the midrib of the year, quavering bone
dividing the rooms into before and after.
Or, history and who knows what comes
next. The stoics argue that you should never
allow the future to disturb you, for it will come
to meet us, regardless. Or you'll run into it
first, depending on your willingness to receive
without nostalgia. Morning light tints the walls
the same color as what leaks into the streets.
You swing your feet over the side of the bed
and they look for slippers, as if they had that
small, separate autonomy. What does it mean
to live without asking, or expectation? You arms
slide into sleeves, lift a cup of water to your lips.
Fragmental
Up and my office, there conning my measuring Ruler, which I shall grow a master of in a very little time. At noon to the Exchange and so home to dinner, and abroad with my wife by water to the Royall Theatre; and there saw “The Committee,” a merry but indifferent play, only Lacey’s part, an Irish footman, is beyond imagination. Here I saw my Lord Falconbridge, and his Lady, my Lady Mary Cromwell, who looks as well as I have known her, and well clad; but when the House began to fill she put on her vizard, and so kept it on all the play; which of late is become a great fashion among the ladies, which hides their whole face.
So to the Exchange, to buy things with my wife; among others, a vizard for herself. And so by water home and to my office to do a little business, and so to see Sir W. Pen, but being going to bed and not well I could not see him. So home and to supper and bed, being mightily troubled all night and next morning with the palate of my mouth being down from some cold I took to-day sitting sweating in the playhouse, and the wind blowing through the windows upon my head.
in heat beyond imagination
a falcon I could not see
and all night a cold wind
blowing through my head
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 12 June 1663.
It was
hotter today in the southeast than it was
in south Texas, according to the news.
The difference between dry heat and humid
heat isn't a matter of philosophical degree.
In 1911, train tracks buckled in the heat
and roads paved with tar turned syrupy.
As summer wears on and El Niño takes
hold, heat index charts are mostly fiery
orange. If it's not heat, it'll be lightning
strikes or tornados. In the great heat
wave of 1936, clouds of blistered grass-
hoppers fell through Midwest skies. A line
in Revelation describes a sea of glass mingled
with fire, no fleet of cruise ships at the ports.
Unsatisfactory
Up and spent most of the morning upon my measuring Ruler and with great pleasure I have found out some things myself of great dispatch, more than my book teaches me, which pleases me mightily. Sent my wife’s things and the wine to-day by the carrier to my father’s, but staid my boy from a letter of my father’s, wherein he desires that he may not come to trouble his family as he did the last year.
Dined at home and then to the office, where we sat all the afternoon, and at night home and spent the evening with my wife, and she and I did jangle mightily about her cushions that she wrought with worsteds the last year, which are too little for any use, but were good friends by and by again. But one thing I must confess I do observe, which I did not before, which is, that I cannot blame my wife to be now in a worse humour than she used to be, for I am taken up in my talk with Ashwell, who is a very witty girl, that I am not so fond of her as I used and ought to be, which now I do perceive I will remedy, but I would to the Lord I had never taken any, though I cannot have a better than her. To supper and to bed. The consideration that this is the longest day in the year is very unpleasant to me. This afternoon my wife had a visit from my Lady Jeminah and Mr. Ferrers.
measuring pleasure
I have found more aches
wine that may not last
the afternoon
cushions that are too little
for any use
friends that I am not
so fond of now
on the longest day in the year
unpleasant to visit
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 11 June 1663.
Transformative
Up and all the morning helping my wife to put up her things towards her going into the country and drawing the wine out of my vessel to send.
This morning came my cozen Thomas Pepys to desire me to furnish him with some money, which I could not do till his father has wrote to Piggott his consent to the sale of his lands, so by and by we parted and I to the Exchange a while and so home and to dinner, and thence to the Royal Theatre by water, and landing, met with Captain Ferrers his friend, the little man that used to be with him, and he with us, and sat by us while we saw “Love in a Maze.” The play is pretty good, but the life of the play is Lacy’s part, the clown, which is most admirable; but for the rest, which are counted such old and excellent actors, in my life I never heard both men and women so ill pronounce their parts, even to my making myself sick therewith.
Thence, Creed happening to be with us, we four to the Half–Moon Tavern, I buying some sugar and carrying it with me, which we drank with wine and thence to the whay-house, and drank a great deal of whay, and so by water home, and thence to see Sir W. Pen, who is not in much pain, but his legs swell and so immoveable that he cannot stir them, but as they are lifted by other people and I doubt will have another fit of his late pain. Played a little at cards with him and his daughter, who is grown every day a finer and finer lady, and so home to supper and to bed.
When my wife and I came first home we took Ashwell and all the rest below in the cellar with the vintner drawing out my wine, which I blamed Ashwell much for and told her my mind that I would not endure it, nor was it fit for her to make herself equal with the ordinary servants of the house.
going into the country
one could land
in the little life of a clown
for old women
the half moon so moveable
as they play at cards
every day in the cellar
with the wine of the house
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 10 June 1663.
It was
the luck of the draw. Fortune you can acknowledge,
as long as it's good. A handful of luck supposedly
brings you more than a sackful of wisdom. Lucky
to be in the right place at the right time, rubbing
elbows with the (right/wrong) people. Then again,
what worse luck could your bad luck have saved
you from? No cat crossed your path, no bathroom
mirror fell and shattered on the floor. Add up all
the numerals in your house number. If the total
is a round number, congratulations. It seems
you made a sound real estate choice. Whereas
one day, the furniture and belongings of the people
who lived three houses down got thrown out on
the curb. Random or not, that was not lucky.
It was
just a joke, wasn't meant to be serious.
Why can't you lighten up, why be so thin-
skinned? It's so unnecessary. Couldn't you
just laugh along, be a good sport? It's just life.
It's the loudest voice that gets to go on stage
under the spotlights. It's the ones that say
they went on their knees and then a vision
opened up of what God intends for them. Amen.
A Destiny made Manifest. It was a skirmish, not
a fullblown war. It was for your own good. You
wouldn't be here now enjoying the four seasons—
summers picking vegetables and fruit, following
the salmon in fall. Jumping trains winter and
spring, in this big country of big, blonde men.
Nonconformist
Up and after ordering some things towards my wife’s going into the country, to the office, where I spent the morning upon my measuring rules very pleasantly till noon, and then comes Creed and he and I talked about mathematiques, and he tells me of a way found out by Mr. Jonas Moore which he calls duodecimal arithmetique, which is properly applied to measuring, where all is ordered by inches, which are 12 in a foot, which I have a mind to learn.
So he with me home to dinner and after dinner walk in the garden, and then we met at the office, where Coventry, Sir J. Minnes, and I, and so in the evening, business done, I went home and spent my time till night with my wife.
Presently after my coming home comes Pembleton, whether by appointment or no I know not, or whether by a former promise that he would come once before my wife’s going into the country, but I took no notice of, let them go up and Ashwell with them to dance, which they did, and I staid below in my chamber, but, Lord! how I listened and laid my ear to the door, and how I was troubled when I heard them stand still and not dance. Anon they made an end and had done, and so I suffered him to go away, and spoke not to him, though troubled in my mind, but showed no discontent to my wife, believing that this is the last time I shall be troubled with him.
So my wife and I to walk in the garden, home and to supper and to bed.
after some war
the rules come out
and I learn to walk at night
after my appointment with the door
I stand still and dance
in my mind
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 9 June 1663.
Empty-landed
Up and to my office a while, and thence by coach with Sir J. Minnes to St. James’s to the Duke, where Mr. Coventry and us two did discourse with the Duke a little about our office business, which saved our coming in the afternoon, and so to rights home again and to dinner. After dinner my wife and I had a little jangling, in which she did give me the lie, which vexed me, so that finding my talking did but make her worse, and that her spirit is lately come to be other than it used to be, and now depends upon her having Ashwell by her, before whom she thinks I shall not say nor do anything of force to her, which vexes me and makes me wish that I had better considered all that I have of late done concerning my bringing my wife to this condition of heat, I went up vexed to my chamber and there fell examining my new concordance, that I have bought, with Newman’s, the best that ever was out before, and I find mine altogether as copious as that and something larger, though the order in some respects not so good, that a man may think a place is missing, when it is only put in another place.
Up by and by my wife comes and good friends again, and to walk in the garden and so anon to supper and to bed. My cozen John Angier the son, of Cambridge coming to me late to see me, and I find his business is that he would be sent to sea, but I dissuaded him from it, for I will not have to do with it without his friends’ consent.
the right to be other
than I used to be
depends upon having
nothing that is mine
and some may think
a place is missing
when it is only put
in another place
a walk in the garden
becoming sea
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 8 June 1663.
It was
all those years of managing. With a capital
M. By myself. As in, taking on the various jobs
of accountant, short order cook, paper shredder,
juggler, on-call first responder. I told myself, breathless
just meant I was getting things done. A trip downstairs
meant an ocular survey of what I could check off my list
both going and coming. Lug a load of laundry, start
the machine. Empty the old coffee filter. Drain the catch
basket. Put away clean dishes. Toss the half-bottle of fizzy
water gone flat. Charge the twin pack of weed whacker
batteries. I have perhaps a B average on bathroom stall
refinishing, but an A+ on bidet install. At the grocery,
there are marked-down trays of fish or chicken labeled
Manager's Special. In my case, Hell yeah.

