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Posted on by Dave Bonta

Asymmetry

And then up and home, and there dressed myself, and by appointment to Deptford, to Sir G. Carteret’s, between six and seven o’clock, where I found him and my Lady almost ready, and by and by went over to the ferry, and took coach and six horses nobly for Dagenhams, himself and lady and their little daughter, Louisonne, and myself in the coach; where, when we come, we were bravely entertained and spent the day most pleasantly with the young ladies, and I so merry as never more. Only for want of sleep, and drinking of strong beer had a rheum in one of my eyes, which troubled me much. Here with great content all the day, as I think I ever passed a day in my life, because of the contentfulnesse of our errand, and the noblenesse of the company and our manner of going. But I find Mr. Carteret yet as backward almost in his caresses, as he was the first day. At night, about seven o’clock, took coach again; but, Lord! to see in what a pleasant humour Sir G. Carteret hath been both coming and going; so light, so fond, so merry, so boyish (so much content he takes in this business), it is one of the greatest wonders I ever saw in my mind. But once in serious discourse he did say that, if he knew his son to be a debauchee, as many and, most are now-a-days about the Court, he would tell it, and my Lady Jem. should not have him; and so enlarged both he and she about the baseness and looseness of the Court, and told several stories of the Duke of Monmouth, and Richmond, and some great person, my Lord of Ormond’s second son, married to a lady of extraordinary quality (fit and that might have been made a wife for the King himself), about six months since, that this great person hath given the pox to ———; and discoursed how much this would oblige the Kingdom if the King would banish some of these great persons publiquely from the Court, and wished it with all their hearts.
We set out so late that it grew dark, so as we doubted the losing of our way; and a long time it was, or seemed, before we could get to the water-side, and that about eleven at night, where, when we come, all merry (only my eye troubled me, as I said), we found no ferryboat was there, nor no oares to carry us to Deptford. However, afterwards oares was called from the other side at Greenwich; but, when it come, a frolique, being mighty merry, took us, and there we would sleep all night in the coach in the Isle of Doggs. So we did, there being now with us my Lady Scott, and with great pleasure drew up the glasses, and slept till daylight, and then some victuals and wine being brought us, we ate a bit, and so up and took boat, merry as might be; and when come to Sir G. Carteret’s, there all to bed.

in one of my eyes the greatest wonders
and in the other sleep

so with sure glasses
light might be art


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 24 July 1665.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Alienation

(Lord’s day). Up very betimes, called by Mr. Cutler, by appointment, and with him in his coach and four horses over London Bridge to Kingston, a very pleasant journey, and at Hampton Court by nine o’clock, and in our way very good and various discourse, as he is a man, that though I think he be a knave, as the world thinks him, yet a man of great experience and worthy to be heard discourse. When we come there, we to Sir W. Coventry’s chamber, and there discoursed long with him, he and I alone, the others being gone away, and so walked together through the garden to the house, where we parted, I observing with a little trouble that he is too great now to expect too much familiarity with, and I find he do not mind me as he used to do, but when I reflect upon him and his business I cannot think much of it, for I do not observe anything but the same great kindness from him. I followed the King to chappell, and there hear a good sermon; and after sermon with my Lord Arlington, Sir Thomas Ingram and others, spoke to the Duke about Tangier, but not to much purpose. I was not invited any whither to dinner, though a stranger, which did also trouble me; but yet I must remember it is a Court, and indeed where most are strangers; but, however, Cutler carried me to Mr. Marriott’s the house-keeper, and there we had a very good dinner and good company, among others Lilly, the painter.
Thence to the councill-chamber, where in a back room I sat all the afternoon, but the councill begun late to sit, and spent most of the time upon Morisco’s Tarr businesse. They sat long, and I forced to follow Sir Thomas Ingram, the Duke, and others, so that when I got free and come to look for Cutler, he was gone with his coach, without leaving any word with any body to tell me so; so that I was forced with great trouble to walk up and down looking of him, and at last forced to get a boat to carry me to Kingston, and there, after eating a bit at a neat inne, which pleased me well, I took boat, and slept all the way, without intermission, from thence to Queenhive, where, it being about two o’clock, too late and too soon to go home to bed, I lay and slept till about four…

being a stranger
where most are strangers
body in a boat


Erasure haiku derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 23 July 1665.

Posted on by Luisa A. Igloria

I was leading a workshop

that summer, on elegies and the poetry
of death. Perhaps it shouldn’t have come
as a surprise, yet I found I was surprised
—long-dead neighbors arrived and smilingly
took their places among others at the table.
They shuffled papers from folders, set out
their pens neatly on one side; some
began clearing their throats in a way
that sounded like they might not have
done that in a while. On the right,
Mr. Eduardo, who once was city engineer,
smoothed the lapels of his olive coat
and the silk square tucked neatly into
a breast pocket. And there were Nana
Doring and Tata Berting, who lived
in a brown house in the street directly
below ours. Her grey hair was like it always
was— slightly unruly but with a nice curl,
giving her an elfin look; his black-rimmed
glasses were as usual perched high on his nose,
which made him look a little like a solemn
owl. I could sense they were eager to read
poems to each other. It wasn’t cold or gloomy
at all in there: windows framed the brightness
of the season, and winding vines of orange
hummingbird trumpet flowers crept along
the ledge. I was both suddenly shy and quite
excited; then stricken with the anxiety
they would think I was such a fraud—
what did I know about death, after all?
I wanted to ask them what they thought
about all these metaphors; I wanted
to suggest a free write. At the end
of the session they came up to give hugs,
saying they enjoyed their brief time here.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Volunteer

As soon as up I among my goldsmiths, Sir Robert Viner and Colvill, and there got 10,000l. of my new tallys accepted, and so I made it my work to find out Mr. Mervin and sent for others to come with their bills of Exchange, as Captain Hewett, &c., and sent for Mr. Jackson, but he was not in town. So all the morning at the office, and after dinner, which was very late, I to Sir R. Viner’s, by his invitation in the morning, and got near 5000l. more accepted, and so from this day the whole, or near, 15,000l., lies upon interest. Thence I by water to Westminster, and the Duke of Albemarle being gone to dinner to my Lord of Canterbury’s, I thither, and there walked and viewed the new hall, a new old-fashion hall as much as possible. Begun, and means left for the ending of it, by Bishop Juxon. Not coming proper to speak with him, I to Fox-hall, where to the Spring garden; but I do not see one guest there, the town being so empty of any body to come thither. Only, while I was there, a poor woman come to scold with the master of the house that a kinswoman, I think, of hers, that was newly dead of the plague, might be buried in the church-yard; for, for her part, she should not be buried in the commons, as they said she should.
Back to White Hall, and by and by comes the Duke of Albemarle, and there, after a little discourse, I by coach home, not meeting with but two coaches, and but two carts from White Hall to my own house, that I could observe; and the streets mighty thin of people.
I met this noon with Dr. Burnett, who told me, and I find in the newsbook this week that he posted upon the ‘Change, that whoever did spread the report that, instead of the plague, his servant was by him killed, it was forgery, and shewed me the acknowledgment of the master of the pest-house, that his servant died of a bubo on his right groine, and two spots on his right thigh, which is the plague.
To my office, where late writing letters, and getting myself prepared with business for Hampton Court to-morrow, and so having caused a good pullet to be got for my supper, all alone, I very late to bed.
All the news is great: that we must of necessity fall out with France, for He will side with the Dutch against us. That Alderman Backewell is gone over (which indeed he is) with money, and that Ostend is in our present possession. But it is strange to see how poor Alderman Backewell is like to be put to it in his absence, Mr. Shaw his right hand being ill. And the Alderman’s absence gives doubts to people, and I perceive they are in great straits for money, besides what Sir G. Carteret told me about fourteen days ago.
Our fleet under my Lord Sandwich being about the latitude 55 (which is a great secret) to the Northward of the Texell.
So to bed very late. In my way I called upon Sir W. Turner, and at Mr. Shelcrosse’s (but he was not at home, having left his bill with Sir W. Turner), that so I may prove I did what I could as soon as I had money to answer all bills.

bury me in the spring garden
empty me of use and art
and people me with plague

for all the news is that we must go to war
so I may prove I did
what I could


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 22 July 1665.

Posted on by Luisa A. Igloria

It’s hard not to know what could happen

In Chicago, my mother-in-law is transferred
to a hospital room, waiting for updates

from doctors after two surgeries just days
apart— the first, an incision in the neck

to open the artery then clean out material
in the region of its narrowing; the second,

to thread a wire into a vein beneath
the collarbone then tether a pacemaker

to her heart. Where we are in the southeast,
I listen to news relayed by text and phone

as my husband and his siblings confer
in measured language on details of post-

surgical recovery. He’s told, not out
of the woods completely: how her speech

turns syllables on themselves, emerging
from under the veil of anesthesia; or how

one side of her face doesn’t seem to have
caught up with the other. When he relays

this information at the dinner table,
he doesn’t seem to notice the agitated

flutter begin in his right knee, and how
his foot drums a rapid, nervous rhythm

on the floor. He checks through the day
for additional information; and I, too,

wait for its trickle in my direction.
Of course I am thinking of her, but also,

I can’t help thinking of my own mother
on the other side of the world (who’s the same

age): how these days there’s little I know
about her daily situation, since relatives

she lives with have either changed
their phones or for whatever reason,

have been purposefully blocking my attempts
to reach her. When I was a child, she was always

saying things like What will be, will be;
or Life is short, someday we’ll have to return

it. The last time I saw her, the smallest things
often moved her to tears: Now I am old, now I live

mostly by myself; this is now my life. I wish
I could take both their hands in my own, say

something that would make sense. Then maybe we
might either cook, or go out to look at shoes.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Full fathom five

Up and abroad to the goldsmiths, to see what money I could get upon my present tallys upon the advance of the Excise, and I hope I shall get 10,000l. I went also and had them entered at the Excise Office. Alderman Backewell is at sea. Sir R. Viner come to towne but this morning. So Colvill was the only man I could yet speak withal to get any money of. Met with Mr. Povy, and I with him and dined at the Custom House Taverne, there to talk of our Tangier business, and Stockedale and Hewet with us. So abroad to several places, among others to Anthony Joyce’s, and there broke to him my desire to have Pall married to Harman, whose wife, poor woman, is lately dead, to my trouble, I loving her very much, and he will consider it.
So home and late at my chamber, setting some papers in order; the plague growing very raging, and my apprehensions of it great.
So very late to bed.

I entered the sea
only to talk to the dead
loving
raging


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 21 July 1665.

Posted on by Luisa A. Igloria

Intermittence

Time, which I am always breathing
in increments, begins to dictate

again its oldest letter: it ticks
in the ear, it mimics the voice

of an owl in the earliest hours
or hurtles against the screens,

a small, soft body fleeing the talons
of another. Through the fog of sleep,

I hear the swish of blinds being raised,
air exhaled from the tap then the rush

of water announcing its readiness
to cleave the dreams from your skin.

And yes I am powerless against its
intermittence, the constant reminder

of all it sweeps along in the motion of gears.
How easy to lose my place in the book I am

reading, my count in a row of knitting. But I
can’t bear yet the thought of us as letters

others will read after we’e gone. Rain falls
all week, all night; and I want to tell you

about the blue umbrella I opened when I
stepped out: how a gradient of holes

possibly made by the sharp ends of each
metal runner looked like notches

on the face of a clock: tiny, yet
enough to admit both light and rain.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Drinkers

Up, in a boat among other people to the Tower, and there to the office, where we sat all the morning. So down to Deptford and there dined, and after dinner saw my Lady Sandwich and Mr. Carteret and his two sisters over the water, going to Dagenhams, and my Lady Carteret towards Cranburne. So all the company broke up in most extraordinary joy, wherein I am mighty contented that I have had the good fortune to be so instrumental, and I think it will be of good use to me. So walked to Redriffe, where I hear the sickness is, and indeed is scattered almost every where, there dying 1089 of the plague this week. My Lady Carteret did this day give me a bottle of plague-water home with me. So home to write letters late, and then home to bed, where I have not lain these 3 or 4 nights. I received yesterday a letter from my Lord Sandwich, giving me thanks for my care about their marriage business, and desiring it to be dispatched, that no disappointment may happen therein, which I will help on all I can. This afternoon I waited on the Duke of Albemarle, and so to Mrs. Croft’s, where I found and saluted Mrs. Burrows, who is a very pretty woman for a mother of so many children. But, Lord! to see how the plague spreads. It being now all over King’s Streete, at the Axe, and next door to it, and in other places.

we all burn in tune
instrumental
to every dying bottle
where I have my croft
where I burrow in


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 20 July 1665.

Posted on by Luisa A. Igloria

Waiting

How much time now have you spent
waiting: for someone to respond

to the urgent letter; for the missing
heirloom to turn up wrapped in a piece
of clothing. For someone to finally

mend the sagging fence, for the phone
to ring. It’s difficult to study or nap

or eat a healthy salad or even get
distracted by TV or books— You go
to the grocery store and stand

in the middle of islands of summer
fruit and vegetables, but your thoughts

are elsewhere. In the yard, some insect
has started to chew on a leaf that’s barely
pushed its green out of the soil. You

want to say Who are you and why
don’t you give the poor thing a chance?
You’re tempted to sit by the terra cotta pot

and wait for the culprit to rear its slimy head.
But the mornings are always a room across which

the sun’s shadow is so rapidly passing
to remind you of time. You don’t know when
to begin unfastening your heart from the hours,

you don’t know how to gather its trembling
flowers to put in a vase at the bedside

of the one in pain— the one waking up
from being cut open by a scalpel; or the one
far away in a country of terrible, unceasing rain.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Bullet point

Up and to the office, and thence presently to the Exchequer, and there with much trouble got my tallys, and afterwards took Mr. Falconer, Spicer, and another or two to the Leg and there give them a dinner, and so with my tallys and about 30 dozen of bags, which it seems are my due, having paid the fees as if I had received the money I away home, and after a little stay down by water to Deptford, where I find all full of joy, and preparing to go to Dagenhams to-morrow. To supper, and after supper to talk without end. Very late I went away, it raining, but I had a design ‘pour aller a la femme de Bagwell‘ and did so, mais ne savais obtener algun cosa de ella como jo quisiere sino tocar la. So away about 12, and it raining hard I back to Sir G. Carteret and there called up the page, and to bed there, being all in a most violent sweat.

the war took another
which seems my due

as if the rain had
a design in raining


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 19 July 1665.