Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
Original poetry, translations and videopoems by the authors of this blog. (See Poets and poetry for criticism, etc.)
After all flesh is flensed,
the shape of the fish
is leaf, or the hull of a boat—
Flattened and dried
to the hue of balsa, whole
schools swim in waterless air.
In the dried fish market,
it’s hard to disregard
the certainty of what
they know: smell and taste
of sun-dried putrefaction,
gifts of salt and leathered skin
the body wants to hold on to
for as long as it possibly can.
In response to Via Negativa: Diagnosis.
Rye Lane, Peckham, yesterday. A cooler day, with hovering rain and storms: the kind of weather that brings seabirds inland. Remembering that the gritty inner-city areas were once where I felt most comfortable. It’s different now. I’m older, and our cities harsher. Now I’m only saddened by the grinding poverty and shocked – coming here from next-door Dulwich – by the glaring class and racial separation…
seagulls circle
crying over Peckham
migrant voices
Among my workmen early: then to the office, and there I had letters from the Downs from Mr. Coventry; who tells me of the foul weather they had last Sunday, that drove them back from near Boulogne, whither they were going for the Queen, back again to the Downs, with the loss of their cables, sayles, and masts; but are all safe, only my Lord Sandwich, who went before with the yachts; they know not what is become of him, which do trouble me much; but I hope he got ashore before the storm begun; which God grant!
All day at the office, only at home at dinner, where I was highly angry with my wife for her keys being out of the way, but they were found at last, and so friends again. All the afternoon answering letters and writing letters, and at night to Mr. Coventry an ample letter in answer to all his and the Duke’s business.
Late at night at the office, where my business is great, being now all alone in town, but I shall go through it with pleasure. So home and to bed.
letters answer letters
letters at night answer the night
where I eat all alone
with pleasure
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 22 July 1662.
A translation of a pyramid poem by Québécois poet, writer, artist, and musician Raôul (or Raöul) Duguay. I’m not sure quite what to make of it, but I do like the chords and discords that result from reading it out loud. It comes across as a sort of Lucky’s speech from ‘Godot’ without any syntactical architecture!
oh ah ah mine thine yes no all nothing flower nettle bird viper universe cell order a disorder starfishy nebula atom bread butter fire air freedom water slavery sun field town alley plane earth globe lunar light garden shadow asphalt tree delight day night tear fear house table wheat room province state stone weather space particles east full love west empty hunger smile caress you him fear work luck spring someone theirs muscles iron foot hand breast sweet woman sex arms wife rock heart essence thirst faith flesh existence prison light summer leaf juice autumn plastic concrete mountain horse pathway valley car cement egg hatching health mother bomb blood scratch music star snow pine tree cry sleep twilight law color rhythm butterfly game earthworm grey speed stop wolfpack dance wave ocean shoreline salt accident face foam slide singing prayer speaking book sun machine radio television plan caress drawing line curve volume step building silver electricity go fruit vegetable milk honey cereals hot dog hamburger steak potatoes child woman beauty peace MAN MAN animal vegetable mineral moved
Due to the difficulty of having a poem formatted in HTML appear the same in all environments, we present an alternate version in image form below:
Here’s the original (not to be confused with another Duguay pyramid poem of the same title):
ô a a ma ta oui non tout rien fleur ortie oiseau vipère univers cellule ordre un désordre astérisme nébuleuse atome pain beurre feu air liberté eau esclave soleil champ ville ruelle planète terre globe lunaire lumière jardin ombre asphalte arbre joie jour nuit pleur peur maison table blé chambre province pays pierre temps espace poussières orient plein amour occident vide faim sourire caresse toi lui crainte travail bonheur printemps on eux muscles fer pied main sein femme bonté sexe bras femme roche coeur essence soif foi corps existence prison lumière feuille été jus automne plastique béton montagne cheval sentiers vallée automobile ciment oeuf éclosion santé maman bombe explosion sang bobo musique étoile neige sapin cri sommeil crépuscule loi couleur rythme papillon jeu ver gris vitesse stop meute danse vague océan rivage sel accident visage écume coulée chant prière parole livre sol machine radio télévision plancaresse dessin ligne courbe volume pas building argent électricité go fruit légume lait miel céréales hot dog hamburger steak patates enfant femme beauté paix HOMME HOMME animal végétal minéral mû
23
Lying in the dark, there is still so much she wants
to understand— The gecko’s repeating warble, the whimper
of the cat beside the neighbor’s fence. Brown-streaked kalachuchi
blossoms resting on the surface of the cistern after last night’s rain.
In response to Via Negativa: Sweet exiled words....
Up early, and though I found myself out of order and cold, and the weather cold and likely to rain, yet upon my promise and desire to do what I intended, I did take boat and down to Greenwich, to Captain Cocke’s, who hath a most pleasant seat, and neat. Here I drank wine, and eat some fruit off the trees; and he showed a great rarity, which was two or three of a great number of silver dishes and plates, which he bought of an embassador that did lack money, in the edge or rim of which was placed silver and gold medalls, very ancient, and I believe wrought, by which, if they be, they are the greatest rarity that ever I saw in my life, and I will show Mr. Crumlum them.
Thence to Woolwich to the Rope-yard; and there looked over several sorts of hemp, and did fall upon my great survey of seeing the working and experiments of the strength and the charge in the dressing of every sort; and I do think have brought it to so great a certainty, as I have done the King great service in it: and do purpose to get it ready against the Duke’s coming to town to present to him.
I breakfasted at Mr. Falconer’s well, and much pleased with my inquiries.
Thence to the dock, where we walked in Mr. Shelden’s garden, eating more fruit, and drinking, and eating figs, which were very good, and talking while the Royal James was bringing towards the dock, and then we went out and saw the manner and trouble of docking such a ship, which yet they could not do, but only brought her head into the Dock, and so shored her up till next tide. But, good God! what a deal of company was there from both yards to help to do it, when half the company would have done it as well. But I see it is impossible for the King to have things done as cheap as other men.
Thence by water, and by and by landing at the riverside somewhere among the reeds, we walked to Greenwich, where to Cocke’s house again and walked in the garden, and then in to his lady, who I find is still pretty, but was now vexed and did speak very discontented and angry to the Captain for disappointing a gentleman that he had invited to dinner, which he took like a wise man and said little, but she was very angry, which put me clear out of countenance that I was sorry I went in. So after I had eat still some more fruit I took leave of her in the garden plucking apricots for preserving, and went away and so by water home, and there Mr. Moore coming and telling me that my Lady goes into the country to-morrow, I carried my wife by coach to take her leave of her father, I staying in Westminster Hall, she going away also this week, and thence to my Lady’s, where we staid and supped with her, but found that my Lady was truly angry and discontented with us for our neglecting to see her as we used to do, but after a little she was pleased as she was used to be, at which we were glad. So after supper home to bed.
I found myself out
of order and cold
like a boat in the trees,
silver and ancient.
I ought to fall
towards the shore, landing
somewhere among the reeds
like a clear fruit of water.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 21 July 1662.
22
Who is that girl who did not want to wait
to choose or be chosen, who wanted instead
to take her time, desiring, taking it all in?
One can be at once very good, and unruly.
(Lord’s day). My wife and I lay talking long in bed, and at last she is come to be willing to stay two months in the country, for it is her unwillingness to stay till the house is quite done that makes me at a loss how to have her go or stay.
But that which troubles me most is that it has rained all this morning so furiously that I fear my house is all over water, and with that expectation I rose and went into my house and find that it is as wet as the open street, and that there is not one dry-footing above nor below in my house. So I fitted myself for dirt, and removed all my books to the office and all day putting up and restoring things, it raining all day long as hard within doors as without. At last to dinner, we had a calf’s head and bacon at my chamber at Sir W. Pen’s, and there I and my wife concluded to have her go and her two maids and the boy, and so there shall be none but Will and I left at home, and so the house will be freer, for it is impossible to have anybody come into my house while it is in this condition, and with this resolution all the afternoon we were putting up things in the further cellar against next week for them to be gone, and my wife and I into the office and there measured a silk flag that I had found there, and hope to get it to myself, for it has not been demanded since I came to the office. But my wife is not hasty to have it, but rather to stay a while longer and see the event whether it will be missed or no.
At night to my office, and there put down this day’s passages in my journall, and read my oaths, as I am obliged every Lord’s day. And so to Sir W. Pen’s to my chamber again, being all in dirt and foul, and in fear of having catched cold today with dabbling in the water.
But what has vexed me to-day was that by carrying the key to Sir W. Pen’s last night, it could not in the midst of all my hurry to carry away my books and things, be found, and at last they found it in the fire that we made last night. So to bed.
I fear the open street.
There is above my office door
a calf’s head
and we put up in the cellar
a silk flag I found in the dirt,
a key I found in the fire.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 20 July 1662.
21
Yesterday I heard someone recite a poem
I’d written almost from another life. In it,
the sound of gongs carried, and also the wind,
in almost exactly the same way as before.
Up early and to some business, and my wife coming to me I staid long with her discoursing about her going into the country, and as she is not very forward so am I at a great loss whether to have her go or no because of the charge, and yet in some considerations I would be glad she was there, because of the dirtiness of my house and the trouble of having of a family there. So to my office, and there all the morning, and then to dinner and my brother Tom dined with me only to see me. In the afternoon I went upon the river to look after some tarr I am sending down and some coles, and so home again; it raining hard upon the water, I put ashore and sheltered myself, while the King came by in his barge, going down towards the Downs to meet the Queen: the Duke being gone yesterday. But methought it lessened my esteem of a king, that he should not be able to command the rain.
Home, and Cooper coming (after I had dispatched several letters) to my mathematiques, and so at night to bed to a chamber at Sir W. Pen’s, my own house being so foul that I cannot lie there any longer, and there the chamber lies so as that I come into it over my leads without going about, but yet I am not fully content with it, for there will be much trouble to have servants running over the leads to and fro.
the dirtiness
of the river after
a hard rain
Erasure haiku derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 19 July 1662.