At the heart hospital, I lie on the imaging
table, looking up at the bland ceiling
while the technician gets ready to slick
gel on one end of the transducer. In this
soundproofed room, we don't hear the traffic
thickening on Brambleton. But when she engages
the Doppler, waves of gray appear on the bottom
of the screen and a whooshing sound pulses near
my ear— like wind across a beach, waves coming in
and eddying around the twin islands of
my kidneys. The vascular ultrasound machine
has opened this window into my own interior
and suddenly I'm reminded of how my body can feel
spacious or cluttered in ways I forget
on a daily basis— like when I struggle with
the waistband of a pair of old jeans, or feel
the hot burn of spice travel from my mouth, down
through my esophagus. The technician tells me
to hold my breath and I do, while on the screen,
something flickers and pulses, still keeping time
in spite of me. Blue, she tells me, is the track of
blood flowing away; and red, toward the organ.
I am traveler and terrain, vessel and cargo,
the untranslatable rendered legible.
A better world
Up pretty betimes, but yet I observe how my dancing and lying a morning or two longer than ordinary for my cold do make me hard to rise as I used to do, or look after my business as I am wont.
To my chamber to make an end of my papers to my father to be sent by the post to-night, and taking copies of them, which was a great work, but I did it this morning, and so to my office, and thence with Sir John Minnes to the Tower; and by Mr. Slingsby, and Mr. Howard, Controller of the Mint, we were shown the method of making this new money, from the beginning to the end, which is so pretty that I did take a note of every part of it and set them down by themselves for my remembrance hereafter. That being done it was dinner time, and so the Controller would have us dine with him and his company, the King giving them a dinner every day. And very merry and good discourse about the business we have been upon, and after dinner went to the Assay Office and there saw the manner of assaying of gold and silver, and how silver melted down with gold do part, just being put into aqua-fortis, the silver turning into water, and the gold lying whole in the very form it was put in, mixed of gold and silver, which is a miracle; and to see no silver at all but turned into water, which they can bring again into itself out of the water.
And here I was made thoroughly to understand the business of the fineness and coarseness of metals, and have put down my lessons with my other observations therein.
At table among other discourse they told us of two cheats, the best I ever heard. One, of a labourer discovered to convey away the bits of silver cut out pence by swallowing them down into his belly, and so they could not find him out, though, of course, they searched all the labourers; but, having reason to doubt him, they did, by threats and promises, get him to confess, and did find 7l. of it in his house at one time.
The other of one that got a way of coyning money as good and passable and large as the true money is, and yet saved fifty per cent. to himself, which was by getting moulds made to stamp groats like old groats, which is done so well, and I did beg two of them which I keep for rarities, that there is not better in the world, and is as good, nay, better than those that commonly go, which was the only thing that they could find out to doubt them by, besides the number that the party do go to put off, and then coming to the Comptroller of the Mint, he could not, I say, find out any other thing to raise any doubt upon, but only their being so truly round or near it, though I should never have doubted the thing neither. He was neither hanged nor burned, the cheat was thought so ingenious, and being the first time they could ever trap him in it, and so little hurt to any man in it, the money being as good as commonly goes.
Thence to the office till the evening, we sat, and then by water (taking Pembleton with us), over the water to the Halfway House, where we played at ninepins, and there my damned jealousy took fire, he and my wife being of a side and I seeing of him take her by the hand in play, though I now believe he did [it] only in passing and sport. Thence home and being 10 o’clock was forced to land beyond the Custom House, and so walked home and to my office, and having dispatched my great letters by the post to my father, of which I keep copies to show by me and for my future understanding, I went home to supper and bed, being late.The most observables in the making of money which I observed to-day, is the steps of their doing it.
1. Before they do anything they assay the bullion, which is done, if it be gold, by taking an equal weight of that and of silver, of each a small weight, which they reckon to be six ounces or half a pound troy; this they wrap up in within lead.
If it be silver, they put such a quantity of that alone and wrap it up in lead, and then putting them into little earthen cupps made of stuff like tobacco pipes, and put them into a burning hot furnace, where, after a while, the whole body is melted, and at last the lead in both is sunk into the body of the cupp, which carries away all the copper or dross with it, and left the pure gold and silver embodyed together, of that which hath both been put into the cupp together, and the silver alone in these where it was put alone in the leaden case. And to part the silver and the gold in the first experiment, they put the mixed body into a glass of aqua-fortis, which separates them by spitting out the silver into such small parts that you cannot tell what it becomes, but turns into the very water and leaves the gold at the bottom clear of itself, with the silver wholly spit out, and yet the gold in the form that it was doubled together in when it was a mixed body of gold and silver, which is a great mystery; and after all this is done to get the silver together out of the water is as strange.
But the nature of the assay is thus: the piece of gold that goes into the furnace twelve ounces, if it comes out again eleven ounces, and the piece of silver which goes in twelve and comes out again eleven and two pennyweight, are just of the alloy of the standard of England. If it comes out, either of them, either the gold above eleven, as very fine will sometimes within very little of what it went in, or the silver above eleven and two pennyweight, as that also will sometimes come out eleven and ten penny weight or more, they are so much above the goodness of the standard, and so they know what proportion of worse gold and silver to put to such a quantity of the bullion to bring it to the exact standard. And on the contrary, [if] it comes out lighter, then such a weight is beneath the standard, and so requires such a proportion of fine metal to be put to the bullion to bring it to the standard, and this is the difference of good and bad, better and worse than the standard, and also the difference of standards, that of Seville being the best and that of Mexico worst, and I think they said none but Seville is better than ours.
2. They melt it into long plates, which, if the mould do take ayre, then the plate is not of an equal heaviness in every part of it, as it often falls out.
3. They draw these plates between rollers to bring them to an even thickness all along and every plate of the same thickness, and it is very strange how the drawing it twice easily between the rollers will make it as hot as fire, yet cannot touch it.
4. They bring it to another pair of rollers, which they call adjusting it, which bring it to a greater exactness in its thickness than the first could be.
5. They cut them into round pieces, which they do with the greatest ease, speed, and exactness in the world.
6. They weigh these, and where they find any to be too heavy they file them, which they call sizeing them; or light, they lay them by, which is very seldom, but they are of a most exact weight, but however, in the melting, all parts by some accident not being close alike, now and then a difference will be, and, this filing being done, there shall not be any imaginable difference almost between the weight of forty of these against another forty chosen by chance out of all their heaps.
7. These round pieces having been cut out of the plates, which in passing the rollers are bent, they are sometimes a little crooked or swelling out or sinking in, and therefore they have a way of clapping 100 or 2 together into an engine, which with a screw presses them so hard that they come out as flat as is possible.
8. They blanch them.
9. They mark the letters on the edges, which is kept as the great secret by Blondeau, who was not in the way, and so I did not speak with him to-day.
10. They mill them, that is, put on the marks on both sides at once with great exactness and speed, and then the money is perfect.
The mill is after this manner: one of the dyes, which has one side of the piece cut, is fastened to a thing fixed below, and the other dye (and they tell me a payre of dyes will last the marking of 10,000l. before it be worn out, they and all other their tools being made of hardened steel, and the Dutchman who makes them is an admirable artist, and has so much by the pound for every pound that is coyned to find a constant supply of dyes) to an engine above, which is moveable by a screw, which is pulled by men; and then a piece being clapped by one sitting below between the two dyes, when they meet the impression is set, and then the man with his finger strikes off the piece and claps another in, and then the other men they pull again and that is marked, and then another and another with great speed.
They say that this way is more charge to the King than the old way, but it is neater, freer from clipping or counterfeiting, the putting of the words upon the edges being not to be done (though counterfeited) without an engine of the charge and noise that no counterfeit will be at or venture upon, and it employs as many men as the old and speedier.
They now coyne between 16l. and 24,000l. in a week.
At dinner they did discourse very finely to us of the probability that there is a vast deal of money hid in the land, from this:—
That in King Charles’s time there was near ten millions of money coyned, besides what was then in being of King James’s and Queene Elizabeth’s, of which there is a good deal at this day in being.
Next, that there was but 750,000l. coyned of the Harp and Crosse money, and of this there was 500,000l. brought in upon its being called in. And from very good arguments they find that there cannot be less of it in Ireland and Scotland than 100,000l.; so that there is but 150,000l. missing; and of that, suppose that there should be not above 650,000 still remaining, either melted down, hid, or lost, or hoarded up in England, there will then be but 100,000l. left to be thought to have been transported.
Now, if 750,000l. in twelve years’ time lost but a 100,000l. in danger of being transported, then within thirty-five years’ time will have lost but 3,888,880l. and odd pounds; and as there is 650,000l. remaining after twelve years’ time in England, so after thirty-five years’ time, which was within this two years, there ought in proportion to have been resting 6,111,120l. or thereabouts, beside King James’s and Queen Elizabeth’s money.
Now that most of this must be hid is evident, as they reckon, because of the dearth of money immediately upon the calling-in of the State’s money, which was 500,000l. that came in; and yet there was not any money to be had in this City, which they say to their own observation and knowledge was so. And therefore, though I can say nothing in it myself, I do not dispute it.
I observe how ordinary
is this miracle of a laborer
swallowing down into his belly
all threats and promises
like a better world
so truly round
so little hurt to any man in it
though I now believe
only in the fat of my future
in the earth like a furnace where
the whole body is melted
and at last turns clear
for it is a great mystery
water comes and goes
it requires air
strange how we make
yet cannot touch
another world they find
too heavy or light
like any imaginable difference
between chance and art
so moveable the finger
putting words upon
the millions missing
lost in thought or in time
lost in the earth
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 19 May 1663
Veined
The thin veined leaves— I see
their undersides as they turn
toward window light. You know you're in
the presence of language that speaks
from the depths when you feel the skin
trying to keep it all in. As soon as my head
touches the pillow, the ghosts of my dead
crowd around me like petals. If they wanted it,
I'd offer my heart to them like a sweet.
But they say they don't. Their fingers comb
through my hair the way wind moves down
the limbs of the crepe myrtle. After a good
shaking, the earth around it is covered
with drifts of pale purple and pink.
Do they offer instruction, warning, hope?
They only circle my head like moons
freed from their usual orbit. I keep trying to break
language into patterns that will mean something
beyond myself. I think of the mulberries I picked
from a friend's garden, how even as half of them
sank into swift ferment, their skin still gleamed.
Night, too, presses its blue bruise against
the house walls. Everything can fold back into itself,
and my ghosts slip back like leaves into the pages of
a book. After, the air feels like it does after someone
has said something so real, it becomes unrepeatable
Poetry Blog Digest 2026, Week 20
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: a lion-faced serpent god, the preserved body of a billionaire, memories of tap dancing, a brown-paper-bag existence, and much more. Enjoy.
Continue reading “Poetry Blog Digest 2026, Week 20”Hunter
Up and after taking leave of Sir W. Batten, who is gone this day towards Portsmouth (to little purpose, God knows) upon his survey, I home and spent the morning at dancing; at noon Creed dined with us and Mr. Deane of Woolwich, and so after dinner came Mr. Howe, who however had enough for his dinner, and so, having done, by coach to Westminster, she to Mrs. Clerke and I to St. James’s, where the Duke being gone down by water to-day with the King I went thence to my Lord Sandwich’s lodgings, where Mr. Howe and I walked a while, and going towards Whitehall through the garden Dr. Clerk and Creed called me across the bowling green, and so I went thither and after a stay went up to Mrs. Clerke who was dressing herself to go abroad with my wife. But, Lord! in what a poor condition her best chamber is, and things about her, for all the outside and show that she makes, but I found her just such a one as Mrs. Pierce, contrary to my expectation, so much that I am sick and sorry to see it.
Thence for an hour Creed and I walked to White Hall, and into the Park, seeing the Queen and Maids of Honour passing through the house going to the Park. But above all, Mrs. Stuart is a fine woman, and they say now a common mistress to the King, as my Lady Castlemaine is; which is a great pity. Thence taking a coach to Mrs. Clerke’s, took her, and my wife, and Ashwell, and a Frenchman, a kinsman of hers, to the Park, where we saw many fine faces, and one exceeding handsome, in a white dress over her head, with many others very beautiful. Staying there till past eight at night, I carried Mrs. Clerke and her Frenchman, who sings well, home, and thence home ourselves, talking much of what we had observed to-day of the poor household stuff of Mrs. Clerke and mere show and flutter that she makes in the world; and pleasing myself in my own house and manner of living more than ever I did by seeing how much better and more substantially I live than others do.
So to supper and bed.
who knows who
I am to the owl
passing through
her ash-white head
her beautiful night
the flutter she makes
in the world by seeing
better than others
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 18 May 1663.
Arrangements
Of course I know it's bait.
The algorithm seems clairvoyant,
every ad on my feed picking up
on that one time I stopped to read
the made-up stories of silver-
haired couples, probate lawyers,
locked accounts, missing passwords
and how touch and facial recognition
no longer work when you're dead.
It's almost sweet, the way they pitch
the idea of a clean finish. But also
there's threat (think of signatures
aligned like teeth) behind the smooth,
imagined voice that says order now
what you'll need at the end if you really
care for those who'll have to clean up
your mess. I restrain the impulse to buy—
the plot, the planner, the tidy record
keeper— not already gone, not quite
leaving nor convinced I'm turning
into the ghost of me.
Feeble
(Lord’s day). Up and in my chamber all the morning, preparing my great letters to my father, stating to him the perfect condition of our estate. My wife and Ashwell to church, and after dinner they to church again, and I all the afternoon making an end of my morning’s work, which I did about the evening, and then to talk with my wife till after supper, and so to bed having another small falling out and myself vexed with my old fit of jealousy about her dancing-master. But I am a fool for doing it. So to bed by daylight, I having a very great cold, so as I doubt whether I shall be able to speak to-morrow at our attending the Duke, being now so hoarse.
in the condition of ash
after church
after work
having another
small fall
my old bed cold
as all tomorrow
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 17 May 1663.
The Red-Lipped Batfish
takes small steps on the ocean floor,
looking overdressed, theatrical,
awkward— I recognize the feeling:
of being visible in ways I can't
control, but moving forward anyway
while pretending nothing's wrong.
But maybe the batfish is a diva.
She can walk on the tips
of her fins and doesn't care
if anyone's watching. And maybe
there's nothing wrong, since shame
is an invention that keeps us
from inhabiting our own joy.
What's gravity when you can tiptoe-
float through water, the spots
on your front and back
rippling with reflected light,
announcing your arrival?
Dubious
Up with my mind disturbed and with my last night’s doubts upon me.
For which I deserve to be beaten if not really served as I am fearful of being, especially since God knows that I do not find honesty enough in my own mind but that upon a small temptation I could be false to her, and therefore ought not to expect more justice from her, but God pardon both my sin and my folly herein.
To my office and there sitting all the morning, and at noon dined at home. After dinner comes Pembleton, and I being out of humour would not see him, pretending business, but, Lord! with what jealousy did I walk up and down my chamber listening to hear whether they danced or no, which they did, notwithstanding I afterwards knew and did then believe that Ashwell was with them. So to my office awhile, and, my jealousy still reigning, I went in and, not out of any pleasure but from that only reason, did go up to them to practise, and did make an end of “La Duchesse,” which I think I should, with a little pains, do very well. So broke up and saw him gone.
Then Captain Cocke coming to me to speak about my seeming discourtesy to him in the business of his hemp, I went to the office with him, and there discoursed it largely and I think to his satisfaction.
Then to my business, writing letters and other things till late at night, and so home to supper and bed. My mind in some better ease resolving to prevent matters for the time to come as much as I can, it being to no purpose to trouble myself for what is past, being occasioned too by my own folly.
doubts for which
I deserve to be beaten
nest in my mind
a small false god
both sin and folly
up and down
no better matter
for being myself
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 16 May 1663.
A walk in the park
Up betimes and walked to St. James’s, where Mr. Coventry being in bed I walked in the Park, discoursing with the keeper of the Pell Mell, who was sweeping of it; who told me of what the earth is mixed that do floor the Mall, and that over all there is cockle-shells powdered, and spread to keep it fast; which, however, in dry weather, turns to dust and deads the ball. Thence to Mr. Coventry; and sitting by his bedside, he did tell me that he sent for me to discourse upon my Lord Sandwich’s allowances for his several pays, and what his thoughts are concerning his demands; which he could not take the freedom to do face to face, it being not so proper as by me: and did give me a most friendly and ingenuous account of all; telling me how unsafe, at this juncture, while every man’s, and his actions particularly, are descanted upon, it is either for him to put the Duke upon doing, or my Lord himself to desire anything extraordinary, ‘specially the King having been so bountifull already; which the world takes notice of even to some repinings. All which he did desire me to discourse with my Lord of; which I have undertook to do.
We talked also of our office in general, with which he told me that he was now-a-days nothing so satisfied as he was wont to be. I confess I told him things are ordered in that way that we must of necessity break in a little time a pieces.
After done with him about these things, he told me that for Mr. Hater the Duke’s word was in short that he found he had a good servant, an Anabaptist, and unless he did carry himself more to the scandal of the office, he would bear with his opinion till he heard further, which do please me very much.
Thence walked to Westminster, and there up and down in the Hall and the Parliament House all the morning; at noon by coach to my Lord Crew’s, hearing that Lord Sandwich did dine there; where I told him what had passed between Mr. Coventry and myself; with which he was contented, though I could perceive not very well pleased. And I do believe that my Lord do find some other things go against his mind in the House; for in the motion made the other day in the House by my Lord Bruce, that none be capable of employment but such as have been loyal and constant to the King and Church, the General and my Lord were mentioned to be excepted; and my Lord Bruce did come since to my Lord, to clear himself that he meant nothing to his prejudice, nor could it have any such effect if he did mean it. After discourse with my Lord; to dinner with him; there dining there my Lord Montagu of Boughton, Mr. William Montagu his brother, the Queen’s Sollicitor, &c., and a fine dinner.
Their talk about a ridiculous falling-out two days ago at my Lord of Oxford’s house, at an entertainment of his, there being there my Lord of Albemarle, Lynsey, two of the Porters, my Lord Bellasses, and others, where there were high words and some blows, and pulling off of perriwiggs; till my Lord Monk took away some of their swords, and sent for some soldiers to guard the house till the fray was ended. To such a degree of madness the nobility of this age is come!
After dinner I went up to Sir Thomas Crew, who lies there not very well in his head, being troubled with vapours and fits of dizziness: and there I sat talking with him all the afternoon from one discourse to another, the most was upon the unhappy posture of things at this time; that the King do mind nothing but pleasures, and hates the very sight or thoughts of business; that my Lady Castlemaine rules him, who, he says, hath all the tricks of Aretin that are to be practised to give pleasure. In which he is too able, having a large —-. but what is the unhappiness in that, as the Italian proverb says, “lazzo dritto non vuolt consiglio.” If any of the sober counsellors give him good advice, and move him in anything that is to his good and honour, the other part, which are his counsellers of pleasure, take him when he is with my Lady Castlemaine, and in a humour of delight, and then persuade him that he ought not to hear nor listen to the advice of those old dotards or counsellors that were heretofore his enemies: when, God knows! it is they that now-a-days do most study his honour. It seems the present favourites now are my Lord Bristol, Duke of Buckingham, Sir H. Bennet, my Lord Ashley, and Sir Charles Barkeley; who, among them, have cast my Lord Chancellor upon his back, past ever getting up again; there being now little for him to do, and he waits at Court attending to speak to the King as others do: which I pray God may prove of good effects, for it is feared it will be the same with my Lord Treasurer shortly. But strange to hear how my Lord Ashley, by my Lord Bristol’s means (he being brought over to the Catholique party against the Bishopps, whom he hates to the death, and publicly rails against them; not that he is become a Catholique, but merely opposes the Bishopps; and yet, for aught I hear, the Bishopp of London keeps as great with the King as ever) is got into favour, so much that, being a man of great business and yet of pleasure, and drolling too, he, it is thought, will be made Lord Treasurer upon the death or removal of the good old man.
My Lord Albemarle, I hear, do bear through and bustle among them, and will not be removed from the King’s good opinion and favour, though none of the Cabinett; but yet he is envied enough.
It is made very doubtful whether the King do not intend the making of the Duke of Monmouth legitimate; but surely the Commons of England will never do it, nor the Duke of York suffer it, whose lady, I am told, is very troublesome to him by her jealousy. But it is wonderful that Sir Charles Barkeley should be so great still, not with the King, but Duke also; who did so stiffly swear that he had lain with her. And another one Armour that he rode before her on horseback in Holland I think, and she rid with her hand upon his ——.
No care is observed to be taken of the main chance, either for maintaining of trade or opposing of factions, which, God knows, are ready to break out, if any of them (which God forbid!) should dare to begin; the King and every man about him minding so much their pleasures or profits.
My Lord Hinchingbroke, I am told, hath had a mischance to kill his boy by his birding-piece going off as he was a-fowling. The gun was charged with small shot, and hit the boy in the face and about the temples, and he lived four days.
In Scotland, it seems, for all the newes-books tell us every week that they are all so quiett, and everything in the Church settled, the old women had like to have killed, the other day, the Bishop of Galloway, and not half the Churches of the whole kingdom conform.
Strange were the effects of the late thunder and lightning about a week since at Northampton, coming with great rain, which caused extraordinary floods in a few hours, bearing away bridges, drowning horses, men, and cattle. Two men passing over a bridge on horseback, the arches before and behind them were borne away, and that left which they were upon: but, however, one of the horses fell over, and was drowned. Stacks of faggots carried as high as a steeple, and other dreadful things; which Sir Thomas Crew showed me letters to him about from Mr. Freemantle and others, that it is very true.
The Portugalls have choused us, it seems, in the Island of Bombay, in the East Indys; for after a great charge of our fleets being sent thither with full commission from the King of Portugall to receive it, the Governour by some pretence or other will not deliver it to Sir Abraham Shipman, sent from the King, nor to my Lord of Marlborough; which the King takes highly ill, and I fear our Queen will fare the worse for it.
The Dutch decay there exceedingly, it being believed that their people will revolt from them there, and they forced to give over their trade. This is talked of among us, but how true I understand not.
Sir Thomas showed me his picture and Sir Anthony Vandike’s, in crayon in little, done exceedingly well.
Having thus freely talked with him, and of many more things, I took leave, and by coach to St. James’s, and there told Mr. Coventry what I had done with my Lord with great satisfaction, and so well pleased home, where I found it almost night, and my wife and the dancing-master alone above, not dancing but talking. Now so deadly full of jealousy I am that my heart and head did so cast about and fret that I could not do any business possibly, but went out to my office, and anon late home again and ready to chide at every thing, and then suddenly to bed and could hardly sleep, yet durst not say any thing, but was forced to say that I had bad news from the Duke concerning Tom Hater as an excuse to my wife, who by my folly has too much opportunity given her with the man, who is a pretty neat black man, but married. But it is a deadly folly and plague that I bring upon myself to be so jealous and by giving myself such an occasion more than my wife desired of giving her another month’s dancing. Which however shall be ended as soon as I can possibly. But I am ashamed to think what a course I did take by lying to see whether my wife did wear drawers to-day as she used to do, and other things to raise my suspicion of her, but I found no true cause of doing it.
a park keeper weeping
told me what the earth is
cockle shells and weather
dust and dead beds
a face for
the bountiful world
which we must of necessity
break in pieces
with words and blows
and a degree of madness
and what is the unhappiness in that
if the light is good
as death keeps rolling
old bear doubtful in the mouth
surely the land will never suffer
it is so great still
we know every bird
going quiet like a drowned island
how many more dead
could be yet to raise
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 15 May 1663.

