Via Negativa

Preparation

Dave Bonta — Sun, 12 Apr 2026 13:47:02 +0000

Up betimes and to my office, where we sat also all the morning till noon, and then home to dinner, my father being there but not very well. After dinner in comes Captain Lambert of the Norwich, this day come from Tangier, whom I am glad to see. There came also with him Captain Wager, and afterwards in came Captain Allen to see me, of the Resolution. All staid a pretty while, and so away, and I a while to my office, then abroad into the street with my father, and left him to go to see my aunt Wight and uncle, intending to lie at Tom’s to-night, or my cozen Scott’s, where it seems he has hitherto lain and is most kindly used there. So I home and to my office very late making up my Lord’s navy accounts, wherein I find him to stand debtor 1200l.. So home to supper and to bed.

morning becomes day
in the way
of road into street

and I
unintending to lie
making up a stand

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 11 April 1663.

Prayer

Luisa A. Igloria — Sun, 12 Apr 2026 04:19:45 +0000

The terrible trials still come. 
They haven't stopped. Weather 
that stays in place— days stacked 
like wet wool, nights that press 
on the ribs. Please let up already.
 
We're stripped down to nearly 
only the bones of our humanity. We
have to work so hard to even feel
capable of moving through the days.

My heart breaks for how much you
have to bear, as the rest of the world
blithely goes home to soft lamplight
and rest. It takes such work to coax
the soul to sit up straight in the body,
to convince it the music hasn't ended.
That it still has the capacity to dance.

Let today be the day, Lord. Send 
a sign that a flood of clear air 
is coming, that you won't begrudge 
the handful of coins in our hands. 
Give us mercy and a little hope. 
Our due at last. Fists unclasped.

That Dog, Money

Luisa A. Igloria — Sat, 11 Apr 2026 15:57:06 +0000

Did your father keep cash
      in a sock then slide that under
the mattress? and your mother, did she  
      keep bills in separate envelopes  
labeled food, water, light? Having lived 
      through the war, my parents knew 
the fear of losing everything, having 
      nothing but the kind of debt which has 
a habit of growing bigger while you sleep. 
      I must have formed my attitudes toward 
money from them: fear that the universe 
      could punish you for spending on frivolous
things instead of just the necessities— good  
      cheese rather than cheese spread, fruit 
rather than juice from concentrate.
      That vacation postponed for the nth
year in a row and perhaps forever, since
      the price of fuel is even more expensive
now. Our savvy friends talk about making
      their money work hard for them
while they sleep: a tool they say, used      
      well, frees you for longer stretches
you could fill with conversation, hobbies,
      or books and art. What is it worth
to work overtime without pay, catch
      only four hours of sleep a day
then fall asleep at the wheel? With every 
      paycheck, pay yourself first but set 
aside twenty percent for savings and debt 
      repayment. Clear accounts. Know 
what you have and where it goes, care for it 
      as you would an animal that remembers
its wild, fanged nature, but now will fetch,
      sit, and come when it is called.

Budburst

Dave Bonta — Sat, 11 Apr 2026 00:23:53 +0000

Up very betimes and to my office, where most hard at business alone all the morning. At noon to the Exchange, where I hear that after great expectation from Ireland, and long stop of letters, there is good news come, that all is quiett after our great noise of troubles there, though some stir hath been as was reported.
Off the Exchange with Sir J. Cutler and Mr. Grant to the Royall Oak Tavern, in Lumbard Street, where Alexander Broome the poet was, a merry and witty man, I believe, if he be not a little conceited, and here drank a sort of French wine, called Ho Bryan, that hath a good and most particular taste that I never met with.
Home to dinner, and then by water abroad to Whitehall, my wife to see Mrs. Ferrers, I to Whitehall and the Park, doing no business. Then to my Lord’s lodgings, met my wife, and walked to the New Exchange. There laid out 10s. upon pendents and painted leather gloves, very pretty and all the mode. So by coach home and to my office till late, and so to supper and to bed.

all change is news
a quiet noise
some stir

and the oak and the poet
believe it
a sort of call

go taste the water
see new loves

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 10 April 1663.

Living in the In-between

Luisa A. Igloria — Fri, 10 Apr 2026 23:45:47 +0000

In these parts surrounded by water,
you learn that the sea can loosen 
its grip but always comes back.

But after months, years, aftermath
after aftermath, there are days like
today. When the air lightens like light

itself, then you can see how the heron 
stands on the bank, as if stitched to permanence. 
Water is trapped in mudflats, but there is also 

shimmer in shades of purple. This is the time 
before fruit ripens from flower, before 
the bruise of summer. In a hurt world, 

you try to understand these ongoing 
lessons in wonder. Rain, when it returns, 
remembers every surface it's ever met.

Consultation

Dave Bonta — Fri, 10 Apr 2026 00:17:37 +0000

Up betimes and to my office, and anon we met upon finishing the Treasurer’s accounts. At noon dined at home and am vexed to hear my wife tell me how our maid Mary do endeavour to corrupt our cook maid, which did please me very well, but I am resolved to rid the house of her as soon as I can.
To the office and sat all the afternoon till 9 at night, and an hour after home to supper and bed. My father lying at Tom’s to-night, he dining with my uncle Fenner and his sons and a great many more of the gang at his own cost to-day.
To bed vexed also to think of Sir J. Minnes finding fault with Mr. Hater for what he had done the other day, though there be no hurt in the thing at all but only the old fool’s jealousy, made worse by Sir W. Batten.

we met in the vexed
ear of an afternoon

an hour lying
at my own cost
with Mr. Hater

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 9 April 1663.

Verklempt

Dave Bonta — Thu, 09 Apr 2026 13:54:53 +0000

Up betimes and to my office, and by and by, about 8 o’clock, to the Temple to Commissioner Pett lately come to town and discoursed about the affairs of our office, how ill they go through the corruption and folly of Sir W. Batten and Sir J. Minnes.
Thence by water to White Hall, to chappell; where preached Dr. Pierce, the famous man that preached the sermon so much cried up, before the King against the Papists.
His matter was the Devil tempting our Saviour, being carried into the Wilderness by the spirit. And he hath as much of natural eloquence as most men that ever I heard in my life, mixed with so much learning.
After sermon I went up and saw the ceremony of the Bishop of Peterborough’s paying homage upon the knee to the King, while Sir H. Bennet, Secretary, read the King’s grant of the Bishopric of Lincoln, to which he is translated. His name is Dr. Lany. Here I also saw the Duke of Monmouth, with his Order of the Garter, the first time I ever saw it.
I am told that the University of Cambridge did treat him a little while since with all the honour possible, with a comedy at Trinity College, and banquet; and made him Master of Arts there. All which, they say, the King took very well. Dr. Raynbow, Master of Magdalen, being now Vice-Chancellor.
Home by water to dinner, and with my father, wife, and Ashwell, after dinner, by water towards Woolwich, and in our way I bethought myself that we had left our poor little dog that followed us out of doors at the waterside, and God knows whether he be not lost, which did not only strike my wife into a great passion but I must confess myself also; more than was becoming me. We immediately returned, I taking another boat and with my father went to Woolwich, while they went back to find the dog.
I took my father on board the King’s pleasure boat and down to Woolwich, and walked to Greenwich thence and turning into the park to show my father the steps up the hill, we found my wife, her woman, and dog attending us, which made us all merry again, and so took boats, they to Deptford and so by land to Half-way house, I into the King’s yard and overlook them there, and eat and drank with them, and saw a company of seamen play drolly at our pence, and so home by water. I a little at the office, and so home to supper and to bed, after having Ashwell play my father and me a lesson upon her Tryangle.

how I cried
a devil in the wilderness
of my life

the first time I saw
a little lost dog turn
to look at me

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 8 April 1663.

Portrait of the Body After Having Given Birth

Luisa A. Igloria — Thu, 09 Apr 2026 04:00:00 +0000

All of us travel here 
in the same way, in our
own time.

The body, breaking 
through the surface,
learns that such entry 
is never clean. 

What opens may not ever
return to its former shape.
At the moment it happens,
it's aided by gravity.

And the mind, too, moves
downward toward what 
palpably hurts. 

After, there is 
the loneliness of having 
been the doorway. You are
the portal through which more 
than language has passed.

You can't take anything
back. You can call it 
devotion or you can 
call it regret. 

But it isn't by accident
that the areola's soft 
bluish flesh connects 
magnetically 

to that ocean in whose depths 
one could drown, cresting
the waves of pleasure.

Dentation

Dave Bonta — Wed, 08 Apr 2026 13:17:18 +0000

Up very betimes, and angry with Will that he made no more haste to rise after I called him. So to my office, and all the morning there. At noon to the Exchange, and so home to dinner, where I found my wife had been with Ashwell to La Roche’s to have her tooth drawn, which it seems aches much, but my wife could not get her to be contented to have it drawn after the first twich, but would let it alone, and so they came home with it undone, which made my wife and me good sport.
After dinner to the office, where Sir J. Minnes did make a great complaint to me alone, how my clerk Mr. Hater had entered in one of the Sea books a ticket to have been signed by him before it had been examined, which makes the old fool mad almost, though there was upon enquiry the greatest reason in the world for it. Which though it vexes me, yet it is most to see from day to day what a coxcomb he is, and that so great a trust should lie in the hands of such a fool.
We sat all the afternoon, and I late at my office, it being post night, and so home to supper, my father being come again to my house, and after supper to bed, and after some talk to sleep.

an angry tooth aches
after the first twitch

one hate entered in a book
makes the old
mad at the world

yet day to day lie
in the hands of night
again to sleep

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 7 April 1663.

On Not Repeating

Luisa A. Igloria — Wed, 08 Apr 2026 04:00:43 +0000

Counting, like in the tales
where girls are given impossible
tasks to numb their fingers and hearts— 
Separate grain from pebbles by nightfall, 
sew seven shirts without speaking a word 
for seven years. Silence itself, part 
of the spell: a clause in a contract 
you don't even remember having signed 
in blood or ink. Only in those stories
are there helpers: talking mice, 
birds, ants, meaning belief 
in the kindness of nature which 
somehow bends toward you because 
it intuits an injustice. But I want 
to know how the curse can be broken, 
how the loop of bad luck can be severed 
once and for all, not just reversed. 
I want to drop this needle and 
burn this loom, see my loves 
emerge out of the forest or 
soften from stone back into flesh. 
Let whatever I may have mislaid 
be suddenly found in the corner 
of a coat pocket, the toe of a shoe.