Messiah complex

Sam Pepys and me

Among my workmen this morning. By and by by water to Westminster with Commissioner Pett (landing my wife at Black Friars) where I hear the prisoners in the Tower that are to die are come to the Parliament–house this morning.
To the Wardrobe to dinner with my Lady; where a civitt cat, parrot, apes, and many other things are come from my Lord by Captain Hill, who dined with my Lady with us to-day. Thence to the Paynter’s, and am well pleased with our pictures. So by coach home, where I found the joyners putting up my chimney-piece in the dining-room, which pleases me well, only the frame for a picture they have made so massy and heavy that I cannot tell what to do with it.
This evening came my she cozen Porter to see us (the first time that we had seen her since we came to this end of the town) and after her Mr. Hunt, who both staid with us a pretty while and so went away.
By and by, hearing that Mr. Turner was much troubled at what I do in the office, and do give ill words to Sir W. Pen and others of me, I am much troubled in my mind, and so went to bed; not that I fear him at all, but the natural aptness I have to be troubled at any thing that crosses me.

I and thou
my parrot Lord

our joy so heavy
I cannot tell

what to do
with what I do

my natural aptness
to any cross


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 7 February 1661/62.

Letter to the Thing that Marks Time in my Chest

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
Dear intermittent constriction beneath the left
side of my ribcage, sometimes you feel bird-
like, and sometimes like a fish in a transparent
bowl. Sometimes you have the gloss of a ripe
summer cherry. Sometimes I detect a rough
orange flash, a fin flailing without direction,
a poorly painted sunset over a broken reef.
Sometimes I wonder if I'd ever have
the courage to put you under— pull
the drapes, slide you into an envelope
and send it away with no return address.
But at the same time, I don't know
where to send you, or what I'd do
in the silence you'd leave behind.

Spidery

Sam Pepys and me

At my musique practice, and so into my cellar to my workmen, and I am very much pleased with my alteracon there.
About noon comes my uncle Thomas to me to ask for his annuity, and I did tell him my mind freely. We had some high words, but I was willing to end all in peace, and so I made him dine with me, and I have hopes to work my end upon him. After dinner the barber trimmed me, and so to the office, where I do begin to be exact in my duty there and exacting my privileges, and shall continue to do so.
None but Sir W. Batten and me here to-night, and so we broke up early, and I home and to my chamber to put things in order, and so to bed. My swelling I think do begin to go away again.

music in my cellar
my work on words

exact and exacting
all in one web


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 6 February 1661/62.

Holds Also Hope

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
       Think back to the day you received the phone 
call when ___ was brought to the hospital. What
was the color of the sky before that moment
and then immediately after? Where did the smell
of smoke come from and why couldn't you
get rid of it for days? And think back a season
before, when snow had not yet covered
the ground: the hinge of the box was folded
shut; its cadre of shapeshifting griefs
still lay inside, either quietly or harnessed
to unknown purposes. You must try hard
to remember in any aftermath, even these
once had bones wanting to become flesh,
wanting to be named, called to, forgiven.

Ritual of Crying Wolf

iron storm grate with a pattern like a Medieval shield and the word STORM at the center
This entry is part 9 of 11 in the series Rituals

iron storm grate with a pattern like a Medieval shield and the word STORM at the center

wolf down a dog’s
breakfast of hype

cry in unison
use every lost key

feed the feedback
pierce some eardrums

that’s how unutterable
this wolf is

hold haters in contempt
be holocaustic

inspire fear
freeze in the headlights

disbelieve that anyone might choose
the actual wolf

Clerk

Sam Pepys and me

Early at the office. Sir G. Carteret, the two Sir Williams and myself all alone reading of the Duke’s institutions for the settlement of our office, whereof we read as much as concerns our own duties, and left the other officers for another time. I did move several things for my purpose, and did ease my mind.
At noon Sir W. Pen dined with me, and after dinner he and I and my wife to the Theatre, and went in, but being very early we went out again to the next door, and drank some Rhenish wine and sugar, and so to the House again, and there saw “Rule a Wife and have a Wife” very well done. And here also I did look long upon my Lady Castlemaine, who, notwithstanding her late sickness, continues a great beauty.
Home and supped with Sir W. Pen and played at cards with him, and so home and to bed, putting some cataplasm to my testicle which begins to swell again.

at the office alone
I move my pen
in the heat

again and again
I have a look
at my testicle


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 5 February 1661/62.

Existential

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
The interviewer asked: if you could, 
would you do it, what one thing would it be
that you might change? This is never a fair
question, because of course you know you can't.

You won't ever fit again into that size 8
sheath dress, so give it away. You won't
have gone into that other degree program;
you won't have managed to avert one

stupid decision or another. A thought
experiment is only as good as the score
you expect to get after the exam; and
as you've come to know, expectation

is a false prophet, a bad tarot card
reader who can't tell a cup from a can
of soup or a fool from his shadow.
Everywhere, someone wants a new

beginning. And everywhere, someone
wants something to end. In Long Island,
a hundred thousand ducks were recently
euthanized because of avian flu. Red-

breasted and common mergansers are washing up
dead on Lake Michigan shores. How do you rewind
to the particular moment before the needle went
haywire, before plagues were incredible stories

from a different century? You tell her you wouldn't
change a thing, though looking at what you've already
lived through from where you are now, it's like you
get to feel it all: all over again, a second time.