Green sleeves

Sam Pepys and me

Up betimes and among my joyners, and to my office, where the joyners are also laying mouldings in the inside of my closet.
Then abroad and by water to White Hall, and there got Sir G. Carteret to sign me my last quarter’s bills for my wages, and meeting with Mr. Creed he told me how my Lord Teviott hath received another attaque from Guyland at Tangier with 10,000 men, and at last, as is said, is come, after a personal treaty with him, to a good understanding and peace with him.
Thence to my brother’s, and there told him how my girl has served us which he sent me, and directed him to get my clothes again, and get the girl whipped.
So to other places by the way about small businesses, and so home, and after looking over all my workmen, I went by water and land to Deptford, and there found by appointment Sir W. Batten, but he was got to Mr. Waith’s to dinner, where I dined with him, a good dinner and good discourse, and his wife, I believe, a good woman. We fell in discourse of Captain Cocke, and how his lady has lost all her fine linen almost, but besides that they say she gives out she had 3000l. worth of linen, which we all laugh at, and Sir W. Batten (who I perceive is not so fond of the Captain as he used to be, and less of her, from her slight receiving of him and his lady it seems once) told me how he should say that he see he must spend 700l. per ann. get it how he could, which was a high speech, and by all men’s discover, his estate not good enough to spend so much.
After dinner altered our design to go to Woolwich, and put it off to to-morrow morning, and so went all to Greenwich (Mrs. Waith excepted, who went thither, but not to the same house with us, but to her father’s, that lives there), to the musique-house, where we had paltry musique, till the master organist came, whom by discourse I afterwards knew, having employed him for my Lord Sandwich, to prick out something (his name Arundell), and he did give me a fine voluntary or two, and so home by water, and at home I find my girl that run away brought by a bedel of St. Bride’s Parish, and stripped her and sent her away, and a newe one come, of Griffin’s helping to, which I think will prove a pretty girl. Her name, Susan, and so to supper after having this evening paid Mr. Hunt 3l. for my viall (besides the carving which I paid this day 10s. for to the carver), and he tells me that I may, without flattery, say, I have as good a Theorbo viall and viallin as is in England. So to bed.

mold in my closet
and all my clothes lost

fine linen as green
as water in Paris

which I think will prove
pretty for my violin


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 21 August 1663.

Homebodies

Sam Pepys and me

Up betimes and to my office (having first been angry with my brother John, and in the heat of my sudden passion called him Asse and coxcomb, for which I am sorry, it being but for leaving the key of his chamber with a spring lock within side of his door), and there we sat all the morning, and at noon dined at home, and there found a little girl, which she told my wife her name was Jinny, by which name we shall call her. I think a good likely girl, and a parish child of St. Bride’s, of honest parentage, and recommended by the churchwarden.
After dinner among my joyners laying my floors, which please me well, and so to my office, and we sat this afternoon upon an extraordinary business of victualling.
In the evening came Commissioner Pett, who fell foule on mee for my carriage to him at Chatham, wherein, after protestation of my love and good meaning to him, he was quiet; but I doubt he will not be able to do the service there that any other man of his ability would.
Home in the evening my viall (and lute new strung being brought home too), and I would have paid Mr. Hunt for it, but he did not come along with it himself, which I expected and was angry for it, so much is it against my nature to owe anything to any body. This evening the girle that was brought to me to-day for so good a one, being cleansed of lice this day by my wife, and good, new clothes put on her back, she run away from Goody Taylour that was shewing her the way to the bakehouse, and we heard no more of her.
So to supper and to bed.

a sudden passion
in the key of spring

we go like joiners
laying floors

for a quiet home body
cleansed of clothes


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 20 August 1663.

Old Soul, New Life

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
~ after Kalehua Kim


you must have been born an old soul, they said

old soul, old woman wrapped in swaddling clothes?

i was old when i was born—born out of old quarrels

i didn't see— but i felt them, so i will say quarrels

a quarrel's a trap from which you try to seek escape

you escaped to a new city, but your old soul followed

—perhaps there's no real escape, only cycles

you're part of the cycle, and so your daughters are, too

your daughters' souls, made of what's both old and new

take old and new, spin them like clay into each other on the wheel

old paths lead the old soul to thickets of inaction and despair

so dress the old soul in sparrows' wings, clear nights, new thoughts

get dressed, refuse the old garment that keeps taunting you

embrace again this new old life that isn't all tatters yet— hold

lightly what your old soul learned of this world—nakem, heart


Heat Haibun

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
Every weather map these days looks roughly colored in
with only red and orange crayons. In Korea, farmers dig
up potatoes from a field and find them boiled to mush.
Dogs pant, tongues raspy with thirst and sadness. Every
mail box and railing is metallic with the smell of coins left
too long in the sun. Clay pots and veranda tiles crack,
asphalt softens into black puddles on the road. Cicadas
crank up their desperate chorus in the trees, as though
their volume might ignite a breeze. They don't surrender,
though they shake off their jackets.

Is there a lesson?
Is it about lightness, or
what the heart can bear?



Disordered

Sam Pepys and me

Up betimes, and my wife up and about the house, Susan beginning to have her drunken tricks, and put us in mind of her old faults and folly and distractednesse, which we had forgot, so that I became mightily troubled with her. This morning came my joyners to new lay the floors, and begun with the dining room.
I out and see my viall again, and it is very well, and to Mr. Hollyard, and took some pills of him and a note under his hand to drink wine with my beere, without which I was obliged, by my private vowe, to drink none a good while, and have strictly observed it, and by my drinking of small beere and not eating, I am so mightily troubled with wind, that I know not what to do almost.
Thence to White Hall, and there met Mr. Moore, and fell a-talking about my Lord’s folly at Chelsey, and it was our discourse by water to London and to the great coffee house against the Exchange, where we sat a good while talking; and I find that my lord is wholly given up to this wench, who it seems has been reputed a common strumpett. I have little encouragement from Mr. Moore to meddle with it to tell my Lord, for fear it may do him no good, but me hurt.
Thence homewards, taking leave of him, and met Tom Marsh, my old acquaintance at Westminster, who talks mightily of the honour of his place, being Clerke Assistant to the Clerke of the House of Commons, and I take him to be a coxcombe, and so did give him half a pint of wine, but drink none myself, and so got shut of him. So home, and there found my wife almost mad with Susan’s tricks, so as she is forced to let her go and leave the house all in dirt and the clothes all wet, and gets Goody Taylour to do the business for her till another comes. Here came Will Howe, and he and I alone in my chamber talking of my Lord, who drives me out of love to my Lord to tell my Lord of the matter we discoursed of, which tend so much to the ruin of his state, and so I resolved to take a good heart and do whatever comes of it. He gone, we sat down and eat a bit of dinner fetched from the cooke’s, and so up again and to my joyners, who will make my floors very handsome. By and by comes in Pembleton, which begun to make me sweat, but I did give him so little countenance, and declared at one word against dancing any more, and bid him a short (God be with you) myself, and so he took as short a leave of my wife and so went away, and I think without any time of receiving any great satisfaction from my wife or invitation to come again.
To my office till it was dark doing business, and so home by candle light to make up my accounts for my Lord and Mr. Moore. By and by comes Mr. Moore to me, and staid a good while with me making up his accounts and mine, and we did not come to any end therein for want of his papers, and so put it off to another time.
He supped with me in all my dirt and disorder, and so went away and we to bed.
I discoursed with him a great while about my speaking to my Lord of his business, and I apprehend from him that it is likely to prove perhaps of bad effect to me and no good to him, and therefore I shall even let it alone and let God do his will, at least till my Lord is in the country, and then we shall see whether he resolves to come to Chelsey again or no, and so order the stopping of him therein if we can.

distractedness became
my new floor

I took pills
troubled as a trumpet

it hurt to give
myself to the dirt

alone in my love
of ruin

dancing away by candlelight
all my disorder


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 19 August 1663.

Family values

Sam Pepys and me

Up and to my office, where we sat all the morning. And at noon home, and my father came and dined with me, Susan being come and helped my wife to dress dinner. After dinner my father and I talked about our country-matters, and in fine I find that he thinks 50l. per ann. will go near to keep them all, which I am glad of. He having taken his leave of me and my wife without any mention of the differences between them and my wife in the country, I went forth to several places about businesses, and so home again, and after prayers to bed.

dinner after dinner
my father and I talk

out-think them all
without any mention

of the differences
we pray to


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 18 August 1663.

Corpse Flower

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
~ Amorphophallus titanum

The week we were away, we missed
the moment the corpse flower finally
opened at the botanical gardens.
Its signature scent of rotten meat
comes from cadaverine and putrescine,
compounds that attract fruit flies and
beetles. The insects think they've lucked out
on carrion, and will pick up and scatter pollen
on their way out. On our return, almost
everyone we knew had stood in the line
snaking past the orchid displays in the lobby,
out the glass doors and into the parking lot
where someone's child was throwing
a tantrum and begging to go home.
They had bought tickets, of course—
one night only! As though the flower
had agreed to this cabaret, and everyone
was just waiting for the drumroll moment
when the spathe heated up like a microwave
and the spadix pushed out of its ruffled velvet
skirts to spread redolence in the air. Isn't that
how it is, though? We jostle our way through
the crowd, rubberneck at the highway collision,
wanting to know exactly what it looks and smells
like, this mysterious occurrence called death:
hiding in plain sight, inside life's dark mouth.

Loner

Sam Pepys and me

Up, and then fell into discourse, my wife and I to Ashwell, and much against my will I am fain to express a willingness to Ashwell that she should go from us, and yet in my mind I am glad of it, to ease me of the charge. So she is to go to her father this day. And leaving my wife and her talking highly, I went away by coach with Sir J. Minnes and Sir W. Batten to St. James’s, and there attended of course the Duke. And so to White Hall, where I met Mr. Moore, and he tells me with great sorrow of my lord’s being debauched he fears by this woman at Chelsey, which I am troubled at, and resolve to speak to him of it if I can seasonably.
Thence home, where I dined, and after dinner comes our old mayde Susan to look for a gorgett that she says she has lost by leaving it here, and by many circumstances it being clear to me that Hannah, our present cook-mayde, not only has it, but had it on upon her necke when Susan came in, and shifted it off presently upon her coming in, I did charge her so home with it (having a mind to have her gone from us), that in a huff she told us she would be gone to-night if I would pay her her wages, which I was glad and my wife of, and so fetched her her wages, and though I am doubtful that she may convey some things away with her clothes, my wife searching them, yet we are glad of her being so gone, and so she went away in a quarter of an hour’s time. Being much amused at this to have never a maid but Ashwell, that we do not intend to keep, nor a boy, and my wife and I being left for an hour, till my brother came in, alone in the house, I grew very melancholy, and so my brother being come in I went forth to Mrs. Holden’s, to whom I formerly spoke about a girle to come to me instead of a boy, and the like I did to Mrs. Standing and also to my brother Tom, whom I found at an alehouse in Popinjay ally drinking, and I standing with him at the gate of the ally, Ashwell came by, and so I left Tom and went almost home with her, talking of her going away. I find that she is willing to go, and told her (though behind my back my wife has told her that it was more my desire than hers that she should go, which was not well), that seeing my wife and she could not agree I did choose rather (was she my sister) have her gone, it would be better for us and for her too. To which she willing agreed, and will not tell me anything but that she do believe that my wife would have some body there that might not be so liable to give me information of things as she takes her to be. But, however, I must labour to prevent all that.
I parted with her near home, agreeing to take no notice of my coming along with her, and so by and by came home after her.
Where I find a sad distracted house, which troubles me. However, to supper and prayers and to bed. And while we were getting to bed my wife began to discourse to her, and plainly asked whether she had got a place or no. And the other answered that she could go if we would to one of our own office, to which we agreed if she would. She thereupon said no; she would not go to any but where she might teach children, because of keeping herself in use of what things she had learned, which she do not here nor will there, but only dressing. By which I perceive the wench is cunning, but one very fit for such a place, and accomplished to be woman to any lady in the land. So quietly to sleep, it being a cold night.
But till my house is settled, I do not see that I can mind my business of the office, which grieves me to the heart. But I hope all will over in a little time, and I hope to the best. This day at Mrs. Holden’s I found my new low crowned beaver according to the present fashion made, and will be sent home to-morrow.

in sorrow season
I lost my way

being so much alone
I grew to like it

as with any art
that children learn

a cold settled in my heart
I hold on


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 17 August 1663.

Poetry Blog Digest 2026, Week 33

Poetry Blogging Network

A personal selection of posts from around the Anglophone blogosphere, including Substack, with a commitment to following a somewhat haphazardly chosen selection of poets, poetry lovers, literary critics and publishers over time. 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: a bowl of heat, the musicality of machines, an Emily Dickinson pilgrimage, the slow rebuilding of the world, and much more. Enjoy.

Continue reading “Poetry Blog Digest 2026, Week 33”

Dividing by Zero

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
"It was the only life I had." ~ Jane Kenyon

Carrots and cabbages
dumped on the side of the mountain
road, because the farmers can't
afford to transport them
to market.

Such overflow of
abundance, in these days
holding mostly rain. This remainder,
not even subtracted from itself,
and still it comes to nought.