Accounting

To White Hall, where I found my Lord gone with the King by water to dine at the Tower with Sir J. Robinson, Lieutenant. I found my Lady Jemimah at my Lord’s, with whom I staid and dined, all alone; after dinner to the Privy Seal Office, where I did business. So to a Committee of Parliament (Sir Hen[eage] Finch, Chairman), to give them an answer to an order of theirs, “that we could not give them any account of the Accounts of the Navy in the years 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, as they desire.” After that I went and bespoke some linen of Betty Lane in the Hall, and after that to the Trumpet, where I sat and talked with her, &c.
At night, it being very rainy, and it thundering and lightning exceedingly, I took coach at the Trumpet door, taking Monsieur L’Impertinent along with me as far as the Savoy, where he said he went to lie with Cary Dillon, and is still upon the mind of going (he and his whole family) to Ireland. Having set him down I made haste home, and in the courtyard, it being very dark, I heard a man inquire for my house, and having asked his business, he told me that my man William (who went this morning — out of town to meet his aunt Blackburne) was come home not very well to his mother, and so could not come home to-night. At which I was very sorry. I found my wife still in pain. To bed, having not time to write letters, and indeed having so many to write to all places that I have no heart to go about them.
Mrs. Shaw did die yesterday and her husband so sick that he is not like to live.

To a hen finch I give an account of the accounts of desire.

Night rain, thunder and lightning. I hear a man in pain.

I write to all places that have no heart.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 4 August 1660.

Muse

Up betimes this morning, and after the barber had done with me, then to the office, where I and Sir William Pen only did meet and despatch business. At noon my wife and I by coach to Dr. Clerke’s to dinner: I was very much taken with his lady, a comely, proper woman, though not handsome; but a woman of the best language that ever I heard any in my life. Here dined Mrs. Pierce and her husband.
After dinner I took leave to go to Westminster, where I was at the Privy Seal Office all day, signing things and taking money, so that I could not do as I had intended, that is to return to them and go to the Red Bull Playhouse, but I took coach and went to see whether it was done so or no, and I found it done. So I returned to Dr. Clerke’s, where I found them and my wife, and by and by took leave and went away home.

This morning I was taken
with a comely woman: not handsome
but a woman of the best language
that ever I heard any
in my life.
I took leave to go to the office
and could not return.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 3 August 1660.

Front Gate

To Westminster by water with Sir W. Batten and Sir W. Pen (our servants in another boat) to the Admiralty; and from thence I went to my Lord’s to fetch him thither, where we stayed in the morning about ordering of money for the victuallers, and advising how to get a sum of money to carry on the business of the Navy. From thence dined with Mr. Blackburne at his house with his friends (his wife being in the country and just upon her return to London), where we were very well treated and merry.
From thence W. Hewer and I to the office of Privy Seal, where I stayed all the afternoon, and received about 40l. for yesterday and to-day, at which my heart rejoiced for God’s blessing to me, to give me this advantage by chance, there being of this 40l. about 10l. due to me for this day’s work. So great is the present profit of this office, above what it was in the King’s time; there being the last month about 300 bills; whereas in the late King’s time it was much to have 40. With my money home by coach.
It being the first time that I could get home before our gates were shut since I came to the Navy office.
When I came home I found my wife not very well of her old pain in the lip of her chose which she had when we were married first.
I went and cast up the expense that I laid out upon my former house (because there are so many that are desirous of it, and I am, in my mind, loth to let it go out of my hands, for fear of a turn). I find my layings-out to come to about 20l., which with my fine will come to about 22l. to him that shall hire my house of me.
To bed.

Black with ivy,
my heart is a gate,
shut since I found my wife.
I let it go to him
that shall hire my house.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 2 August 1660.

From Empire: Dispersal Triolet

9

The memory of home is ultimately a construct of the mind*
I read these lines aloud and trail my hand along the windowsill.
My fingers gather dust, the scent of citrus oil, the fine-
sieved memories of home I have constructed in my mind—
Yellowed paper on which a faded visage floats, still kind:
I make up stories for the ones I’ll never know, distill
a memory of home that’s ultimately a construct of the mind—
I read these lines aloud and trail my hand along the windowsill.

*after Tina Chang

 

In response to Via Negativa: Sad Money.

Six-Line Psalm

Up very early, and by water to Whitehall to my Lord’s, and there up to my Lord’s lodging (Wm. Howe being now ill of the gout at Mr. Pierce’s), and there talked with him about the affairs of the Navy, and how I was now to wait today at the Privy Seal. Commissioner Pett went with me, whom I desired to make my excuse at the office for my absence this day.
Hence to the Privy Seal Office, where I got (by Mr. Mathews’ means) possession of the books and table, but with some expectation of Baron’s bringing of a warrant from the King to have this month.
Nothing done this morning, Baron having spoke to Mr. Woodson and Groome (clerks to Mr. Trumbull of the Signet) to keep all work in their hands till the afternoon, at which time he expected to have his warrant from the King for this month.
I took at noon Mr. Harper to the Leg in King Street, and did give him his dinner, who did still advise me much to act wholly myself at the Privy Seal, but I told him that I could not, because I had other business to take up my time.
In the afternoon at, the office again, where we had many things to sign; and I went to the Council Chamber, and there got my Lord to sign the first bill, and the rest all myself; but received no money today. After I had signed all, I went with Dick Scobell and Luellin to drink at a bottle beer house in the Strand, and after staying there a while (had sent W. Hewer home before), I took boat and homewards went, and in Fish Street bought a Lobster, and as I had bought it I met with Winter and Mr. Delabarr, and there with a piece of sturgeon of theirs we went to the Sun Tavern in the street and ate them. Late home and to bed.

My Lord is with me;
I desire a book of hands.
Give me to act
wholly myself.
Bottle me a lobster
and a winter sun.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 1 August 1660.

Sad Money

To White Hall, where my Lord and the principal officers met, and had a great discourse about raising of money for the Navy, which is in very sad condition, and money must be raised for it. Mr. Blackburne, Dr. Clerke, and I to the Quaker’s and dined there. I back to the Admiralty, and there was doing things in order to the calculating of the debts of the Navy and other business, all the afternoon. At night I went to the Privy Seal, where I found Mr. Crofts and Mathews making up all their things to leave the office tomorrow, to those that come to wait the next month. I took them to the Sun Tavern and there made them drink, and discoursed concerning the office, and what I was to expect tomorrow about Baron, who pretends to the next month.
Late home by coach so far as Ludgate with Mr. Mathews, and thence home on foot with W. Hewer with me, and so to bed.

I had sad money
and a din of debts all night,
things that come to wait:
the sun on ice,
a pretend home on foot.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 31 July 1660.

From Empire: Trendy Triolet

8

This summer, the tribal look is all the rage—
tropical glow, ikat weave, frayed jute and hemp.
Selection’s key: leave out requirements for paying a fair wage.
This summer, the tribal look is all the rage—
chiseled cheekbones complete the effect, that ravaged-
seeming look airbrushed and primed, Botoxed, exempt
from blemish. This summer, the tribal look is all the rage—
tropical glow, ikat weave, frayed jute and hemp.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Sacred Scarab.

From Empire: Triolet, with Recycled Paper Placemat and Coaster Set

7

My country’s rolled-up newspapers adorn your Formica counter;
and on the margins of the export processing zone, a child takes
a soldier by the hand, says: Virgin, Joe? I take you to my mother.
My country’s rolled-up newspapers adorn your Formica counter.
One man’s trash, another’s treasure: as long as the middleman’s offer
translates to cash for food, shelter. Fair’s fair, not just for those who take.
My country’s rolled-up newspapers adorn your Formica counter.
Destitute, on the margins— how blame the child for what she takes?

 

In response to Via Negativa: Poem for Display in a Shopping Mall Food Court.

From Empire: Leftover Triolet, with Stray Dogs

6

Sing, mutts and creatures bred by colonizing histories—
Sing, women ravaged on riverbanks, left for dead in alley-ways—
Sing, children scavenging in city sewers amid debris—
Sing, mutts and creatures bred by colonizing histories—
Sing in the open, burn the old signs; reinstate stories
unsung, whitewashed, glossed over, banished by lies or stays.
Sing, mutts and creatures bred by colonizing histories—
Sing, women ravaged on riverbanks, left for dead in alley-ways.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Imperial Official.

From Empire: Discrimination Triolet

5

How long am I supposed to sing in only a minor key?
Not half-, not bi-; not pre-, not post-; not black, not fair—
Though my mind and tongue, my heart can trill as fluently.
How long am I supposed to sing in only a minor key?
When installed to office finally, it’s almost always grudgingly:
always one more checkpoint for those neither here nor there.
How long am I supposed to sing in only a minor key?
Not half-, not bi-; not pre-, not post-; not black, not fair.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Imperial Official.