Rondo: Dying World

5

Pagpakada: a leave-taking, a bidding farewell.
How does the slug in the grass drag its soft
permeable body through a cosmos of risk? Each
fallen bloom a spirit house, the litany of heat
rising steadily from dawn through noon. I want
to remember everything— all the roads erased
by rain, all the buildings that once stood there;
the quiet light of afternoons making doors shine
like wet bark gathered from the cassia tree;
bits of yellow rubber from a sandal perhaps the last
echo from schoolyards where children pledged allegiance.

Reality show

Lay long pleasantly entertaining myself with my wife, and then up and to the office, where busy till noon, vexed to see how Sir J. Minnes deserves rather to be pitied for his dotage and folly than employed at a great salary to ruin the King’s business. At noon to the ‘Change, and thence home to dinner, and then down to Deptford, where busy a while, and then walking home it fell hard a raining. So at Halfway house put in, and there meeting Mr. Stacy with some company of pretty women, I took him aside to a room by ourselves, and there talked with him about the several sorts of tarrs, and so by and by parted, and I walked home and there late at the office, and so home to supper and to bed.

entertaining to see how age
and ruin change us

a hard rain
meeting with our selves
a sort of tar


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 12 March 1663/64.

Rondo: Dying World

4

Do you think it beastly that we’re
possibly the only creatures who aspire,
at death, to translation in another sphere?
Meanwhile, who knows where the dead beetle
has gone, its bright shellacked carapace lying
still on a rock edge, its red husk stippled
with marks but light as air? But I admit there is
a kind of comfort from taking part in the ritual
called pagpakada: gathering around the deceased
to watch as someone acting as his representative
stands up, takes leave, bids the living goodbye.

Soloist

Up and by coach to my Lord Sandwich’s, who not being up I staid talking with Mr. Moore till my Lord was ready and come down, and went directly out without calling for me or seeing any body. I know not whether he knew I was there, but I am apt to think not, because if he would have given me that slighting yet he would not have done it to others that were there. So I went back again doing nothing but discoursing with Mr. Moore, who I find by discourse to be grown rich, and indeed not to use me at all with the respect he used to do, but as his equal. He made me known to their Chaplin, who is a worthy, able man. Thence home, and by and by to the Coffee-house, and thence to the ‘Change, and so home to dinner, and after a little chat with my wife to the office, where all the afternoon till very late at the office busy, and so home to supper and to bed, hoping in God that my diligence, as it is really very useful for the King, so it will end in profit to myself. In the meantime I have good content in mind to see myself improve every day in knowledge and being known.

who without a body
would give light to others

I do nothing but sing

who is equal to their house
in the use of an edge


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 11 March 1663/64.

Traveller

Up and to the office, where all the morning doing business, and at noon to the ‘Change and there very busy, and so home to dinner with my wife, to a good hog’s harslet, a piece of meat I love, but have not eat of I think these seven years, and after dinner abroad by coach set her at Mrs. Hunt’s and I to White Hall, and at the Privy Seale I enquired, and found the Bill come for the Corporation of the Royall Fishery; whereof the Duke of Yorke is made present Governor, and several other very great persons, to the number of thirty-two, made his assistants for their lives: whereof, by my Lord Sandwich’s favour, I am one; and take it not only as a matter of honour, but that, that may come to be of profit to me, and so with great content went and called my wife, and so home and to the office, where busy late, and so home to supper and to bed.

my love of the road
a sea for all present lives of sand

may come to me
and call me at home


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 10 March 1663/64.

Rondo: Dying World

3

Not all things that fall to the ground
are canceled— call it luck, call it
faith, call it the universe’s benign
indifference. I saw photographs taken
by a hiker in remote villages: among people
we would consider poor, beautiful and grave
arrangements of water buffalo horns strung
on house posts, end notes from a sacrifice.
Neither trophy nor spoils, but the labor
of humans alongside beasts, each at death
aspiring to translation in another sphere.

Rondo: Dying World

2

Truly unsettling, the light that hovers
at the periphery before it gives itself
to the tent of darkness: burnished
metal, sheen of some god’s afterthought
burning in the distance. And in the first
moments after everything plunges into
its depths, it is as if the world will never
be visible again. We turn to each other, press
close in this cleft among the rocks. We hear
an owl begin to hunt: hear the muffled flap,
thud of a small body canceled on the ground.

Rondo: Dying World

1

Deeper into the country, at some point
after we cross the state line, the roads
narrow and wind. Deeper still where towns
fall away, where we can no longer see
the radars of the last station; where
there are no more rest stops with vending
machines, where our phones do not pick up
signals from the towers— there, among
the grass and wildflowers, where wind
or the river carry the only voices
capable of truly unsettling.

Nel mezzo del cammin

Up pretty betimes to my office, where all day long, but a little at home at dinner, at my office finishing all things about Mr. Woods contract for masts, wherein I am sure I shall save the King 400l. before I have done. At night home to supper and to bed.

time is a thin woods
I am sure I shall save
for one night


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 9 March 1663/64.

Caligula

Up with some little discontent with my wife upon her saying that she had got and used some puppy-dog water, being put upon it by a desire of my aunt Wight to get some for her, who hath a mind, unknown to her husband, to get some for her ugly face. I to the office, where we sat all the morning, doing not much business through the multitude of counsellors, one hindering another. It was Mr. Coventry’s own saying to me in his coach going to the ‘Change, but I wonder that he did give me no thanks for my letter last night, but I believe he did only forget it. Thence home, whither Luellin came and dined with me, but we made no long stay at dinner; for “Heraclius” being acted, which my wife and I have a mighty mind to see, we do resolve, though not exactly agreeing with the letter of my vowe, yet altogether with the sense, to see another this month, by going hither instead of that at Court, there having been none conveniently since I made my vowe for us to see there, nor like to be this Lent, and besides we did walk home on purpose to make this going as cheap as that would have been, to have seen one at Court, and my conscience knows that it is only the saving of money and the time also that I intend by my oaths, and this has cost no more of either, so that my conscience before God do after good consultation and resolution of paying my forfeit, did my conscience accuse me of breaking my vowe, I do not find myself in the least apprehensive that I have done any violence to my oaths. The play hath one very good passage well managed in it, about two persons pretending, and yet denying themselves, to be son to the tyrant Phocas, and yet heire of Mauritius to the crowne. The garments like Romans very well. The little girle is come to act very prettily, and spoke the epilogue most admirably. But at the beginning, at the drawing up of the curtaine, there was the finest scene of the Emperor and his people about him, standing in their fixed and different pastures in their Roman habitts, above all that ever I yet saw at any of the theatres. Walked home, calling to see my brother Tom, who is in bed, and I doubt very ill of a consumption. To the office awhile, and so home to supper and to bed.

I put on my ugly face
to the multitude

my last act
conveniently mad

like the violence of a crow
come to poke at the people

standing in their fixed
and different pastures


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 8 March 1663/64.