Way station

In some games it’s all downhill:
momentum gained from the speed of
careening closer to the ravine.

Wind is an accessory, whipping
your scarf into an aerodynamic
arrow; or, the lift you ride

to sail across the chasm. Rocks
litter the craggy landscape. Silver birch
and fir, the only things that gesture

upward. You can’t remember how many nights
or days or cycles you’ve picked yourself up
from countless falls. The moon’s a pendant,

festooned on the lower registers.
Its glow is soft, like kindness; like a face
you once saw in a window, looking as you passed.

Tarantism

Up and to my office, and anon home and to see my wife dancing with Pembleton about noon, and I to the Trinity House to dinner and after dinner home, and there met Pembleton, who I perceive has dined with my wife, which she takes no notice of, but whether that proceeds out of design, or fear to displease me I know not, but it put me into a great disorder again, that I could mind nothing but vexing, but however I continued my resolution of going down by water to Woolwich, took my wife and Ashwell; and going out met Mr. Howe come to see me, whose horse we caused to be set up, and took him with us. The tide against us, so I went ashore at Greenwich before, and did my business at the yard about putting things in order as to their proceeding to build the new yacht ordered to be built by Christopher Pett, and so to Woolwich town, where at an alehouse I found them ready to attend my coming, and so took boat again, it being cold, and I sweating, with my walk, which was very pleasant along the green corne and pease, and most of the way sang, he and I, and eat some cold meat we had, and with great pleasure home, and so he took horse again, and Pembleton coming, we danced a country dance or two and so broke up and to bed, my mind restless and like to be so while she learns to dance. God forgive my folly.

dancing out of fear
is a great disorder

water going out with the tide
green and cold as old meat

we danced and broke
to be less like God


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 20 May 1663, and written under the influence of Agorophobic Nosebleed’s album
Arc.

Current events

Last year all they ever asked about
was the boxer with the crumpled face
and his like-a-drag-queen-dressing momma,
until the recent media fiasco and his homophobic
sermon. This year it’s going to be nothing
but the Filipino Trump, the curfew he’s imposed;
that crying scene at his parents’ graves
where he prayed for the light of some divine
or otherworldly guidance, straight
out of a telenovela; the rape jokes, the assassin
squads, the way pictures of dead bodies
have already landed on the front pages
with eyes and hands duct-taped, signs
hung on their bludgeoned torsos saying I
am a drug dealer and a bad example to society

Even now we’re bracing for the rhetoric of pity
and piety, the disputes that have broken out
among strangers as with kith and kin: Whose
side are you on?
But as always the taxicab
of history picks up its passengers, takes them where
they think they want to go; then leaves them there.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Gut.

Gut

Up pretty betimes, but yet I observe how my dancing and lying a morning or two longer than ordinary for my cold do make me hard to rise as I used to do, or look after my business as I am wont.
To my chamber to make an end of my papers to my father to be sent by the post to-night, and taking copies of them, which was a great work, but I did it this morning, and so to my office, and thence with Sir John Minnes to the Tower; and by Mr. Slingsby, and Mr. Howard, Controller of the Mint, we were shown the method of making this new money, from the beginning to the end, which is so pretty that I did take a note of every part of it and set them down by themselves for my remembrance hereafter. That being done it was dinner time, and so the Controller would have us dine with him and his company, the King giving them a dinner every day. And very merry and good discourse about the business we have been upon, and after dinner went to the Assay Office and there saw the manner of assaying of gold and silver, and how silver melted down with gold do part, just being put into aqua-fortis, the silver turning into water, and the gold lying whole in the very form it was put in, mixed of gold and silver, which is a miracle; and to see no silver at all but turned into water, which they can bring again into itself out of the water.
And here I was made thoroughly to understand the business of the fineness and coarseness of metals, and have put down my lessons with my other observations therein.
At table among other discourse they told us of two cheats, the best I ever heard. One, of a labourer discovered to convey away the bits of silver cut out pence by swallowing them down into his belly, and so they could not find him out, though, of course, they searched all the labourers; but, having reason to doubt him, they did, by threats and promises, get him to confess, and did find 7l. of it in his house at one time.
The other of one that got a way of coyning money as good and passable and large as the true money is, and yet saved fifty per cent. to himself, which was by getting moulds made to stamp groats like old groats, which is done so well, and I did beg two of them which I keep for rarities, that there is not better in the world, and is as good, nay, better than those that commonly go, which was the only thing that they could find out to doubt them by, besides the number that the party do go to put off, and then coming to the Comptroller of the Mint, he could not, I say, find out any other thing to raise any doubt upon, but only their being so truly round or near it, though I should never have doubted the thing neither. He was neither hanged nor burned, the cheat was thought so ingenious, and being the first time they could ever trap him in it, and so little hurt to any man in it, the money being as good as commonly goes.
Thence to the office till the evening, we sat, and then by water (taking Pembleton with us), over the water to the Halfway House, where we played at ninepins, and there my damned jealousy took fire, he and my wife being of a side and I seeing of him take her by the hand in play, though I now believe he did [it] only in passing and sport. Thence home and being 10 o’clock was forced to land beyond the Custom House, and so walked home and to my office, and having dispatched my great letters by the post to my father, of which I keep copies to show by me and for my future understanding, I went home to supper and bed, being late.

I observe how ordinary
is this miracle of a laborer

swallowing down into his belly
all threats and promises

like a better world
so truly round
and so little hurt to any man in it


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 19 May 1663.

What are you then

with no white name
with no black name

with no mixed blood
obvious enough to claim

with no history
of washing ashore

on a dinghy, or nearly
dying in a jungle war

with no complicated love
with no indigenous face

with no movie star relative
with no time spent working

for a sheikh in the middle east
with no lost years hiding

in basements without papers
with no siblings betrothed

to factory sewing
machines with no comfort

woman for a grandmother
with no deadbeat for

a father or call
girl for a mother

with no pedigree
of either poverty

or wealth with which
to thicken narrative

Lighthouse

“…our passing
is common as ash”
~ D. Bonta

Here at twilight, the smell
of earth after days of rain;
and over that, salt trace

carried over by wind
from the coast.
We climbed

the winding wrought-
iron staircase to look
over the mouth

of the bay. Inside
the tower’s bell-
shaped skirt,

the morning’s heat
another sheath
not yet shed—

Would we have known
where to look, or how
to find the pain budding

even then? The way
some things nest quietly
before they are noticed.

The way fog obscures
the shore, these rocks
that have always been here.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Immortal bird.

Immortal bird

Up and after taking leave of Sir W. Batten, who is gone this day towards Portsmouth (to little purpose, God knows) upon his survey, I home and spent the morning at dancing; at noon Creed dined with us and Mr. Deane of Woolwich, and so after dinner came Mr. Howe, who however had enough for his dinner, and so, having done, by coach to Westminster, she to Mrs. Clerke and I to St. James’s, where the Duke being gone down by water to-day with the King I went thence to my Lord Sandwich’s lodgings, where Mr. Howe and I walked a while, and going towards Whitehall through the garden Dr. Clerk and Creed called me across the bowling green, and so I went thither and after a stay went up to Mrs. Clerke who was dressing herself to go abroad with my wife. But, Lord! in what a poor condition her best chamber is, and things about her, for all the outside and show that she makes, but I found her just such a one as Mrs. Pierce, contrary to my expectation, so much that I am sick and sorry to see it.
Thence for an hour Creed and I walked to White Hall, and into the Park, seeing the Queen and Maids of Honour passing through the house going to the Park. But above all, Mrs. Stuart is a fine woman, and they say now a common mistress to the King, as my Lady Castlemaine is; which is a great pity. Thence taking a coach to Mrs. Clerke’s, took her, and my wife, and Ashwell, and a Frenchman, a kinsman of hers, to the Park, where we saw many fine faces, and one exceeding handsome, in a white dress over her head, with many others very beautiful. Staying there till past eight at night, I carried Mrs. Clerke and her Frenchman, who sings well, home, and thence home ourselves, talking much of what we had observed to-day of the poor household stuff of Mrs. Clerke and mere show and flutter that she makes in the world; and pleasing myself in my own house and manner of living more than ever I did by seeing how much better and more substantially I live than others do.
So to supper and bed.

mouth gone down
towards the owl

she makes us see our passing
is common as ash

fine hands over the night
sing of what we serve

the stuff and flutter of living
more than others


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 18 May 1663, made while listening to the band Immortal Bird.

Last light

(Lord’s day). Up and in my chamber all the morning, preparing my great letters to my father, stating to him the perfect condition of our estate. My wife and Ashwell to church, and after dinner they to church again, and I all the afternoon making an end of my morning’s work, which I did about the evening, and then to talk with my wife till after supper, and so to bed having another small falling out and myself vexed with my old fit of jealousy about her dancing-master. But I am a fool for doing it. So to bed by daylight, I having a very great cold, so as I doubt whether I shall be able to speak to-morrow at our attending the Duke, being now so hoarse.

perfect as church
making an end of work
the evening light


Erasure haiku derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 17 May 1663.

Phrenology

She was barely two
when she fell over the first
time in her crib, stiffening
into a seizure, rousing

fifteen hours later
from such a deep sleep
we kept anxious vigil,
noting the lack of tone

in her limbs—
We crowded around her
when she sat up in
the hospital bed:

wonder of the child
now speaking in complete
sentences, whereas before
she had just begun

forming words.
And she asked not only
for something to eat,
but specifically

for not just food
Meaning she craved,
somehow, a taste
she had not yet met.

More than fifty
years after, I still think
about that moment every now
and then, when I myself

hunger for something I can’t
place a finger on: for something
I want so badly, only I’ve been
asleep or away too long.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Fetish.

Fetish

Up with my mind disturbed and with my last night’s doubts upon me.
For which I deserve to be beaten if not really served as I am fearful of being, especially since God knows that I do not find honesty enough in my own mind but that upon a small temptation I could be false to her, and therefore ought not to expect more justice from her, but God pardon both my sin and my folly herein.
To my office and there sitting all the morning, and at noon dined at home. After dinner comes Pembleton, and I being out of humour would not see him, pretending business, but, Lord! with what jealousy did I walk up and down my chamber listening to hear whether they danced or no, which they did, notwithstanding I afterwards knew and did then believe that Ashwell was with them. So to my office awhile, and, my jealousy still reigning, I went in and, not out of any pleasure but from that only reason, did go up to them to practise, and did make an end of “La Duchesse,” which I think I should, with a little pains, do very well. So broke up and saw him gone.
Then Captain Cocke coming to me to speak about my seeming discourtesy to him in the business of his hemp, I went to the office with him, and there discoursed it largely and I think to his satisfaction.
Then to my business, writing letters and other things till late at night, and so home to supper and bed. My mind in some better ease resolving to prevent matters for the time to come as much as I can, it being to no purpose to trouble myself for what is past, being occasioned too by my own folly.

with night’s doubt upon me
I find a small god

sitting in amber
listening

whether or not I believe
it pains me

and it matters as much
as what I own


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 16 May 1663.