has tears in her eyes, from all the suffering
in the world. The Bodhisattva is supposed
to show me how to deal with all the pain
I also see, the suffering in my life and
in others' lives. But I can only have
empathy and compassion if I feel connected
instead of detached, apprehend the exact
shape of what hurts or is heavy. Not as idea
or abstraction but as throb, constriction,
a knot in the middle of my chest that keeps me
awake through the night. What to do, what to do,
when we are asked to see things clearly
for what they are, instead of clouded
by judgment and the many illusions of desire?
The Bodhisattva of compassion has decided
to postpone her own transcendence into Nirvana,
in order to help all sentient beings. Salt
gathers at the corners of my eyes, perhaps
even at nerve endings. Pay attention, she says;
stay and hold the ache in place until
it softens. Detachment isn't abandonment.
It means letting the pain be pain
while standing close and not looking away.
Strapped
Up betimes, and after talking with my father awhile, I to my office, and there hard at it till almost noon, and then went down the river with Maynes, the purveyor, to show a ship’s lading of Norway goods, and called at Sir W. Warren’s yard, and so home to dinner.
After dinner up with my wife and Ashwell a little to the Tryangle, and so I down to Deptford by land about looking out a couple of catches fitted to be speedily set forth in answer to a letter of Mr. Coventry’s to me. Which done, I walked back again, all the way reading of my book of Timber measure, comparing it with my new Sliding Rule brought home this morning with great pleasure.
Taking boat again I went to Shishe’s yard, but he being newly gone out towards Deptford I followed him thither again, and there seeing him I went with him and pitched upon a couple, and so by water home, it being late, past 8 at night, the wind cold, and I a little weary. So home to my office, then to supper and bed.
times hard
as timber
as again she’s gone
out to follow an itch
late at night
the wind cold
and I a little oh
to the upper bed
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 15 April 1663.
Broken record
Up betimes to my office, where busy till 8 o’clock that Sir W. Batten, Sir J. Minnes, Sir W. Pen and I down by barge to Woolwich, to see “The Royal James” launched, where she has been under repair a great while. We staid in the yard till almost noon, and then to Mr. Falconer’s to a dinner of fish of our own sending, and when it was just ready to come upon the table, word is brought that the King and Duke are come, so they all went away to shew themselves, while I staid and had a little dish or two by myself, resolving to go home, and by the time I had dined they came again, having gone to little purpose, the King, I believe, taking little notice of them. So they to dinner, and I staid a little with them, and so good bye. I walked to Greenwich, studying the slide rule for measuring of timber, which is very fine. Thence to Deptford by water, and walked through the yard, and so walked to Redriffe, and so home pretty weary, to my office, where anon they all came home, the ship well launched, and so sat at the office till 9 at night, and I longer doing business at my office, and so home to supper, my father being come, and to bed.
Sir G. Carteret tells me to-night that he perceives the Parliament is likely to make a great bustle before they will give the King any money; will call all things into question; and, above all, the expences of the Navy; and do enquire into the King’s expences everywhere, and into the truth of the report of people being forced to sell their bills at 15 per cent. loss in the Navy; and, lastly, that they are in a very angry pettish mood at present, and not likely to be better.
down under repair
our own little dish
and the time again
gone to little purpose
I believe in little
in a little green yard
where night will call
things into question
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 14 April 1663.
Footnotes
See:
Orpheus, who learned
too late that looking back
can be fatal.
See:
Plato, who gave us the tale of humans
as originally whole, round with four
arms, four legs, two faces.
See:
How the gods were shook by the thought
of what could happen if these four-
limbed beings challenged them.
See:
How of course, after we were split in half
like melons, even in bed side by side, each
half longed perennially for the other.
See:
Sisyphus, who didn't start out
doing it for cardio, but most
likely looked ripped.
See:
The grocery cart with one
bad wheel, barging away from the meat
and into the vegetable display.
See also:
Time, which doesn't make sense
however way you cut it, and yourself,
making sense where you can.
Dissonant
Up by five o’clock and to my office, where hard at work till towards noon, and home and eat a bit, and so going out met with Mr. Mount my old acquaintance, and took him in and drank a glass or two of wine to him and so parted, having not time to talk together, and I with Sir W. Batten to the Stillyard, and there eat a lobster together, and Wyse the King’s fishmonger coming in we were very merry half an hour, and so by water to Whitehall, and by and by being all met we went in to the Duke and there did our business and so away, and anon to the Tangier Committee, where we had very fine discourse from Dr. Walker and Wiseman, civilians, against our erecting a court-merchant at Tangier, and well answered in many things by my Lord Sandwich (whose speaking I never till now observed so much to be very good) and Sir R. Ford.
By and by the discourse being ended, we fell to my Lord Rutherford’s dispatch, which do not please him, he being a Scott, and one resolved to scrape every penny that he can get by any way, which the Committee will not agree to. He took offence at something and rose away, without taking leave of the board, which all took ill, though nothing said but only by the Duke of Albemarle, who said that we ought to settle things as they ought to be, and if he will not go upon these terms another man will, no doubt. Here late, quite finishing things against his going, and so rose, and I walked home, being accompanied by Creed to Temple Bar, talking of this afternoon’s passage, and so I called at the Wardrobe in my way home, and there spoke at the Horn tavern with Mr. Moore a word or two, but my business was with Mr. Townsend, who is gone this day to his country house, about sparing Charles Pepys some money of his bills due to him when he can, but missing him lost my labour.
So walked home, finding my wife abroad, at my aunt, Wight’s, who coming home by and by, I home to supper and to bed.
my old acquaintance
wine and I
still together
and the king’s fish
all in a well
who said we ought to settle
they ought to doubt
a war horn
with one country lost
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 13 April 1663.
Poetry Blog Digest 2026, Week 15
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: a piebald crow, seven bloodroot blossoms, the agèd state of words, the fine grain of life, and much more. Enjoy.
Continue reading “Poetry Blog Digest 2026, Week 15”The Waiting
There are things I can do
and things over which I have
no influence. I can mail care
packages and transfer funds, check
in even if I don't get a response.
That winter, a weight arrived
uninvited and stayed. I know
I can't erase the accumulation
of hours the body has
already lived— a long chain
of hallways from whose windows
you glimpsed a train
whistling through the tracks,
the frozen landscape. All I want
for you is a normal life,
by which I mean mornings that don't
require courage, afternoons moving
forward without obstruction,
nights when sleep doesn't need
to be won by exhaustion. I scour
my world for words to hold
against its unforgivingness,
for words to lift without denying
the fires walked through, the wounds
and barbs. Since prayer is more
than asking, is waiting, then I wait for
the tender spots to show themselves
again, for the drain to clear and water
give itself so the spirit rinses even
just enough suffering from the day.
Chronophobia
(Lord’s day). Lay till 8 o’clock, which I have not done a great while, then up and to church, where I found our pew altered by taking some of the hind pew to make ours bigger, because of the number of women, more by Sir J. Minnes company than we used to have.
Home to dinner, and after dinner, intending to go to Chelsey to my Lord Sandwich, my wife would needs go with me, though she walked on foot to Whitehall. Which she did and staid at my Lord’s lodgings while Creed and I took a turn at Whitehall, but no coach to be had, and so I returned to them and sat talking till evening, and then got a coach and to Gray’s Inn walks, where some handsome faces, and so home and there to supper, and a little after 8 o’clock to bed, a thing I have not done God knows when.
Coming home to-night, a drunken boy was carrying by our constable to our new pair of stocks to handsel them, being a new pair and very handsome.
a clock taking
some bigger number on
while I turn and return
talking the walk
face coming home
to a pair of hands
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 12 April 1663.
Preparation
Up betimes and to my office, where we sat also all the morning till noon, and then home to dinner, my father being there but not very well. After dinner in comes Captain Lambert of the Norwich, this day come from Tangier, whom I am glad to see. There came also with him Captain Wager, and afterwards in came Captain Allen to see me, of the Resolution. All staid a pretty while, and so away, and I a while to my office, then abroad into the street with my father, and left him to go to see my aunt Wight and uncle, intending to lie at Tom’s to-night, or my cozen Scott’s, where it seems he has hitherto lain and is most kindly used there. So I home and to my office very late making up my Lord’s navy accounts, wherein I find him to stand debtor 1200l.. So home to supper and to bed.
morning becomes day
in the way
of road into street
and I
unintending to lie
making up a stand
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 11 April 1663.
Prayer
The terrible trials still come.
They haven't stopped. Weather
that stays in place— days stacked
like wet wool, nights that press
on the ribs. Please let up already.
We're stripped down to nearly
only the bones of our humanity. We
have to work so hard to even feel
capable of moving through the days.
My heart breaks for how much you
have to bear, as the rest of the world
blithely goes home to soft lamplight
and rest. It takes such work to coax
the soul to sit up straight in the body,
to convince it the music hasn't ended.
That it still has the capacity to dance.
Let today be the day, Lord. Send
a sign that a flood of clear air
is coming, that you won't begrudge
the handful of coins in our hands.
Give us mercy and a little hope.
Our due at last. Fists unclasped.

