The wheel and the chariot. The lever,
the nail, the spirit level. That moment
when the earth was unseated as center
of the universe, after who knows how
many scientists were publicly condemned
for pointing out the sun. The feather
and the ball, dropping at the same rate
due to gravity. The compass and the caravelle,
navigation by the stars. The printing press,
moveable type, sewing needles. Pasteurized
milk and clean hands in the surgery. With each
discovery, how we then proclaimed a new
pinnacle of human success. Pyramids and
pagodas, spices and sugar; lower death
rates, cures for most things except
the common cold, avarice, cruelty, and
ego. Who wants the gold medal at the end
of this race? The athlete crumples onto
concrete in a spasm of joy and pain.
Doctoring
All the morning at Portsmouth, at the Pay, and then to dinner, and again to the Pay; and at night got the Doctor to go lie with me, and much pleased with his company; but I was much troubled in my eyes, by reason of the healths I have this day been forced to drink.
morning a mouth
and night the doctor
to ease my eyes
I have a drink
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 25 April 1662.
Ticker
Up and to Sir G. Carteret’s lodgings at Mrs. Stephens’s, where we keep our table all the time we are here. Thence all of us to the Pay-house; but the books not being ready, we went to church to the lecture, where there was my Lord Ormond and Manchester, and much London company, though not so much as I expected. Here we had a very good sermon upon this text: “In love serving one another;” which pleased me very well. No news of the Queen at all. So to dinner; and then to the Pay all the afternoon. Then W. Pen and I walked to the King’s Yard, and there lay at Mr. Tippets’s, where exceeding well treated.
I keep time
in my chest
no love serving
the soft afternoon
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 24 April 1662.
Stream
Look at the birds of the air...
~ Matthew 6:26
They do not sow and neither
do they
reap Nor can they
add or take away
from a single
hour of my life
Yet they
clock the seasons and make
on the sky a moving
wonderment of letters
A language of such
quick punctuation
I understand
is the nature of belief
One wing tilts
The river follows
Vertical Transmission
Meaning through your mother's
bloodstream
at birth
Or through lactation
Mouth closed around a notch
a node
to catch warm
milky spurt
But now you are of
an age
with scant
or nonexistent childhood
records
When did your skin stipple
with so much burn and loneliness
How many years
did you see that double-stranded
shadow
helix behind closed lids
This condition
supposed to be endemic
in your part of the world
Spherical and enveloped
Cells flood the brick-colored organ
Your hands helpless against the
flutter
as if some otherworldly
force came nightly to feast
Then in the morning
the thing grown back
And you
bound to the rock
Your own eternal
observer
Clearing
Up early, and to Petersfield, and there dined well; and thence got a countryman to guide us by Havant, to avoid going through the Forest; but he carried us much out of the way, and upon our coming we sent away an express to Sir W. Batten to stop his coming, which I did project to make good my oath, that my wife should come if any of our wives came, which my Lady Batten did intend to do with her husband. The Doctor and I lay together at Wiard’s, the chyrurgeon’s, in Portsmouth, his wife a very pretty woman. We lay very well and merrily; in the morning, concluding him to be of the eldest blood and house of the Clerkes, because that all the fleas came to him and not to me.
a field in the forest
the press of her mouth
a well of the eldest blood
me and not me
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 23 April 1662.
Minima Naturalia
"...Now the universal whole is a body; for our
senses bear us witness in every case that bodies
have a real existence; and the evidence
of the senses... ought to be the rule of our
reasoning about everything which is not
directly perceived."
- Epicurus, Letter to Herodotus, 39
Unnerving
The clean
puncture
they drove
into your hip
bone
Larger than the eye
of a tapestry needle
smaller than
a bullet hole
If the soul
according to Epicurus
is a rush of atoms
scattered through the body
If the body
like the universe is
indivisible
then
time must slow down
at that atomic level
But sense
perception provides
evidence
Only a blot of dried crimson
on the square of gauze
The soul did not leak
out of the body
Tangible soul
Ethereal body
Who knows if it hid
in the breath
or a follicle of hair
Mental
After taking leave of my wife, which we could hardly do kindly, because of her mind to go along with me, Sir W. Pen and I took coach and so over the bridge to Lambeth, W. Bodham and Tom Hewet going as clerks to Sir W. Pen, and my Will for me. Here we got a dish of buttered eggs, and there staid till Sir G. Carteret came to us from White Hall, who brought Dr. Clerke with him, at which I was very glad, and so we set out, and I was very much pleased with his company, and were very merry all the way. He, among [other] good Storys, telling us a story of the monkey that got hold of the young lady’s cunt as she went to stool to shit, and run from under her coats and got upon the table, which was ready laid for supper and dancing was done. Another about a Hectors crying “God damn you, rascal!” We came to Gilford and there passed our time in the garden, cutting of sparagus for supper, the best that ever I eat in my life but in the house last year. Supped well, and the Doctor and I to bed together, calling cozens from his name and my office.
in my mind
the egg I came from
the story of my life
the doctor I call
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 22 April 1662.
Poetry Blog Digest 2025, Week 16
A personal selection of posts from the Poetry Blogging Network and beyond. 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: sea glass, lilacs, lapwings, catkins, and much more. Enjoy.
Continue reading “Poetry Blog Digest 2025, Week 16”Truant
This morning I attempted to persuade my wife in bed to go to Brampton this week, but she would not, which troubles me, and seeing that I could keep it no longer from her, I told her that I was resolved to go to Portsmouth to-morrow. Sir W. Batten goes to Chatham to-day, and will be back again to come for Portsmouth after us on Thursday next.
I went to Westminster and several places about business. Then at noon dined with my Lord Crew; and after dinner went up to Sir Thos. Crew’s chamber, who is still ill. He tells me how my Lady Duchess of Richmond and Castlemaine had a falling out the other day; and she calls the latter Jane Shore, and did hope to see her come to the same end that she did.
Coming down again to my Lord, he told me that news was come that the Queen is landed; at which I took leave, and by coach hurried to White Hall, the bells ringing in several places; but I found there no such matter, nor anything like it. So I went by appointment to Anthony Joyce’s, where I sat with his wife and Mall Joyce an hour or two, and so her husband not being at home, away I went and in Cheapside spied him and took him into the coach. Home, and there I found my Lady Jemimah, and Anne, and Madamoiselle come to see my wife, whom I left, and to talk with Joyce about a project I have of his and my joyning, to get some money for my brother Tom and his kinswoman to help forward with her portion if they should marry. I mean in buying of tallow of him at a low rate for the King, and Tom should have the profit; but he tells me the profit will be considerable, at which I was troubled, but I have agreed with him to serve some in my absence.
He went away, and then came Mr. Moore and sat late with me talking about business, and so went away and I to bed.
I could become still
on the other shore
end the bells ringing
like cheap joy
get someone to be troubled
in my absence
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 21 April 1662.