Who

Sam Pepys and me

Sir W. Batten, Mr. Pett, and I at the office sitting all the morning. So dined at home, and then to my office again, causing the model hanging in my chamber to be taken down and hung up in my office, for fear of being spoilt by the workmen, and for my own convenience of studying it.
This afternoon I had a letter from Mr. Creed, who hath escaped narrowly in the King’s yacht, and got safe to the Downs after the late storm; and that there the King do tell him, that he is sure that my Lord is landed at Callis safe, of which being glad, I sent news thereof to my Lord Crew, and by the post to my Lady into the country. This afternoon I went to Westminster; and there hear that the King and Queen intend to come to White Hall from Hampton Court next week, for all winter. Thence to Mrs. Sarah, and there looked over my Lord’s lodgings, which are very pretty; and White Hall garden and the Bowling-ally (where lords and ladies are now at bowles), in brave condition. Mrs. Sarah told me how the falling out between my Lady Castlemaine and her Lord was about christening of the child lately, which he would have, and had done by a priest: and, some days after, she had it again christened by a minister; the King, and Lord of Oxford, and Duchesse of Suffolk, being witnesses: and christened with a proviso, that it had not already been christened. Since that she left her Lord, carrying away every thing in the house; so much as every dish, and cloth, and servant but the porter. He is gone discontented into France, they say, to enter a monastery; and now she is coming back again to her house in Kingstreet. But I hear that the Queen did prick her out of the list presented her by the King; desiring that she might have that favour done her, or that he would send her from whence she come: and that the King was angry and the Queen discontented a whole day and night upon it; but that the King hath promised to have nothing to do with her hereafter. But I cannot believe that the King can fling her off so, he loving her too well: and so I writ this night to my Lady to be my opinion; she calling her my lady, and the lady I admire. Here I find that my Lord hath lost the garden to his lodgings, and that it is turning into a tennis-court.
Hence by water to the Wardrobe to see how all do there, and so home to supper and to bed.

who after a storm
is sure of being new

an owl christened with day
is calling in the garden


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 26 July 1662.

Land office business

Sam Pepys and me

At the office all the morning, reading Mr. Holland’s discourse of the Navy, lent me by Mr. Turner, and am much pleased with them, they hitting the very diseases of the Navy, which we are troubled with now-a-days. I shall bestow writing of them over and much reading thereof.
This morning Sir W. Batten came in to the office and desired to speak with me; he began by telling me that he observed a strangeness between him and me of late, and would know the reason of it, telling me he heard that I was offended with merchants coming to his house and making contracts there. I did tell him that as a friend I had spoke of it to Sir W. Pen and desired him to take a time to tell him of it, and not as a backbiter, with which he was satisfied, but I find that Sir W. Pen has played the knave with me, and not told it from me as a friend, but in a bad sense. He also told me that he heard that exceptions were taken at his carrying his wife down to Portsmouth, saying that the King should not pay for it, but I denied that I had spoke of it, nor did I. At last he desired the difference between our wives might not make a difference between us, which I was exceedingly glad to hear, and do see every day the fruit of looking after my business, which I pray God continue me in, for I do begin to be very happy. Dined at home, and so to the office all the afternoon again, and at night home and to bed.

at the land office
a red peak

making tracts
as red as that pen

in a bad mouth
the fruit of the afternoon


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 25 July 1662.

Lake View, with a Line from Hopkins

river in November light between bare woods and mountain

The blue and yellow trampoline float
is upside down in the water, a few
feet away from the dock. High winds
from a day before did that. But it's
still weighted down by its anchor.
If I could swim I might help go out
to right it. Instead we sit on plastic
chairs as the sun goes down and flocks
of geese honk in the traffic of their
own making before they take to the sky.
The surface of the lake reflects sound and
light like a mirror— like shining from shook
foil. The path back to the cottage is marked
with feathers and stubs of deep green droppings.

Queen Bee

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
Over lunch, I listened to the teacher's
story about coming out of a terrible year
of postpartum depression, and how it led her
to beekeeping. As it is when we are learning
something new, there were mistakes. In her case,
she was stung so many times, but each time
seemed almost a revelation— the burn and welt,
the sharp, hot swelling somehow the body's way
of saying You're still here, you can feel things;
you haven't turned to stone.
In a fairy tale,
an entire castle's occupants are delivered from
enchantment when a queen bee helps the quester
figure out which of three sleeping princesses
is the youngest— settling on the one whose
lips were ambered by the last sweet thing
she ate. You might have heard the sound
of walls stretching, overflowing.

Fogged in

Sam Pepys and me

Up early this morning sending the things to the carrier’s, and my boy, who goes to-day, though his mistress do not till next Monday.
All the morning at the office, Sir W. Batten being come to town last night. I hear, to my great content, that my Lord Sandwich is safe landed in France. Dined at our chamber, where W. Bowyer with us, and after much simple talk with him, I left him, and to my office, where all the afternoon busy till 9 at night, among other things improving my late experiment at Woolwich about hemp. So home and to bed.

this morning mist
in my tent
is safe with us
with no
other wool


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 24 July 1662.

Perpetuum Mobile

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
Were you, too, born for the job? One
foot before the other, remembering

every so often to straighten your spine?
And is it merely weakness to give up

this month's collection of worldly goods
only to fall in love with the heart-

shaped leaves in a plant store window, cunning
holographic tiles (only plastic, but still)

that fold and collapse into a purse? The world
is going to pieces but maybe we could finish

a few of the projects we promised we'd
complete. At least we tell ourselves that,

as we get out of bed to the sun's applause
and drawn curtains eclipse the long dark.

Addict

Sam Pepys and me

This morning angry a little in the morning, and my house being so much out of order makes me a little pettish. I went to the office, and there dispatched business by myself, and so again in the afternoon; being a little vexed that my brother Tom, by his neglect, do fail to get a coach for my wife and maid this week, by which she will not be at Brampton Feast, to meet my Lady at my father’s. At night home, and late packing up things in order to their going to Brampton to-morrow, and so to bed, quite out of sorts in my mind by reason that the weather is so bad, and my house all full of wet, and the trouble of going from one house to another to Sir W. Pens upon every occasion. Besides much disturbed by reason of the talk up and down the town, that my Lord Sandwich is lost; but I trust in God the contrary.

a little morning again
in the afternoon

a thin bed
out of my mind

my house full of pens
that lost trust in god


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 23 July 1662.

Stormed

Sam Pepys and me

Among my workmen early: then to the office, and there I had letters from the Downs from Mr. Coventry; who tells me of the foul weather they had last Sunday, that drove them back from near Boulogne, whither they were going for the Queen, back again to the Downs, with the loss of their cables, sayles, and masts; but are all safe, only my Lord Sandwich, who went before with the yachts; they know not what is become of him, which do trouble me much; but I hope he got ashore before the storm begun; which God grant!
All day at the office, only at home at dinner, where I was highly angry with my wife for her keys being out of the way, but they were found at last, and so friends again. All the afternoon answering letters and writing letters, and at night to Mr. Coventry an ample letter in answer to all his and the Duke’s business.
Late at night at the office, where my business is great, being now all alone in town, but I shall go through it with pleasure. So home and to bed.

foul weather
whither we go

as sand before the storm
or keys in the oven

let us late at night
atone in town


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 22 July 1662.

Next Phase

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
How much clearer does it need to be? 

Almost every day now, flood warnings.
Sidewalks stipple with crepe myrtle

blooms after each hard rain; then

the trunks of trees start exfoliating.
In the Himalayas, a glacier lake bursts,

emptying into the valleys below. Unlike
some animals around whose necks we've

managed to string bells, catastrophe rarely

announces its arrival. When you startle from
sleep, your brain is a balloon that gradually

leaks helium before drifting to the floor.

All the people walking among the topiary
in period costumes have disappeared.