, the ladies and I and Captain Pett and Mr. Castle took barge and down we went to see the Sovereign, which we did, taking great pleasure therein, singing all the way, and, among other pleasures, I put my Lady, Mrs. Turner, Mrs. Hempson, and the two Mrs. Allens into the lanthorn and I went in and kissed them, demanding it as a fee due to a principall officer, with all which we were exceeding merry, and drunk some bottles of wine and neat’s tongue, &c. Then back again home and so supped, and after much mirth to bed.

in the light of the moon
my little candle and I
are strangers

you love being
in the state’s arms
to burn the night down

sovereign as
the singing horn
of a bottle

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 9 April 1661.

April 9, 2024April 8, 2024 by Luisa A. Igloria

Letting the Moment Pass

river in November light between bare woods and mountain

Salt over a shoulder, smudged chalk circle; 
           not a single idle breach in an hour,
lest the devil be encouraged to come 
          out and do his work. But there are 
days when hate spills out of every mouth,
          every email; doors stick, the roast
burns, a scammer makes off with your
          down payment. A dead bird lands 
on your doorstep, the ceramic spoon rest 
          bursts into broken pieces. Time 
to restart the day, close your eyes to what 
         wants to pull you down until the air feels
cold and honest, until only what you love
        runs its hands through your hair again.

April 8, 2024 by Dave Bonta

After dark

Up early, my Lady Batten knocking at her door that comes into one of my chambers. I did give directions to my people and workmen, and so about 8 o’clock we took barge at the Tower, Sir William Batten and his lady, Mrs. Turner, Mr. Fowler and I. A very pleasant passage and so to Gravesend, where we dined, and from thence a coach took them and me, and Mr. Fowler with some others came from Rochester to meet us, on horseback. At Rochester, where alight at Mr. Alcock’s and there drank and had good sport, with his bringing out so many sorts of cheese. Then to the Hillhouse at Chatham, where I never was before, and I found a pretty pleasant house and am pleased with the arms that hang up there. Here we supped very merry, and late to bed; Sir William telling me that old Edgeborrow, his predecessor, did die and walk in my chamber, did make me some what afeard, but not so much as for mirth’s sake I did seem. So to bed in the treasurer’s chamber…

a knocking in my clock
I turn into an owl

the light is a predecessor
to amber

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 8 April 1661.

April 8, 2024April 5, 2024 by Luisa A. Igloria

Haibun: Respectability Politics

My friend says she comes from a line of people who are always trying
to make sure their backs are covered. By which she doesn't mean
covered with a raincoat or cardigan or a dinner jacket. I understand
what she's saying, for I come from a line of people who are always
looking over their shoulder to make sure no one is about to drive
a blade in the semilunar space made by the lower curve of the left lung,
the front edge of the spleen, and the arch formed by sinews of the false
ribs. We are always preparing for the expected unexpected, always
reminding ourselves not to give everything away, not to think we
are ever home free or no longer under brilliant surveillance. Of course
we want to be loved, to be given the same options to choose from
just like others. To be able to speak of excitements and amazements
without being mistaken for hysterics or heathens. Once, at a show,
we caught a glimpse of magicians stuffing their elbow-patched sleeves
with squares of knotted silk. Nevertheless, we roared with applause
from our seats in the audience as they pulled out color after color,
ending with the flourish of a living bird.

Who are we to point
out the false logic, the trick, against
the cruelty of sawing a body in half?

April 7, 2024 by Dave Bonta

New Jerusalem

(Lord’s day). All the morning at home making up my accounts (God forgive me!) to give up to my Lord this afternoon. Then about 11 o’clock out of doors towards Westminster and put in at Paul’s, where I saw our minister, Mr. Mills, preaching before my Lord Mayor. So to White Hall, and there I met with Dr. Fuller of Twickenham, newly come from Ireland; and took him to my Lord’s, where he and I dined; and he did give my Lord and me a good account of the condition of Ireland, and how it come to pass, through the joyning of the Fanatiques and the Presbyterians, that the latter and the former are in their declaration put together under the names of Fanatiques.
After dinner, my Lord and I and Mr. Shepley did look over our accounts and settle matters of money between us; and my Lord did tell me much of his mind about getting money and other things of his family, &c. Then to my father’s, where I found Mr. Hunt and his wife at supper with my father and mother and my wife, where after supper I left them and so home, and then I went to Sir W. Batten’s and resolved of a journey tomorrow to Chatham, and so home and to bed.

god of doors
we reach for a fuller land

and come to pass
through joy

into a fanatic account
of one another

o my father’s father
o my journey home

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 7 April 1661.

April 7, 2024April 5, 2024 by Luisa A. Igloria

Diorama of Night Sky with Stars

Not all frauds are equal. Some frauds
are exceedingly good at being frauds 
and keeping the appearance of a perfectly
dependable, reasonable human being. 
They are polite to a fault, having cultivated
a demeanor that's a cross between maitre d'
and mansplainer—someone only looking
out for your best interests. On the other hand, 
the frauds who are terrible at being frauds 
wear their pompousness and idiocy 
loud like fancy pantaloons and orange hair. 
A tin facsimile of night sky is more convincing—
holes punched with nails cannot help
but leak light from the nearest source.

April 6, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Tryst

Up among my workmen, then to Whitehall, and there at Privy Seal and elsewhere did business, and among other things met with Mr. Townsend, who told of his mistake the other day, to put both his legs through one of his knees of his breeches, and went so all day.
Then with Mr. Creed and Moore to the Leg in the Palace to dinner which I gave them, and after dinner I saw the girl of the house, being very pretty, go into a chamber, and I went in after her and kissed her. Then by water, Creed and I, to Salisbury Court and there saw “Love’s Quarrell” acted the first time, but I do not like the design or words.
So calling at my father’s, where they and my wife well, and so home and to bed.

on sea legs we go
after a kiss

to bury our love
like words in a well

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 6 April 1661.

April 6, 2024April 5, 2024 by Luisa A. Igloria

Two Arrows and a Tattoo

When the medical technician bends to tighten 
the tourniquet around your upper arm before jabbing
you with the needle and swiveling the collection vials
in place, you see the small, faded tattoo on the left 
side of her neck. You ask if it hurt when she got it, 
since everyone always has an opinion on whether 
it hurts more in the bony parts than in the fleshy parts. 

She doesn't remember. She was 17, did lots of crazy shit. 
But she'd do it again, has done it again—she shows you 
the newest ink on her right wrist, a scroll of letters 
and vines. The Buddha said that pain is inevitable, 
but suffering optional. In the Buddha's parable,
you're walking in a forest; an arrow comes 
whistling through the trees and hits you. 

But the story doesn't say where—shoulder? 
chest? hip? leg?—or why, or whether you shriek
as you fall to the ground like a rag doll impaled. 
You are definitely in pain. But wait, it doesn't
end there. Your unseen assailant aims a second
time in your direction. Because the first arrow
has jolted your senses to high alert, lucky you

can dodge the second. The Buddha explained
that life (not a ninja, though it does creep up on you) 
deals out the first arrow. The second arrow is your 
reaction to the first. He says it's optional: it's the way 
you choose to react, thus opening yourself to more 
pain and suffering. You're not convinced 
the analogy works well. Were you asking for 

that second arrow, or even the first? If you knew 
you were a walking bull's-eye for arrows or some 
other instrument of pain, wouldn't you run and hide 
behind a boulder or burrow into a log? The med tech 
touches the side of her neck, thinking that it must have 
hurt a little. But she chose to have it done—the low hum
of those needles bringing to life the design she chose.

April 5, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Bar fly

Up among my workmen and so to the office, and then to Sir W. Pen’s with the other Sir William and Sir John Lawson to dinner, and after that, with them to Mr. Lucy’s, a merchant, where much good company, and there drank a great deal of wine, and in discourse fell to talk of the weight of people, which did occasion some wagers, and where, among others, I won half a piece to be spent.
Then home, and at night to Sir W. Batten’s, and there very merry with a good barrell of oysters, and this is the present life I lead.
Home and to bed.

among the laws of wine
is the weight of a wager

and the half-spent night
at a bar of lead

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 5 April 1661.

April 5, 2024April 3, 2024 by Luisa A. Igloria

Totality

It's early April. Only a few more days
till the day when the Moon, passing 
between the Sun and Earth, 
completely blocks the face of the Sun.  

The heavens will darken 
as if it were dawn or dusk. 
The heavens will darken ominously 
as if it were the beginning or end of time.

According to geoscientists, 
tidal stress increases during a new 
moon, a condition associated with 
a total solar eclipse.  

With all these constellations
of planetary and other movement,
tsunamis could be spreading 
right now through tectonic plates.

We're warned not to turn
our eyes directly toward the Sun.
It could burn earthquakes 
right into our brains.

Instead, we look into its reflection 
on viewing mirrors. The very trees learn
how to break it apart into hundreds 
of bright thumbnails on the ground.