The average lifespan
is four thousand weeks, give or take.
What should we do
with our allotment?
In this economy of days,
a work week is held in contrast
to paid time off or vacations.
Doing nothing is still
a form of doing and there are many fine
forms of doing nothing— sitting
in a cathedral built of slow
mornings, sleeping while rain
divides into currencies you'll
eventually give up counting.
The days wrap around you sometimes
like a thin clinical gown,
neither cloth nor paper.
You can wear it to open in front
or in the back. Either way, you are
easier to access. Forget your bad
hip, your bum shoulder. They're mere
distractions when you want to take
time peeling an orange, releasing its scent
as you pull pith away from flesh.
Divined
Up betimes and put up some things to send to Brampton. Then abroad to the Temple, and up and down about business, and met Mr. Moore; and with him to an alehouse in Holborn; where in discourse he told me that he fears the King will be tempted to endeavour the setting the Crown upon the little Duke, which may cause troubles; which God forbid, unless it be his due! He told me my Lord do begin to settle to business again, which I am glad of, for he must not sit out, now he has done his own business by getting his estate settled, and that the King did send for him the other day to my Lady Castlemaine’s, to play at cards, where he lost 50l.; for which I am sorry, though he says my Lord was pleased at it, and said he would be glad at any time to lose 50l. for the King to send for him to play, which I do not so well like.
Thence home, and after dinner to the office, where we sat till night, and then made up my papers and letters by the post, and so home to dance with Pembleton.
This day we received a baskett from my sister Pall, made by her of paper, which hath a great deal of labour in it for country innocent work.
After supper to bed, and going to bed received a letter from Mr. Coventry desiring my coming to him to-morrow morning, which troubled me to think what the business should be, fearing it must be some bad news in Tom Hater’s business.
the temple
tempted the god
to play king
to play
like the night
all innocent
after a letter
from tomorrow
bled ink
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 14 May 1663.
Self-portrait at Women’s Health Clinic, with Nail Stickers
I tell the specialist I'm exhausted. Not the ordinary
kind of tired but a tired that feels bone-deep, comes on
suddenly and without warning hands me gears to a machine
I'm now supposed to steer indefinitely. I grit my teeth
just to get through the day. I'm tired not because
I had one too many salt-rimmed drinks, or binged
episode after episode of Grantchester. She scrolls
through my files, and my history pops up like an old
neighborhood: biopsy fifteen years ago, atypical
breast hyperplasia. Menopause, the threshold
I passed, lined with night sweats and mood swings.
She says this late, hormone replacement won't help;
and in fact might increase the risk for strokes,
heart attack, cancer. What can help? I ask. I still
have so many things I want to do! She says I'll have
to discuss this further with my primary care doctor,
explore other avenues. Then— just like that— she pauses
over my hands. Where did you get your nails done?
I tell her they're stickers, a set my daughter ordered
online from Japan. No gel, no ammonia, and they last
at least two weeks. She calls in the resident and
the assistants, delighted. They marvel at the gloss
and artful gradations of color. It's as if I've become
a wonder, an amazing specimen instead of just another
problematic body. She apologizes for not being more
helpful but thanks me for teaching her something new.
I walk back to the parking garage, my tired body
somehow still capable of offering beauty.
Documentation
It's what they ask for
when they want to know
what was cut, filled,
altered; removed, taken,
and how much. Trees do
what they do, with or
without witness. Water,
too, will seek its way
through stone. Method
is the preferred way
of building the record,
with language that holds
what it's given to carry.
But there are times
the record is more of
invention: a shift
in the shape of things,
the making of something
that will have no ability
to reply to a question.
Wizardry
Lay till 6 o’clock and then up, and after a little talk and mirth, he went away, and I to my office, where busy all the morning, and at noon home to dinner, and after dinner Pembleton came and I practised. But, Lord! to see how my wife will not be thought to need telling by me or Ashwell, and yet will plead that she has learnt but a month, which causes many short fallings out between us. So to my office, whither one-eyed Cooper came to see me, and I made him to show me the use of platts, and to understand the lines, and how to find how lands bear, &c., to my great content.
Then came Mr. Barrow, storekeeper of Chatham, who tells me many things, how basely Sir W. Batten has carried himself to him, and in all things else like a passionate dotard, to the King’s great wrong. God mend all, for I am sure we are but in an ill condition in the Navy, however the King is served in other places.
Home to supper, to cards, and to bed.
after mirth went away
I practiced my falling
one-eyed I understand lines
and how to howl
a keeper of any and all
thin places
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 13 May 1663.
Better late
Up between four and five, and after dressing myself then to my office to prepare business against the afternoon, where all the morning, and dined at noon at home, where a little angry with my wife for minding nothing now but the dancing-master, having him come twice a day, which is a folly.
Again, to my office. We sat till late, our chief business being the reconciling the business of the pieces of eight mentioned yesterday before the Duke of York, wherein I have got the day, and they are all brought over to what I said, of which I am proud.
Late writing letters, and so home to supper and to bed. Here I found Creed staying for me, and so after supper I staid him all night and lay with me, our great discourse being the folly of our two doting knights, of which I am ashamed.
I dress myself for minding
nothing now
pieces of yesterday
are all over
what I am late in let me
stay up all night with
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 12 May 1663.
Ars Liberalis
~ for Drew
A train of thought might begin with overheard
conversation— for instance, on the next thing
in a line of recent decisions over which we
were not consulted, though these will have
a bearing on everything we're expected to do.
Then a colleague posts about getting to this
point in the semester and how it's been a journey
as it's always been, but somehow, each time gets
more lackluster. Lackluster, meaning a lack of shine,
a surface polished only by thoughtless repetition,
a dulling from slipshod use rather than intention.
Jaques uses the word in "All the World's a Stage,"
the same play that gave us gems like Sweet
are the uses of adversity. A fool's wisdom,
perhaps. And so he plays his part. To look
upon the hour as mere trial, the next car
on the train as just another clone of this one—
wheels on the rails and rumbling into the dingy
station because there's a schedule, and schedules
must be met or someone pays the price.
Now we toil in halls grown airless as balloons
from which the last bit of helium has been
extracted for a profit we'll never see.
Professing beauty and humanity in a time
distracted by speed and efficiency, stubbornly
we practice our own fools' wisdom, sit shoulder
to shoulder in a train lurching forward, ever forward.
Barker
Up betimes, and by water to Woolwich on board the Royall James, to see in what dispatch she is to be carried about to Chatham. So to the yard a little, and thence on foot to Greenwich, where going I was set upon by a great dogg, who got hold of my garters, and might have done me hurt; but, Lord, to see in what a maze I was, that, having a sword about me, I never thought of it, or had the heart to make use of it, but might, for want of that courage, have been worried.
Took water there and home, and both coming and going did con my lesson on my Ruler to measure timber, which I think I can well undertake now to do.
At home there being Pembleton I danced, and I think shall come on to do something in a little time, and after dinner by coach with Sir W. Pen (setting down his daughter at Clerkenwell), to St. James’s, where we attended the Duke of York: and, among other things, Sir G. Carteret and I had a great dispute about the different value of the pieces of eight rated by Mr. Creed at 4s. and 5d., and by Pitts at 4s. and 9d., which was the greatest husbandry to the King? he persisting that the greatest sum was; which is as ridiculous a piece of ignorance as could be imagined. However, it is to be argued at the Board, and reported to the Duke next week; which I shall do with advantage, I hope.
Thence to the Tangier Committee, where we should have concluded in sending Captain Cuttance and the rest to Tangier to deliberate upon the design of the Mole before they begin to work upon it, but there being not a committee (my Lord intending to be there but was taken up at my Lady Castlemayne’s) I parted and went homeward, after a little discourse with Mr. Pierce the surgeon, who tells me that my Lady Castlemaine hath now got lodgings near the King’s chamber at Court; and that the other day Dr. Clerke and he did dissect two bodies, a man and a woman; before the King, with which the King was highly pleased.
By water and called upon Tom Trice by appointment with Dr. Williams, but the Dr. did not come, it seems by T. Trice’s desire, not thinking he should be at leisure. However, in general we talked of our business, and I do not find that he will come to any lower terms than 150l., which I think I shall not give him but by law, and so we parted, and I called upon Mr. Crumlum, and did give him the 10s. remaining, not laid out of the 5l. I promised him for the school, with which he will buy strings, and golden letters upon the books I did give them. I sat with him and his wife a great while talking, and she is [a] pretty woman, never yet with child, and methinks looks as if her mouth watered now and then upon some of her boys.
Then upon Tom Pepys, the Turner, desiring his father and his letter to Piggott signifying his consent to the selling of his land for the paying of us his money, and so home, and finding Pembleton there we did dance till it was late, and so to supper and to bed.
a dog who got hold
of one word worried it
into another thing which was
the greatest piece of ignorance
a committee to deliberate upon
the design of a committee
bodies laid out
in a golden mouth
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 11 May 1663.
Souls on Board
Dark oceans across which people are ferried
into captivity— five hundred faces blued
by water pierced by moonlight,
pieced together to form a vessel measuring
twenty-four feet
Even then the sea understands how many
could be lost at once to fire
or storms, in this way becoming souls
Out west, on a runway, a person jumps a fence
and walks directly in the path of Flight 4345
Air traffic control repeats the phrase
for rescuers to confirm the number of people
who might need removal or extraction
The grammar of archives, of our accounting—
more than just the language of the incident report
Dalamhati— grief of the deepest kind,
from the Malay root for interior, something seated
in the liver or the heart
Sorrow as more than affliction, because lodged
in the body
Poetry Blog Digest 2026, Week 19
A personal selection of posts from around the Anglophone blogosphere, including Substack, with a commitment to following a somewhat haphazardly chosen selection of poets, poetry lovers, literary critics and publishers over time. Although I tend to quote my favorite bits, please do click through and read the whole posts. You can also browse the blog digest archive at Via Negativa or, if you’d like it in your inbox, subscribe on Substack (where the posts might be truncated by some email providers).
This week: speech bubbles, egoistic namby-pambyness, the staid denizens of heaven, a rainbow in a storm, and much more. Enjoy.
Continue reading “Poetry Blog Digest 2026, Week 19”
