Silenced

Sam Pepys and me

Up by four o’clock, and so to my office; but before I went out, calling, as I have of late done, for my boy’s copybook, I found that he had not done his task; so I beat him, and then went up to fetch my rope’s end, but before I got down the boy was gone. I searched the cellar with a candle, and from top to bottom could not find him high nor low. So to the office; and after an hour or two, by water to the Temple, to my cozen Roger; who, I perceive, is a deadly high man in the Parliament business, and against the Court, showing me how they have computed that the King hath spent, at least hath received, about four millions of money since he came in.
And in Sir J. Winter’s case, in which I spoke to him, he is so high that he says he deserves to be hanged, and all the high words he could give, which I was sorry to see, though I am confident he means well.
Thence by water home, and to the ‘Change; and by and by comes the King and the Queen by in great state, and the streets full of people. I stood in Mr.————’s balcone. They dine all at my Lord Mayor’s; but what he do for victuals, or room for them, I know not.
So home to dinner alone, and there I found that my boy had got out of doors, and came in for his hat and band, and so is gone away to his brother; but I do resolve even to let him go away for good and all.
So I by and by to the office, and there had a great fray with Sir W. Batten and Sir J. Minnes, who, like an old dotard, is led by the nose by him. It was in Captain Cocke’s business of hemp, wherein the King is absolutely abused; but I was for peace sake contented to be quiet and to sign to his bill, but in my manner so as to justify myself, and so all was well; but to see what a knave Sir W. Batten is makes my heart ake. So late at my office, and then home to supper and to bed, my man Will not being well.

one had one task
at the rope’s end

search the cellar
and find a temple
to a dead man

out of words
out of doors

and so like an old cock
I was quiet


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 23 June 1663.

It was

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
the idea of endless reinvention. Put on a ruffled
collar and hose in the morning, then at noon
rip that costume off. By evening, shack up
with yourself in a citadel of your own choosing
and decide you've had it with public life. The forms
of one's solitude are always works in progress.
Which is why you try. You can only try. Life, as anyone
can confirm, is a noose only as tight or as comfortable
as you make it. Its other name is obsession. The scientist
walked through the cold streets at night back to the lab.
With the lamps unlit, she saw shelves of gleaming beakers,
particles unearthed from pitchblende. The hems
of her skirts were lined with them. The pages of her
notebooks. A lifetime of following the trail they made.

Illiterati

Sam Pepys and me

Up betimes and to my office, reading over all our letters of the office that we have wrote since I came into the Navy, whereby to bring the whole series of matters into my memory, and to enter in my manuscript some of them that are needful and of great influence. By and by with Sir W. Batten by coach to Westminster, where all along I find the shops evening with the sides of the houses, even in the broadest streets; which will make the City very much better than it was.
I walked in the Hall from one man to another. Hear that the House is still divided about the manner of levying the subsidys which they intend to give the King, both as to the manner, the time, and the number.
It seems the House do consent to send to the King to desire that he would be graciously pleased to let them know who it was that did inform him of what words Sir Richard Temple should say, which were to this purpose: “That if the King would side with him, or be guided by him and his party, that he should not lack money:” but without knowing who told it, they do not think fit to call him to any account for it.
Thence with Creed and bought a lobster, and then to an alehouse, where the maid of the house is a confident merry lass, and if modest is very pleasant to the customers that come thither. Here we eat it, and thence to walk in the Park a good while. The Duke being gone a-hunting, and by and by came in and shifted himself; he having in his hunting, rather than go about, ‘light and led his horse through a river up to his breast, and came so home: and when we were come, which was by and by, we went on to him, and being ready he retired with us, and we had a long discourse with him. But Mr. Creed’s accounts stick still through the perverse ignorance of Sir G. Carteret, which I cannot safely control as I would.
Thence to the Park again, and there walked up and down an hour or two till night with Creed, talking, who is so knowing, and a man of that reason, that I cannot but love his company, though I do not love the man, because he is too wise to be made a friend of, and acts all by interest and policy, but is a man fit to learn of. So to White Hall, and by water to the Temple, and calling at my brothers and several places, but to no purpose, I came home, and meeting Strutt, the purser, he tells me for a secret that he was told by Field that he had a judgment against me in the Exchequer for 400l. So I went to Sir W. Batten, and taking Mr. Batten, his son the counsellor, with me, by coach, I went to Clerke, our Solicitor, who tells me there can be no such thing, and after conferring with them two together, who are resolved to look well after the business, I returned home and to my office, setting down this day’s passages, and having a letter that all is well in the country I went home to supper, and then a Latin chapter of Will and to bed.

in letters
who matters

some are of great influence
with the sides of houses
make the city fit to read

and through verse
ignorance can safely wing it

others in secret
turn passages
into a chapter


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 22 June 1663.

Poetry Blog Digest 2026, Week 25

Poetry Blogging Network

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).

Thus week: Tranströmer’s ten thousand insect wings, the high shriek of a nightjar, moving at summer’s pace, an animal made of departure, and much more. Enjoy.

Continue reading “Poetry Blog Digest 2026, Week 25”

It was

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
the heat. You can always blame the heat. Or
algae in the water. The finger that the crook
may or may not have touched to the surface
of the soup. The low quality of the paint. Or
the adhesive. Or the impatience of the crew
tasked to make everything work just so. It was
the early self-congratulation. Followed by this
cascade of blame. It was the rockets in the sky,
the heat signals they sought, the silence of crickets
in the field. Every day it was going to be the end.
Or just another version of the end. The sun went
to our heads until our heads exploded. It was a pool
that mirrored nothing but dross. Not even the relief
of a dagger buried in its poisoned heart.


Missionary

Sam Pepys and me

(Lord’s day). Up betimes, and fell to reading my Latin grammar, which I perceive I have great need of, having lately found it by my calling Will to the reading of a chapter in Latin, and I am resolved to go through it.
After being trimmed, I by water to White Hall, and so over the Park, it raining hard, to Mr. Coventry’s chamber, where I spent two hours with him about business of the Navy, and how by his absence things are like to go with us, and with good content from my being with him he carried me by coach and set me down at Whitehall, and thence to right home by water.
He shewed me a list, which he hath prepared for the Parliament’s view, if the business of his selling of offices should be brought to further hearing, wherein he reckons up, as I remember, 236 offices of ships which have been disposed of without his taking one farthing. This, of his own accord, he opened his cabinet on purpose to shew me, meaning, I suppose, that I should discourse abroad of it, and vindicate him therein, which I shall with all my power do.
At home, being wet, shifted my band and things, and then to dinner, and after dinner went up and tried a little upon my tryangle, which I understand fully, and with a little use I believe could bring myself to do something.
So to church, and slept all the sermon, the Scot, to whose voice I am not to be reconciled, preaching.
Thence with Sir J. Minnes (who poor man had forgot that he carried me the other day to the painter’s to see some pictures which he has since bought and are brought home) to his lodgings to see some base things he calls them of great masters of painting. So I said nothing that he had shown me them already, but commended them, and I think they are indeed good enough.
Thence to see Sir W. Pen, who continues ill of the gout still. Here we staid a good while, and then I to my office, and read my vows seriously and with content, and so home to supper, to prayers, and to bed.

I have found
my calling
in the rain

that broad wet voice
reaching things
as they are


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 21 June 1663.

It was

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
the given, the background to our nature. Born/

with all our grief/ already in us, like teeth
. But teeth,

when they give you trouble—you go to the dentist.

Sit in the chair, open your mouth, submit to the sickle 

probe and the scaler, the drill and suction device. Grief 

lodges somewhere deeper than the gum, deeper than

a root canal procedure could numb then clean out

the damaged interior. The very young new dentist

is astonished. She says, You have quite a lot of dental work, 

the same way one might say Do you not brush your teeth, 

don't you have insurance?
And you wonder if grief and pain 

have somehow been miraculously eradicated while you 

slept. You do—you do the hygiene, the irrigation, even

knowing all this was there before you even started.






~ after Kevin Young, "Underworld (Circle Three),"
Night Watch

Integral

Sam Pepys and me

Up and to my office, where all the morning, and dined at home, Mr. Deane, of Woolwich, with me, and he and I all the afternoon down by water, and in a timber yard, measuring of timber, which I now understand thoroughly, and shall be able in a little time to do the King great service.
Home in the evening, and after Will’s reading a little in the Latin Testament, to bed.

in a home
the timber

in timber
time

in a will
the testament


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 20 June 1663.

It was

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
a parade of ships, passing yearly through Thimble 
Shoals and the Chesapeake, into the downtown
harbor. It was the unfurled romance of barques,
wooden-hulled sloops and schooners— the Gloria,
Vela, Esmeralda, Oosterschelde. When and If, Patton’s
dream to sail around the world when the war was over,
and if he lived through it. A solemn choir of brown
pelicans watches from the docks, their own six-
foot sails folded. In the 1500s, Magellan's fleet
took a year and a half to reach the Philippines
from Spain. Container ships from Shanghai arrive
at the port terminal in just over a month. The pelican
dives from 60 feet in the air to spear a fish. It tilts
its head a little sideways, then swallows it whole.

Heard in a seashell

Sam Pepys and me

Lay till 6 o’clock, and then up and to my office, where all the morning, and at noon to the Exchange, and coming home met Mr. Creed, and took him back, and he dined with me, and by and by came Mr. Moore, whom I supplied with 30l., and then abroad with them by water to Lambeth, expecting to have seen the Archbishop lie in state; but it seems he is not laid out yet. And so over to White Hall, and at the Privy Seal Office examined the books, and found the grant of increase of salary to the principall officers in the year 1639, 300l. among the Controller, Surveyor, and Clerk of the Shippes. Thence to Wilkinson’s after a good walk in the Park, where we met on horseback Captain Ferrers; who tells us that the King of France is well again, and that he saw him train his Guards, all brave men, at Paris; and that when he goes to his mistress, Madame la Valiere, a pretty little woman, now with child by him, he goes with his guards with him publiquely, and his trumpets and kettle-drums with him, who stay before the house while he is with her; and yet he says that, for all this, the Queen do not know of it, for that nobody dares to tell her; but that I dare not believe. Thence I to Wilkinson’s, where we had bespoke a dish of pease, where we eat them very merrily, and there being with us the little gentleman, a friend of Captain Ferrers, that was with my wife and I at a play a little while ago, we went thence to the Rhenish wine-house, where we called for a red Rhenish wine called Bleahard, a pretty wine, and not mixed, as they say.
Here Mr. Moore showed us the French manner, when a health is drunk, to bow to him that drunk to you, and then apply yourself to him, whose lady’s health is drunk, and then to the person that you drink to, which I never knew before; but it seems it is now the fashion.
Thence by water home and to bed, having played out of my chamber window on my pipe before I went to bed, and making Will read a part of a Latin chapter, in which I perceive in a little while he will be pretty ready, if he spends but a little pains in it.

I have seen the sea
the ships go on

a child with his trumpet
who says NO

nobody to believe
or bow to but
the wind


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 19 June 1663.