Via Negativa

January 19, 2026January 18, 2026 by Luisa A. Igloria

(Lord’s day). Up, and after the barber had done, and I had spoke with Mr. Smith (whom I sent for on purpose to speak of Field’s business, who stands upon 250l. before he will release us, which do trouble me highly), and also Major Allen of the Victualling Office about his ship to be hired for Tangier, I went to church, and thence home to dinner alone with my wife, very pleasant, and after dinner to church again, and heard a dull, drowsy sermon, and so home and to my office, perfecting my vows again for the next year, which I have now done, and sworn to in the presence of Almighty God to observe upon the respective penalties thereto annexed, and then to Sir W. Pen’s (though much against my will, for I cannot bear him, but only to keep him from complaint to others that I do not see him) to see how he do, and find him pretty well, and ready to go abroad again.

the field’s business
is red and pleasant

and I
drowsy and worn

in the presence of a god
I cannot keep

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 18 January 1662/63.

January 18, 2026 by Dave Bonta

Fucking around

Waked early with my mind troubled about our law matters, but it came into my mind that ἐκ ἡμῖν καὶ οὐκ &c. of Epictetus, which did put me to a great deal of ease, it being a saying of great reason.
Up to the office, and there sat Mr. Coventry, Mr. Pett, new come to town, and I. I was sorry for signing a bill and guiding Mr. Coventry to sign a bill to Mr. Creed for his pay as Deputy Treasurer to this day, though the service ended 5 or 6 months ago, which he perceiving did blot out his name afterwards, but I will clear myself to him from design in it. Sat till two o’clock and then home to dinner, and Creed with me, and after dinner, to put off my mind’s trouble, I took Creed by coach and to the Duke’s playhouse, where we did see “The Five Hours” entertainment again, which indeed is a very fine play, though, through my being out of order, it did not seem so good as at first; but I could discern it was not any fault in the play. Thence with him to the China alehouse, and there drank a bottle or two, and so home, where I found my wife and her brother discoursing about Mr. Ashwell’s daughter, whom we are like to have for my wife’s woman, and I hope it may do very well, seeing there is a necessity of having one. So to the office to write letters, and then home to supper and to bed.

out of gas on pay day
out of hours

out of a bottle or two
found out

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 17 January 1662/63.

January 18, 2026January 17, 2026 by Luisa A. Igloria

Stay

river in November light between bare woods and mountain

Certain scents cling 
to your hands, your hair, 
though you've barely touched 

them— citrus spray, garlic 
oil. And there's the way sunlight 
fills a water pitcher at the edge 

of the counter— you wonder at  
that kind of brightness, its taste,  
how you might cup a handful 

before it evaporated. There are 
things whose passing you'll grieve, 
sharp as a shard of laughter 

floating in a hallway long 
after the one who lofted it into 
the air has left. Once, the shape

of the future was a mere speck 
in a wilderness of tomorrows, but
now the light has shifted. Mourn

the wasp that expired to sweeten 
the garden inside the fig, and also
the woolen sock whose mate went

missing. Days later, you find it
tucked into a sheet corner: a message 
saying Not yet gone, not yet gone.

January 17, 2026January 17, 2026 by Luisa A. Igloria

Over the Falls

"I am not of the common daredevil sort..."
                - Annie Edson Taylor, 24 October 1901 



There's a place at the oceanfront 
where you pay sixty dollars to be sucked 

into a vertical wind tunnel simulating free-
fall conditions in a skydive. Or you can find

an instructor to do a tandem jump from a plane
thirteen thousand feet in the air. In 1982,

a man tied forty-five helium balloons to his 
lawn chair and rapidly rose through the air,

disrupting flight traffic near LAX before landing 
in a tangle of power lines. Was it the culmination

of compulsion, a dream he'd always had from 
childhood? I read about Annie, who on her sixty-

third birthday in 1901 thought of going over 
Niagara Falls in a padded barrel with an anvil

for ballast and her cat for company. She lived, 
first human over the falls. Conned by her manager,

she never found fortune and fame, her name 
on a boardwalk tote or trinket, people lining up

for an autograph. Soaked stockings and skirts,
the water's loud hum outpacing her heart, she

walked in a swoon stepping out of that cloister,
the world's drum tumbling as if without end.

January 16, 2026 by Dave Bonta

Addict

Lay long talking in bed with my wife. Up, and Mr. Battersby, the apothecary, coming to see me, I called for the cold chine of beef and made him eat, and drink wine, and talked, there being with us Captain Brewer, the paynter, who tells me how highly the Presbyters do talk in the coffeehouses still, which I wonder at. They being gone I walked two or three hours with my brother Tom, telling him my mind how it is troubled about my father’s concernments, and how things would be with them all if it should please God that I should die, and therefore desire him to be a good husband and follow his business, which I hope he do. At noon to dinner, and after dinner my wife began to talk of a woman again, which I have a mind to have, and would be glad Pall might please us, but she is quite against having her, nor have I any great mind to it, but only for her good and to save money flung away upon a stranger. So to my office till 9 o’clock about my navy manuscripts, and there troubled in my mind more and more about my uncle’s business from a letter come this day from my father that tells me that all his tenants are sued by my uncle, which will cost me some new trouble, I went home to supper and so to bed.

in the pot
cold coffee
I wonder how I should die

I have a mind
to have a mind
but only for a day

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 16 January 1662/63.

January 16, 2026January 16, 2026 by Luisa A. Igloria

Cocktail Hour, Dark Time

Before the small plates even arrive,
one of us asks for recommendations
on who to consult for drawing up  
her will. Another confides: a daughter
urged her to put a Go Bag together. 
What would she put in it? Keys, papers,
meds; snacks, water, change of clothing,
warm jacket, flashlight... But where
would we go? How could we possibly 
rehearse for something we're unsure 
about? The weatherman predicts rain, 
some wind tomorrow. Or it could turn 
into a storm, a blizzard with zero
visibility. I remember the letters
I used to get in the mail from my
mother: thin sheets, blue envelope, 
a little plane aloft in one corner. 
Packed particles of handwriting 
drifting from one line to the next.
They're in my house somewhere.  
How do you leave such things behind? 
When we clink glasses, our sleep-
deprived nights run down our throats.
One of us says, when it's impossible
to go back to bed she gets up and looks 
for something, anything, to do. Fold 
socks, make tea in the kitchen, start 
laundry. Many conditions can exist 
at the same time: terror and wonder, 
heartbreak and hope. Have we always
lived in the flimsy spaces between?

January 15, 2026 by Dave Bonta

Uneasy rider

Up and to my office preparing things, by and by we met and sat Mr. Coventry and I till noon, and then I took him to dine with me, I having a wild goose roasted, and a cold chine of beef and a barrel of oysters. We dined alone in my chamber, and then he and I to fit ourselves for horseback, he having brought me a horse; and so to Deptford, the ways being very dirty. There we walked up and down the Yard and Wett Dock, and did our main business, which was to examine the proof of our new way of the call-books, which we think will be of great use. And so to horse again, and I home with his horse, leaving him to go over the fields to Lambeth, his boy at my house taking home his horse.
I vexed, having left my keys in my other pocket in my chamber, and my door is shut, so that I was forced to set my boy in at the window, which done I shifted myself, and so to my office till late, and then home to supper, my mind being troubled about Field’s business and my uncle’s, which the term coming on I must think to follow again. So to prayers and to bed, and much troubled in mind this night in my dreams about my uncle Thomas and his son going to law with us.

on a wild horse up
and down the roof
of my house

having left my keys
to the field
in a dream

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 15 January 1662/63.

January 15, 2026January 14, 2026 by Luisa A. Igloria

Landscape with Crippled Sheep and Joystick

The sheep's mother said Uh-oh, no, 
perhaps not understanding that 

a disability isn't equivalent 
to a death sentence. And so 

at the farm they cobbled together 
a wheelchair, really a wagon 

on wheels that it learned to drive,
pushing its nose against the joy-

stick. The grass is always greener,
the clover sweeter, over on the other

side. You can talk to the horses
and the cows in the meadow, cause

a chicken commotion, bask in a grove
where gumballs and chestnuts fall.

Apples dot the field with extravagance.
The softer the flesh, the more easily 

bruised. The sweeter the ripening which 
ripens when it's no longer expected.

January 14, 2026 by Dave Bonta

Editorial meeting

Lay very long in bed, till with shame forced to rise, being called up by Mr. Bland about business. He being gone I went and staid upon business at the office and then home to dinner, and after dinner staid a little talking pleasant with my wife, who tells me of another woman offered by her brother that is pretty and can sing, to which I do listen but will not appear over forward, but I see I must keep somebody for company sake to my wife, for I am ashamed she should live as she do. So to the office till 10 at night upon business, and numbering and examining part of my sea-manuscript with great pleasure, my wife sitting working by me. So home to supper and to bed.

a long call to talk
who can sing

I do listen but not
but I must live

at night I am
part manuscript

with my wife
working me up

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 14 January 1662/63.