To write on water,

in the native idiom, means

a favor or a debt whose repayment
has been promised in the fluid,

unforeseeable future: today’s
material need secured through

mixed currency— one part faith
and the other desperation;

or some other bind only a god
might fathom, an interest

of stringent terms exceeding
the single instance of exchange.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Saved.

Saved

In the morning to see the Dockhouses. First, Mr. Pett’s, the builder, and there was very kindly received, and among other things he did offer my Lady Batten a parrot, the best I ever saw, that knew Mingo so soon as it saw him, having been bred formerly in the house with them; but for talking and singing I never heard the like. My Lady did accept of it.
Then to see Commissioner Pett’s house, he and his family being absent, and here I wondered how my Lady Batten walked up and down with envious looks to see how neat and rich everything is (and indeed both the house and garden is most handsome), saying that she would get it, for it belonged formerly to the Surveyor of the Navy.
Then on board the Prince, now in the dock, and indeed it has one and no more rich cabins for carved work, but no gold in her.
After that back home, and there eat a little dinner. Then to Rochester, and there saw the Cathedrall, which is now fitting for use, and the organ then a-tuning. Then away thence, observing the great doors of the church, which, they say, was covered with the skins of the Danes, and also had much mirth at a tomb, on which was “Come sweet Jesu,” and I read “Come sweet Mall,” &c., at which Captain Pett and I had good laughter.
So to the Salutacion tavern, where Mr. Alcock and many of the town came and entertained us with wine and oysters and other things, and hither come Sir John Minnes to us, who is come to-day to see “the Henery,” in which he intends to ride as Vice-Admiral in the narrow seas all this summer. Here much mirth, but I was a little troubled to stay too long, because of going to Hempson’s, which afterwards we did, and found it in all things a most pretty house, and rarely furnished, only it had a most ill access on all sides to it, which is a greatest fault that I think can be in a house.
Here we had, for my sake, two fiddles, the one a base viall, on which he that played, played well some lyra lessons, but both together made the worst musique that ever I heard.
We had a fine collacion, but I took little pleasure in that, for the illness of the musique and for the intentness of my mind upon Mrs. Rebecca Allen.
After we had done eating, the ladies went to dance, and among the men we had, I was forced to dance too; and did make an ugly shift. Mrs. R. Allen danced very well, and seems the best humoured woman that ever I saw. About 9 o’clock Sir William and my Lady went home, and we continued dancing an hour or two, and so broke up very pleasant and merry, and so walked home, I leading Mrs. Rebecca, who seemed, I know not why, in that and other things, to be desirous of my favours and would in all things show me respects.
Going home, she would needs have me sing, and I did pretty well and was highly esteemed by them.
So to Captain Allen’s (where we were last night, and heard him play on the harpsicon, and I find him to be a perfect good musician), and there, having no mind to leave Mrs. Rebecca, what with talk and singing (her father and I), Mrs. Turner and I staid there till 2 o’clock in the morning and was most exceeding merry, and I had the opportunity of kissing Mrs. Rebecca very often.
Among other things Captain Pett was saying that he thought that he had got his wife with child since I came thither. Which I took hold of and was merrily asking him what he would take to have it said for my honour that it was of my getting? He merrily answered that he would if I would promise to be godfather to it if it did come within the time just, and I said that I would. So that I must remember to compute it when the time comes.

I offer a parrot my garden
and a church my mind.
The ladies dance
and the men dance too,
desirous of favors, exceeding a kiss,
asking god to compute it
when the time comes.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 10 April 1661.

Walking onions

The phoebes across the road
carry beakfuls of mud
into their nest.

Planting onions,
my thumb- and fingernails harvest
black crescents.

This summer while I’m gone,
the walking onions will re-plant themselves,
head-down in the dirt.

Languor is not the same as lassitude,

in the way hello or even hi is not the same
as hey; gratitude is kin, not sibling to tepid
appreciation. Perhaps the most distant of all
is report for duty. Where does the fickle
heart go at first sign of a cloud? Who comes
to fold down the yellow parasols while the sun
is still shining? who rolls up the awnings,
takes down the Welcome signs, who
picks up the phone to call for a cab?

 

In response to Via Negativa: Empty.

Empty

Just after your departure,
I find half a hummingbird nest
and an old broken crock.

The sun comes out.
A fly circles the lip
of a purple crocus.

The kestrel hunting meadow voles
keeps returning
to the same electric line.

Pentecostal

…and lay and slept well till 3 in the morning, and then waking, and by the light of the moon I saw my pillow (which overnight I flung from me) stand upright, but not bethinking myself what it might be, I was a little afeard, but sleep overcame all and so lay till high morning, at which time I had a candle brought me and a good fire made, and in general it was a great pleasure all the time I staid here to see how I am respected and honoured by all people; and I find that I begin to know now how to receive so much reverence, which at the beginning I could not tell how to do.
Sir William and I by coach to the dock and there viewed all the storehouses and the old goods that are this day to be sold, which was great pleasure to me, and so back again by coach home, where we had a good dinner, and among other strangers that come, there was Mr. Hempson and his wife, a pretty woman, and speaks Latin; Mr. Allen and two daughters of his, both very tall and the youngest very handsome, so much as I could not forbear to love her exceedingly, having, among other things, the best hand that ever I saw.
After dinner, we went to fit books and things (Tom Hater being this morning come to us) for the sale, by an inch of candle, and very good sport we and the ladies that stood by had, to see the people bid. Among other things sold there was all the State’s arms, which Sir W. Batten bought; intending to set up some of the images in his garden, and the rest to burn on the Coronacion night. The sale being done, the ladies and I and Captain Pett and Mr. Castle took barge and down we went to see the Sovereign, which we did, taking great pleasure therein, singing all the way, and, among other pleasures, I put my Lady, Mrs. Turner, Mrs. Hempson, and the two Mrs. Allens into the lanthorn and I went in and kissed them, demanding it as a fee due to a principall officer, with all which we were exceeding merry, and drunk some bottles of wine and neat’s tongue, &c. Then back again home and so supped, and after much mirth to bed.

By the light of the moon,
my little candle is a stranger.
The pretty woman speaks Latin
and I love her books
by an inch of candle,
see the images burn
in the sovereign, singing tongue.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 9 April 1661.

Proverbial (4)

Up early, my Lady Batten knocking at her door that comes into one of my chambers. I did give directions to my people and workmen, and so about 8 o’clock we took barge at the Tower, Sir William Batten and his lady, Mrs. Turner, Mr. Fowler and I. A very pleasant passage and so to Gravesend, where we dined, and from thence a coach took them and me, and Mr. Fowler with some others came from Rochester to meet us, on horseback. At Rochester, where alight at Mr. Alcock’s and there drank and had good sport, with his bringing out so many sorts of cheese. Then to the Hillhouse at Chatham, where I never was before, and I found a pretty pleasant house and am pleased with the arms that hang up there. Here we supped very merry, and late to bed; Sir William telling me that old Edgeborrow, his predecessor, did die and walk in my chamber, did make me some what afeard, but not so much as for mirth’s sake I did seem. So to bed in the treasurer’s chamber…

Knock on a clock, owe an owl.

 
A sage and an owl meet where a light is out.

 
Never was a house pleased with the arms that hang there.

 
We die in fear, not for mirth’s sake.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 8 April 1661.

Dear Buddha,

why is it that some people get all the breaks
while the rest of us have to suck it up
almost from the day we are born? Let’s just say
I came on the scene with even less than
a homespun face; and though my parents tried
to make up for what I lacked in physical beauty
by encouraging me to cultivate my mind,
there’s only so much one can do. Living
from paycheck to paycheck, from dream to dream,
I know how to improvise, invent; I’m a whiz
at make do. I go to free concerts in the park,
know my Horace, Marx, and Descartes—
But what gets my goat the most is how those
that graze on the fat of the land get such glee
from trampling everyone else underfoot. Today
I read that not all water lovers are buoyant in
the same way
— You betcha. But I too want
to rise to that brilliant and beautiful blue,
that fluid surface where all kinds of bodies
might feel seamless and new in their skin.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Lotic.

Dilettante’s prayer

(Lord’s day). All the morning at home making up my accounts (God forgive me!) to give up to my Lord this afternoon. Then about 11 o’clock out of doors towards Westminster and put in at Paul’s, where I saw our minister, Mr. Mills, preaching before my Lord Mayor. So to White Hall, and there I met with Dr. Fuller of Twickenham, newly come from Ireland; and took him to my Lord’s, where he and I dined; and he did give my Lord and me a good account of the condition of Ireland, and how it come to pass, through the joyning of the Fanatiques and the Presbyterians, that the latter and the former are in their declaration put together under the names of Fanatiques.
After dinner, my Lord and I and Mr. Shepley did look over our accounts and settle matters of money between us; and my Lord did tell me much of his mind about getting money and other things of his family, &c. Then to my father’s, where I found Mr. Hunt and his wife at supper with my father and mother and my wife, where after supper I left them and so home, and then I went to Sir W. Batten’s and resolved of a journey tomorrow to Chatham, and so home and to bed.

God give me
the clock of a minister,
the ire of an ass, the joy
of fanatics and a mind
to journey at home.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 7 April 1661.