Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
Original poetry, translations and videopoems by the authors of this blog. (See Poets and poetry for criticism, etc.)
*offering to the spirits
Adtoy kami a makidaya
kadakayo nga simmina
kadakami ditoy nalidaay a daga—
Umali kayon, makiinom,
makipangan. Saan kuma
nga agbalbaliw
iti pannakapateg yo—
Kasla tagtagitnep
dagitoy aldaw ken rabii
no saan a naulesan
ti arakopyo.
*
Here we are to supplicate
you who’ve left us
in this desolate world—
Come and drink, come
share our food. May
your faithfulness
remain unchanged—
For the days and nights
are merely dreams
stripped of the blanket
of your embrace.
the bird a white, wounded thing
weaving its way through the rushes,
nothing but the shadow of its heart
beating a faint pulse on the water,
in what we assume can only be
desolation. It bends
its neck again and again
in the shape of a question
against the blue slate of a day
that might otherwise be called
perfect. And yes we know better:
nothing so deeply immersed
in time and chance can be perfect.
But nothing can be so finished, meaning
that though the hour is either too late
or too early, place is immaterial only if
the body has given up its claim on the soul.
In response to Via Negativa: Engrossed.
Up early and by coach to White Hall with Commissioner Pett, where, after we had talked with my Lord, I went to the Privy Seal and got my bill perfected there, and at the Signet: and then to the House of Lords, and met with Mr. Kipps, who directed me to Mr. Beale to get my patent engrossed.
But he not having time to get it done in Chancery-hand, I was forced to run all up and down Chancery-lane, and the Six Clerks’ Office but could find none that could write the hand, that were at leisure. And so in a despair went to the Admiralty, where we met the first time there, my Lord Montagu, my Lord Barkley, Mr. Coventry, and all the rest of the principal Officers and Commissioners, [except] only the Controller, who is not yet chosen. At night to Mr. Kipps’s lodgings, but not finding him, I went to Mr. Spong’s and there I found him and got him to come to me to my Lord’s lodgings at 11 o’clock of night, when I got him to take my bill to write it himself (which was a great providence that he could do it) against to-morrow morning.
I late writing letters to sea by the post, and so home to bed. In great trouble because I heard at Mr. Beale’s to-day that Barlow had been there and said that he would make a stop in the business.
All is perfect:
engrossed in time and chance,
I despair, bark
at the clock, write
late and low.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 12 July 1660.
What hectare, what crop, what
packet of seed and parcel of land?
Nothing I have bequeaths itself
so fully, involuntarily.
Devoted to the hours, milk
drips from dusky teats
into each sick and reddened eye.
My jewel, my luminous one: I wrote
to you until the candles blinked
into a helix of flame that turned
in the cold, in the heat.
In response to Via Negativa: Foolscap.
With Sir W. Pen by water to the Navy office, where we met, and dispatched business. And that being done, we went all to dinner to the Dolphin, upon Major Brown’s invitation.
After that to the office again, where I was vexed, and so was Commissioner Pett, to see a busy fellow come to look out the best lodgings for my Lord Barkley, and the combining between him and Sir W. Pen; and, indeed, was troubled much at it.
Home to White Hall, and took out my bill signed by the King, and carried it to Mr. Watkins of the Privy Seal to be despatched there, and going home to take a cap, I borrowed a pair of sheets of Mr. Howe, and by coach went to the Navy office, and lay (Mr. Hater, my clerk, with me) at Commissioner Willoughby’s house, where I was received by him very civilly and slept well.
Water to a dolphin:
I look out the best lodgings
for my Lord Pen.
It borrowed sheets,
went to the office
and slept well.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 11 July 1660.
Let me be
that lean-lined,
silver-tipped, quiet-
gleaned, clear-belled
retinue, flotilla
of fragile bark
proceeding
bravely on a sea
so wide,
uncompromising.
In response to Via Negativa: Fir Tree.
The wolves have finally come to me for advice. Avoid making eye contact with saints & ranchers, I say. Stick to the suburbs where no one else goes to hunt. The wolves are tired; their tongues glisten like red silk ties. In the window of the building opposite, a white cat levitates on a sudden carpet of arms. The Daily Mail headline reads, IS YOUR CHILD A PSYCHOPATH? IT’S MORE COMMON THAN YOU THINK. My love has taken five sharp sticks & begun to knit me a sock. What big toenails you have, she says.
This day I put on first my new silk suit, the first that ever I wore in my life. This morning came Nan Pepys’ husband Mr. Hall to see me being lately come to town. I had never seen him before. I took him to the Swan tavern with Mr. Eglin and there drank our morning draft. Home, and called my wife, and took her to Dr. Clodius’s to a great wedding of Nan Hartlib to Mynheer Roder, which was kept at Goring House with very great state, cost, and noble company. But, among all the beauties there, my wife was thought the greatest. After dinner I left the company, and carried my wife to Mrs. Turner’s. I went to the Attorney-General’s, and had my bill which cost me seven pieces. I called my wife, and set her home. And finding my Lord in White Hall garden, I got him to go to the Secretary’s, which he did, and desired the dispatch of his and my bills to be signed by the King.
His bill is to be Earl of Sandwich, Viscount Hinchingbroke, and Baron of St. Neot’s.
Home, with my mind pretty quiet: not returning, as I said I would, to see the bride put to bed.
The fir is never seen in draft
but among the greatest company.
I turn to her
and find in a garden
the desire to be quiet as a bride.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 10 July 1660.
Pigeons and gulls
reel in the eye
of the sun—
sand fiddlers,
mudskippers,
not a palm-
tree in sight:
only a stretch
of shimmer
waving just
ahead, just out
of reach.
In response to Via Negativa: Palm Tree.
All the morning at Sir G. Palmer’s advising about getting my bill drawn. From thence to the Navy office, where in the afternoon we met and sat, and there I begun to sign bills in the Office the first time. From thence Captain Holland and Mr. Browne of Harwich took me to a tavern and did give me a collation. From thence to the Temple to further my bills being done, and so home to my Lord, and thence to bed.
The palm is
a navy of
the afternoon,
a sign from Holland,
a temple
to a hen.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 9 July 1660.