Idyll

Up betimes, and studying of my double horizontal diall against Dean Honiwood comes to me, who dotes mightily upon it, and I think I must give it him.
So after talking with Sir W. Batten, who is this morning gone to Guildhall to his trial with Field, I to my office, and there read all the morning in my statute-book, consulting among others the statute against selling of offices, wherein Mr. Coventry is so much concerned; and though he tells me that the statute do not reach him, yet I much fear that it will.
At noon, hearing that the trial is done, and Sir W. Batten come to the Sun behind the Exchange I went thither, where he tells me that he had much ado to carry it on his side, but that at last he did, but the jury, by the judge’s favour, did give us but 10l. damages and the charges of the suit, which troubles me; but it is well it went not against us, which would have been much worse.
So to the Exchange, and thence home to dinner, taking Deane of Woolwich along with me, and he dined alone with my wife being undressed, and he and I spent all the afternoon finely, learning of him the method of drawing the lines of a ship, to my great satisfaction, and which is well worth my spending some time in, as I shall do when my wife is gone into the country. In the evening to the office and did some business, then home, and, God forgive me, did from my wife’s unwillingness to tell me whither she had sent the boy, presently suspect that he was gone to Pembleton’s, and from that occasion grew so discontented that I could hardly speak or sleep all night.

sun behind her dress
the lines of a hip

on a country evening
so content I hardly speak


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 3 June 1663.

Rumiesque

Up and by water to White Hall and so to St. James’s, to Mr. Coventry; where I had an hour’s private talk with him. Most of it was discourse concerning his own condition, at present being under the censure of the House, being concerned with others in the Bill for selling of offices. He tells me, that though he thinks himself to suffer much in his fame hereby, yet he values nothing more of evil to hang over him for that it is against no statute, as is pretended, nor more than what his predecessors time out of mind have taken; and that so soon as he found himself to be in an errour, he did desire to have his fees set, which was done; and since that he hath not taken a token more. He undertakes to prove, that he did never take a token of any captain to get him employed in his life beforehand, or demanded any thing: and for the other accusation, that the Cavaliers are not employed, he looked over the list of them now in the service, and of the twenty-seven that are employed, thirteen have been heretofore always under the King; two neutralls, and the other twelve men of great courage, and such as had either the King’s particular commands, or great recommendation to put them in, and none by himself. Besides that, he says it is not the King’s nor Duke’s opinion that the whole party of the late officers should be rendered desperate. And lastly, he confesses that the more of the Cavaliers are put in, the less of discipline hath followed in the fleet; and that, whenever there comes occasion, it must be the old ones that must do any good, there being only, he says, but Captain Allen good for anything of them all.
He tells me, that he cannot guess whom all this should come from; but he suspects Sir G. Carteret, as I also do, at least that he is pleased with it. But he tells me that he will bring Sir G. Carteret to be the first adviser and instructor of him what to make his place of benefit to him; telling him that Smith did make his place worth 5000l. and he believed 7000l. to him the first year; besides something else greater than all this, which he forbore to tell me.
It seems one Sir Thomas Tomkins of the House, that makes many mad motions, did bring it into the House, saying that a letter was left at his lodgings, subscribed by one Benson (which is a feigned name, for there is no such man in the Navy), telling him how many places in the Navy have been sold. And by another letter, left in the same manner since, nobody appearing, he writes him that there is one Hughes and another Butler (both rogues, that have for their roguery been turned out of their places), that will swear that Mr. Coventry did sell their places and other things.
I offered him my service, and will with all my heart serve him; but he tells me he do not think it convenient to meddle, or to any purpose, but is sensible of my love therein.
So I bade him good morrow, he being out of order to speak anything of our office business, and so away to Westminster Hall, where I hear more of the plot from Ireland; which it seems hath been hatching, and known to the Lord Lieutenant a great while, and kept close till within three days that it should have taken effect. The term ended yesterday, and it seems the Courts rose sooner, for want of causes, than it is remembered to have done in the memory of man.
Thence up and down about business in several places, as to speak with Mr. Phillips, but missed him, and so to Mr. Beacham, the goldsmith, he being one of the jury to-morrow in Sir W. Batten’s case against Field. I have been telling him our case, and I believe he will do us good service there.
So home, and seeing my wife had dined I went, being invited, and dined with Sir W. Batten, Sir J. Minnes, and others, at Sir W. Batten’s, Captain Allen giving them a Foy dinner, he being to go down to lie Admiral in the Downs this summer. I cannot but think it a little strange that having been so civil to him as I have been he should not invite me to dinner, but I believe it was but a sudden motion, and so I heard not of it.
After dinner to the office, where all the afternoon till late, and so to see Sir W. Pen, and so home to supper and to bed.
To-night I took occasion with the vintner’s man, who came by my direction to taste again my tierce of claret, to go down to the cellar with him to consult about the drawing of it; and there, to my great vexation, I find that the cellar door hath long been kept unlocked, and above half the wine drunk. I was deadly mad at it, and examined my people round, but nobody would confess it; but I did examine the boy, and afterwards Will, and told him of his sitting up after we were in bed with the maids, but as to that business he denies it, which I can remedy, but I shall endeavour to know how it went.
My wife did also this evening tell me a story of Ashwell stealing some new ribbon from her, a yard or two, which I am sorry to hear, and I fear my wife do take a displeasure against her, that they will hardly stay together, which I should be sorry for, because I know not where to pick such another out anywhere.

I value nothing
more than error

desire life before
the service of courage

the old must suspect
that the mad motions of the heart

serve no purpose
but love or hatching

the sudden motion of a cellar door
long kept locked

and half the wine drunk
as a remedy


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 2 June 1663.

The animals get your discards

Grant us, we prayed. Spare.
For everything we wanted,

a roll of perforated tickets. Circus
tent, my skirts and loincloth rent.

Exhibit of fiery stripes and colors.
I know how to twine and twine

the serpent’s bleached spine and crown
myself. I hoist the daily weight of some

kind of world up there. So regal, you say,
your eye clicking and clicking its camera

shutter. I laugh, knowing the contents
of my tin can: pig slop, your common leavings

shaved for compost from dinner plates.
The flies admire your such good taste

but I, I do not care. These breasts
might strain against my good

white blouse when my arms lift
my burden back upon my head—

but be warned: you cannot cop a feel.
I have a braid of horsehair, taut vein,

a brittle bell. Red flames I could stir
to churning. Clouds boiling in every agate stone.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Solipsist.

Rounds

Humid nights, difficult to fall asleep
as tokay geckos began to call and darkness
settled thick, another net pressing

its shapeless shape against the folds
of mosquito netting. And we would hear
his footsteps as he did his nightly

checks around the house: my father
testing each window’s iron hook
and eye in not just one but several

wide circles traced from living
through dining room to kitchen
and back, finally sliding the heavy

security bar in place across
the front door before his footsteps
receded. For there was that night

in November, heavy with rain and thunder,
when we did not hear a back window
jimmied open, the thieves

slitting the covers from sofa cushions
and stuffing them with the boombox
that no longer worked,

the coffeemaker, the portable
typewriter in its robin’s egg
blue case; then stealing into

the children’s room to pilfer
small change from the bureau.
One child awoke but held

as still as death
while watching through
an edge of blanket. They let

themselves back out
into the night as furtively
as they had come. By luck

or grace, we were unscathed.
It’s years from then, and we’re
now in a different clime, another

neighborhood. Even so, we watch—
listening with one ear always pressed
to the flimsy outer door of sleep.

Trump

Begun again to rise betimes by 4 o’clock, and made an end of “The Adventures of Five Houres,” and it is a most excellent play.
So to my office, where a while and then about several businesses, in my way to my brother’s, where I dined (being invited) with Mr. Peter and Dean Honiwood, where Tom did give us a very pretty dinner, and we very pleasant, but not very merry, the Dean being but a weak man, though very good.
I was forced to rise, being in haste to St. James’s to attend the Duke, and left them to end their dinner; but the Duke having been a-hunting to-day, and so lately come home and gone to bed, we could not see him, and Mr. Coventry being out of the house too, we walked away to White Hall and there took coach, and I with Sir J. Minnes to the Strand May-pole; and there ‘light out of his coach, and walked to the New Theatre, which, since the King’s players are gone to the Royal one, is this day begun to be employed by the fencers to play prizes at. And here I came and saw the first prize I ever saw in my life: and it was between one Mathews, who did beat at all weapons, and one Westwicke, who was soundly cut several times both in the head and legs, that he was all over blood: and other deadly blows they did give and take in very good earnest, till Westwicke was in a most sad pickle. They fought at eight weapons, three bouts at each weapon. It was very well worth seeing, because I did till this day think that it has only been a cheat; but this being upon a private quarrel, they did it in good earnest; and I felt one of their swords, and found it to be very little, if at all blunter on the edge, than the common swords are. Strange to see what a deal of money is flung to them both upon the stage between every bout. But a woful rude rabble there was, and such noises, made my head ake all this evening. So, well pleased for once with this sight, I walked home, doing several businesses by the way. In my way calling to see Commissioner Pett, who lies sick at his daughter, a pretty woman, in Gracious Street, but is likely to be abroad again in a day or two. At home I found my wife in bed all this day of her months.
I went to see Sir Wm. Pen, who has a little pain of his gout again, but will do well. So home to supper and to bed.
This day I hear at Court of the great plot which was lately discovered in Ireland, made among the Presbyters and others, designing to cry up the Covenant, and to secure Dublin Castle and other places; and they have debauched a good part of the army there, promising them ready money. Some of the Parliament there, they say, are guilty, and some withdrawn upon it; several persons taken, and among others a son of Scott’s, that was executed here for the King’s murder.
What reason the King hath, I know not; but it seems he is doubtfull of Scotland: and this afternoon, when I was there, the Council was called extraordinary; and they were opening the letters this last post’s coming and going between Scotland and us and other places. Blessed be God, my head and hands are clear, and therefore my sleep safe. The King of France is well again.

a weak man I was forced
to play at life

the head was a sad weapon
ink has only been a cheat

words blunter on the edge than swords
are flung to a rude rabble

like an army guilty of murder
I open my hands and sleep


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 1 June 1663.

Mango

This entry is part 14 of 15 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Spring 2016

Who decided to name them after
champagne, these glowy yellow
golden hearts

syrupy with promise?
They are like moons ripening
over a dark river in summer,

when heat and ennui make
mirages of every longing.
Even after you’ve eaten

down to the pith, you want
to tip the boat farther
with your sticky fingers;

you want to step into that water,
clumsy, not knowing what to do,
carrying your big hunger.

 

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Solipsist

(Lord’s day). Lay long in bed talking with my wife, and do plainly see that her distaste (which is beginning now in her again) against Ashwell arises from her jealousy of me and her, and my neglect of herself, which indeed is true, and I to blame; but for the time to come I will take care to remedy all.
So up and to church, where I think I did see Pembleton, whatever the reason is I did not perceive him to look up towards my wife, nor she much towards him; however, I could hardly keep myself from being troubled that he was there, which is a madness not to be excused now that his coming to my house is past, and I hope all likelyhood of her having occasion to converse with him again.
Home to dinner, and after dinner up and read part of the new play of “The Five Houres’ Adventures,” which though I have seen it twice; yet I never did admire or understand it enough, it being a play of the greatest plot that ever I expect to see, and of great vigour quite through the whole play, from beginning to the end.
To church again after dinner (my wife finding herself ill of her months did not go), and there the Scot preaching I slept most of the sermon.
This day Sir W. Batten’s son’s child is christened in the country, whither Sir J. Minnes, and Sir W. Batten, and Sir W. Pen are all gone. I wonder, and take it highly ill that I am not invited by the father, though I know his father and mother, with whom I am never likely to have much kindness, but rather I study the contrary, are the cause of it, and in that respect I am glad of it. Being come from church, I to make up my month’s accounts, and find myself clear worth 726l., for which God be praised, but yet I might have been better by 20l. almost had I forborne some layings out in dancing and other things upon my wife, and going to plays and other things merely to ease my mind as to the business of the dancing-master, which I bless God is now over and I falling to my quiet of mind and business again, which I have for a fortnight neglected too much.
This month the greatest news is, the height and heat that the Parliament is in, in enquiring into the revenue, which displeases the Court, and their backwardness to give the King any money. Their enquiring into the selling of places do trouble a great many among the chief, my Lord Chancellor (against whom particularly it is carried), and Mr. Coventry; for which I am sorry. The King of France was given out to be poisoned and dead; but it proves to be the measles: and he is well, or likely to be soon well again.
I find myself growing in the esteem and credit that I have in the office, and I hope falling to my business again will confirm me in it, and the saving of money which God grant!
So to supper, prayers, and bed.
My whole family lying longer this morning than was fit, and besides Will having neglected to brush my clothes, as he ought to do, till I was ready to go to church, and not then till I bade him, I was very angry, and seeing him make little matter of it, but seeming to make it a matter indifferent whether he did it or no, I did give him a box on the ear, and had it been another day should have done more. This is the second time I ever struck him.

my taste is for madness
like a verse I never understand enough

I expect to find each child
gone to be born

and I fall into neglect
ward of a poisoned well

all my prayers lying
in an indifferent box


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 31 May 1663.

Nostalgia as the longing to be elsewhere

I know the kind of exhaustion
you spoke of at breakfast that morning,
as we passed plates of bread and cheese
and fruit around the table, and cup
after cup of strong black coffee.

The rain had not yet fallen hard,
though it was predicted. The salt
in the skin of cheese gave way
to the mellow note at its center,
and we married it with jam

and real sugar and cream
instead of milk because such things
when you can have them are precious
after all in this short lifetime.
And I wanted to say yes, I know,

I know that kind of loneliness,
the one that stays anyway, long
after the gleaming embrace of cities
turns to wreaths of dirt and smoke,
the way it is for immigrants

and dreamers when they first step
on land after having been at sea
for weeks or months; the way it is
when a dream has been held so long,
against the longer onslaughts of time.

The Transports of History

But as always the taxicab
of history picks up its passengers, takes them where
they think they want to go; then leaves them there.
Current Events” by Luisa A. Igloria

Some people take the taxicab of history,
dingy with worn seats
and a strange smell that no one can identify.

Our rulers travel in their own vehicles,
a glamorous car with a crew of soldiers
to protect them from the ones they serve
or an airplane high above the land.

Many will take the Greyhound bus of history,
if they’re lucky. It can be crowded,
with a restroom too dreadful to use,
but at least the progress is usually swift and steady.

Most of us have no vehicle.
We walk our shoes to shreds as we trudge
across deserts that were once ancient seabeds.
We take that last desperate swim
between continents, the savage
sea creatures surrounding us no more harmful
than the predators left behind.

Anticreed

Up betimes, and Creed and I by water to Fleet Street, and my brother not being ready, he and I walked to the New Exchange, and there drank our morning draught of whay, the first I have done this year; but I perceive the lawyers come all in as they go to the Hall, and I believe it is very good.
So to my brother’s, and there I found my aunt James, a poor, religious, well-meaning, good soul, talking of nothing but God Almighty, and that with so much innocence that mightily pleased me. Here was a fellow that said grace so long like a prayer; I believe the fellow is a cunning fellow, and yet I by my brother’s desire did give him a crown, he being in great want, and, it seems, a parson among the fanatiques, and a cozen of my poor aunt’s, whose prayers she told me did do me good among the many good souls that did by my father’s desires pray for me when I was cut of the stone, and which God did hear, which I also in complaisance did own; but, God forgive me, my mind was otherwise. I had a couple of lobsters and some wine for her, and so, she going out of town to-day, and being not willing to come home with me to dinner, I parted and home, where we sat at the office all the morning, and after dinner all the afternoon till night, there at my office getting up the time that I have of late lost by not following my business, but I hope now to settle my mind again very well to my business.
So home, and after supper did wash my feet, and so to bed.

no change in the law
they believe is good

a soul with so much innocence
might pray to a stone

God is forgive me other-
wise

wine and night settle my mind
I wash my feet


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 30 May 1663.