Via Negativa

January 18, 2024January 11, 2025 by Dave Bonta

January Blues

shadows on the snow
stretched out as if in prayer

the sound made by a spring
as ice smothers it

news that breaks and breaks
on slow snowshoes left right

here the urgent leaps
of a white-footed mouse

there a coyote pair
taking turns breaking trail

squirrels in heat
their labyrinthine urges

skeletal feathers of frost
where a vole is breathing

all just uphill from the interstate
a thing shown on maps

and a town in the mountains
taken over by mountains of snow

in every parking lot
another white peak

the pigeons rise
become a flock of rock doves

revolving in the blue
like a stuck tire

January 18, 2024May 9, 2024 by Luisa A. Igloria

Heart Paper Ghazal

river in November light between bare woods and mountain

I can't remember the name of the girl in high school who tried
to convince us to smoke by saying "It's just like inhaling paper."

After school, we'd walk to Session Road and try to get into Gingerbread
Folkhouse, where college kids drank beer and passed around rolling papers.

A group would sit around in their denim bell-bottoms, strumming
guitars, puffing smoke rings, writing editorials for the newspaper.

We were all young and green, naive to the world. Some pretended
to turn up their noses at fashion magazines with glossy paper.

Apparently one could not be trusted to be loyal to the cause if one
harbored bourgeois aspirations: heavy stock stationery paper,

bread and cheese; art, movies, poetry that cared about the strength
and beauty of language besides the violence we read about in the papers.

These days, no one is spared, no one set apart from the cruelties of human
hate. I try to keep my heart open despite heartrending news in the papers.

January 17, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Up, and breakfast with my Lady. Then come Captains Cuttance and Blake to carry her in the barge on board; and so we went through Ham Creeke to the Soverayne (a goodly sight all the way to see the brave ships that lie here) first, which is a most noble ship. I never saw her before. My Lady Sandwich, my Lady Jemimah, Mrs. Browne, Mrs. Grace, and Mary and the page, my lady’s servants and myself, all went into the lanthorn together. From thence to the Charles, where my lady took great pleasure to see all the rooms, and to hear me tell her how things are when my Lord is there. After we had seen all, then the officers of the ship had prepared a handsome breakfast for her, and while she was pledging my Lord’s health they give her five guns. That done, we went off, and then they give us thirteen guns more. I confess it was a great pleasure to myself to see the ship that I begun my good fortune in. From thence on board the Newcastle, to show my Lady the difference between a great and a small ship. Among these ships I did give away 7l.. So back again and went on shore at Chatham, where I had ordered the coach to wait for us. Here I heard that Sir William Batten and his lady (who I knew were here, and did endeavour to avoyd) were now gone this morning to London. So we took coach, and I went into the coach, and went through the town, without making stop at our inn, but left J. Goods to pay the reckoning. So I rode with my lady in the coach, and the page on the horse that I should have rid on — he desiring it. It begun to be dark before we could come to Dartford, and to rain hard, and the horses to fayle, which was our great care to prevent, for fear of my Lord’s displeasure, so here we sat up for to-night, as also Captains Cuttance and Blake, who came along with us. We sat and talked till supper, and at supper my Lady and I entered into a great dispute concerning what were best for a man to do with his estate — whether to make his elder son heir, which my Lady is for, and I against, but rather to make all equall. This discourse took us much time, till it was time to go to bed; but we being merry, we bade my Lady goodnight, and intended to have gone to the Post-house to drink, and hear a pretty girl play of the cittern (and indeed we should have lain there, but by a mistake we did not), but it was late, and we could not hear her, and the guard came to examine what we were; so we returned to our Inn and to bed, the page and I in one bed, and the two captains in another, all in one chamber, where we had very good mirth with our most abominable lodging.

come into my sand castle

the difference between a great
and a small shore
is now gone
we own the dew

and the rain and the lake
talk all night

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 17 January 1660/61.

January 17, 2024January 15, 2024 by Luisa A. Igloria

Cusp

The angel is a column of light In Tanner's "Annunciation." 
 No discernible shape of wings, no halo, no raiment  

but for a sheer wash of bright yellow falling from
a skylight. Without instruction on how to read 

this alteration in the atmosphere, I'd look 
like her too. Against the rumpled linens, feet 

unshod, nails untrimmed; the clamor of the domestic 
hardly a wall away—how would you tell a story you know 

will not be believed? Everyone will say you can't shape 
a thing without touching or feeling. But how do you refuse 

being chosen, when it promises a sort of agency?
Outside, plots of flowers open in the morning and tuck 

themselves in at night, the condition of being seen equal 
to the desire for solitude and the sound of one heartbeat.

January 16, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Zen with Whitman

This morning I went early to the Comptroller’s and so with him by coach to Whitehall, to wait upon Mr. Coventry to give him an account of what we have done, which having done, I went away to wait upon my Lady; but coming to her lodgings I find that she is gone this morning to Chatham by coach, thinking to meet me there, which did trouble me exceedingly, and I did not know what to do, being loth to follow her, and yet could not imagine what she would do when she found me not there. In this trouble, I went to take a walk in Westminster Hall and by chance met with Mr. Child, who went forth with my Lady to-day, but his horse being bad, he come back again, which then did trouble me more, so that I did resolve to go to her; and so by boat home and put on my boots, and so over to Southwarke to the posthouse, and there took horse and guide to Dartford and thence to Rochester (I having good horses and good way, come thither about half-an-hour after daylight, which was before 6 o’clock and I set forth after two), where I found my Lady and her daughter Jem., and Mrs. Browne and five servants, all at a great loss, not finding me here, but at my coming she was overjoyed. The sport was how she had intended to have kept herself unknown, and how the Captain (whom she had sent for) of the Charles had forsoothed her, though he knew her well and she him. In fine we supped merry and so to bed, there coming several of the Charles’s men to see me before, I got to bed. The page lay with me.

what I find
is what I imagine

what would a child
who went forth find

how to unknow
how to see the page

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 16 January 1660/61.

January 15, 2024January 17, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Poetry Blog Digest 2024, Week 2

A personal selection of posts from the Poetry Blogging Network and beyond. 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, subscribe to its RSS feed in your favorite feed reader, or, if you’d like it in your inbox, subscribe on Substack.

This week, poets were visionary, resolute, hunkering down, easing back into the grind. Some evinced minds of winter, while others dreamed of warmer times and climes. Enjoy.

January 15, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Re/vision

Up and down the yard all the morning and seeing the seamen exercise, which they do already very handsomely.
Then to dinner at Mr. Ackworth’s, where there also dined with us one Captain Bethell, a friend of the Comptroller’s. A good dinner and very handsome. After that and taking our leaves of the officers of the yard, we walked to the waterside and in our way walked into the rope-yard, where I do look into the tar-houses and other places, and took great notice of all the several works belonging to the making of a cable.
So after a cup of burnt wine at the tavern there, we took barge and went to Blackwall and viewed the dock and the new Wet dock, which is newly made there, and a brave new merchantman which is to be launched shortly, and they say to be called the Royal Oak.
Hence we walked to Dick-Shore, and thence to the Towre and so home. Where I found my wife and Pall abroad, so I went to see Sir W. Pen, and there found Mr. Coventry come to see him, and now had an opportunity to thank him, and he did express much kindness to me. I sat a great while with Sir Wm. after he was gone, and had much talk with him. I perceive none of our officers care much for one another, but I do keep in with them all as much as I can. Sir W. Pen is still very ill as when I went. Home, where my wife not yet come home, so I went up to put my papers in order, and then was much troubled my wife was not come, it being 10 o’clock just now striking as I write this last line.
This day I hear the Princess is recovered again. The King hath been this afternoon at Deptford, to see the yacht that Commissioner Pett is building, which will be very pretty; as also that that his brother at Woolwich is in making.
By and by comes in my boy and tells me that his mistress do lie this night at Mrs. Hunt’s, who is very ill, with which being something satisfied, I went to bed.

seeing the sea at work
making a new shore

I press pen to paper
write this last line over again

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 15 January 1660/61.

January 15, 2024January 14, 2024 by Luisa A. Igloria

Evidence

Something about the silence 
following in the wake of a day 

of wind. Something about the moon 
that was new two days ago and now 

swells toward fullness, after which 
it starts hiding again. From the video 

doorbell, we have a recording of a swift 
flash of wing, an iridescence. A humming-

bird, darting across the porch. It is almost 
a mirage, a rumor, a dream, if not for this 

evidence. What more the small bodies
glimpsed through rubble, under skies

brutal with death and darkness at noon.
Even the smallest breaths leave a trace.

January 14, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Job 1:7

The arms being come this morning from the Tower, we caused them to be distributed. I spent much time walking with Lieutenant Lambert, walking up and down the yards, who did give me much light into things there, and so went along with me and dined with us. After dinner Mrs. Pett, her husband being gone this morning with Sir W. Batten to Chatham, lent us her coach, and carried us to Woolwich, where we did also dispose of the arms there and settle the guards. So to Mr. Pett’s, the shipwright, and there supped, where he did treat us very handsomely (and strange it is to see what neat houses all the officers of the King’s yards have), his wife a proper woman, and has been handsome, and yet has a very pretty hand.
Thence I with Mr. Ackworth to his house, where he has a very pretty house, and a very proper lovely woman to his wife, who both sat with me in my chamber, and they being gone, I went to bed, which was also most neat and fine.

I come walking walking
up and down

who am I
to settle here

to see what neat uses
all the yards have

as a pretty hand has
a pretty rope

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 14 January 1660/61.

January 14, 2024January 12, 2024 by Luisa A. Igloria

What It Takes

Can one actually die of sorrow?
I am tired, I tell my husband and children. 
So tired of the labor of the everyday, 
compounded by labors of the spirit. 
The hours roll up the dust of our time 
like a scroll, like a rug, like a badly frayed 
book cover that wants sewing. I am 
the curved needle pushing from one 
station to the next, trying my best to keep 
the signatures tightly pressed together. 
Mend and make, re-make and mend, 
so the body can keep going somehow. 
Daily I build a little shed with words; 
I'll come when called for dinner, until I can't.