Pear-shaped

Sam Pepys and me

Up betimes, and after taking leave of my brother, John, who went from me to my father’s this day, I went forth by water to Sir Philip Warwick’s, where I was with him a pretty while; and in discourse he tells me, and made it appear to me, that the King cannot be in debt to the Navy at this time 5,000l.; and it is my opinion that Sir G. Carteret do owe the King money, and yet the whole Navy debt paid. Thence I parted, being doubtful of myself that I have not spoke with the gravity and weight that I ought to do in so great a business. But I rather hope it is my doubtfulness of myself, and the haste which he was in, some very great personages waiting for him without, while he was with me, that made him willing to be gone. To the office by water, where we sat doing little, now Mr. Coventry is not here, but only vex myself to see what a sort of coxcombs we are when he is not here to undertake such a business as we do. In the afternoon telling my wife that I go to Deptford, I went, by water to Westminster Hall, and there finding Mrs. Lane, took her over to Lambeth, where we were lately, and there, did what I would with her, but only the main thing, which she would not consent to, for which God be praised, and yet I came so near, that I was provoked to spend. But, trust in the Lord, I shall never do so again while I live. After being tired with her company I landed her at White Hall, and so home and at my office writing letters till 12 at night almost, and then home to supper and bed, and there found my poor wife hard at work, which grieved my heart to see that I should abuse so good a wretch, and that is just with God to make her bad with me for my wronging of her, but I do resolve never to do the like again. So to bed.

a pear with the gravity
of some great personage

waiting in the office
where we do little

but take a business over
raise and spend in the red

I almost grieve
to see us go bad


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 24 September 1663.

Quiet Things

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
I like that there are still delicate things
in the world: moths scattered on the storm
door, their soft brown markings like un-
finished embroidery. One bit of string
incense tied into a bow, exuding a warm
green smell from a greeting card. The light
hand of the tech who finds the vein in the hollow
of your elbow joint, drawing out a small vial of blood
without asking anything more of you. A cloud-
blue mug on which the potter left a dent exactly
the size of your thumb on one side. An eyelash
that floated onto your cheek, quiet as a virgule
breathing between two lines of a poem.

Walking it out

Sam Pepys and me

Up betimes and to my office, where setting down my journall while I was in the country to this day, and at noon by water to my Lord Crew’s, and there dined with him and Sir Thomas, thinking to have them inquire something about my Lord’s lodgings at Chelsey, or any thing of that sort, but they did not, nor seem to take the least notice of it, which is their discretion, though it might be better for my Lord and them too if they did, that so we might advise together for the best, which cannot be while we seem ignorant one to another, and it is not fit for me to begin the discourse. Thence walked to several places about business and to Westminster Hall, thinking to meet Mrs. Lane, which is my great vanity upon me at present, but I must correct it. She was not in the way.
So by water home and to my office, whither by and by came my brother John, who is to go to Cambridge to-morrow, and I did give him a most severe reprimand for his bad account he gives me of his studies. This I did with great passion and sharp words, which I was sorry to be forced to say, but that I think it for his good, forswearing doing anything for him, and that which I have yet, and now do give him, is against my heart, and will also be hereafter, till I do see him give me a better account of his studies. I was sorry to see him give me no answer, but, for aught I see, to hear me without great resentment, and such as I should have had: in his condition. But I have done my duty, let him do his, for I am resolved to be as good as my word. After two hours walking in the garden, till after it was dark, I ended with him and to my office, and there set some papers in order, and so to supper, and my poor wife, who is mighty busy at home; fitting her closet. So to bed.

up and down I think
something out

take the least ignorant course
to several places

the way I am
sharp words wear thin

after one or two hours
walking in the dark


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 23 September 1663.

Going Home

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
Years into the future, you'll find an almost-
country in streets and houses that have

vanished, in rotted planks that once held up
the pier. From a certain spot looking west,

the sun spilled ink pots of rust and orange.
You could write, on paper, that the light

was beautiful or that after, night broke open
to swallow the ruins. You could write: here

men arrived, preaching their gospel of
advantage, throwing nets over the sides

of their boats to harvest the last of fallen
stars. Touch a finger to broken tile.

Remember an old alphabet, how it used
to live in leatherbound pages or a box

inlaid with mother-of-pearl. City gates
were built against onrushing waters,

where once people stood exchanging
goodbyes but delaying their actual

departure. Under every archive of what
vanished lies another archive the color

of bleached coral. Ask the weaver
birds where their home is, as they bend

sticks and straw into shapes their bodies
will fit into. Ask yourself when it is time

to stand under a tree and shed your clothes,
waiting to be wrapped up in its arms.





Prodigal son

Sam Pepys and me

I up, well refreshed after my journey, and to my office and there set some things in order, and then Sir W. Pen and I met and held an office, and at noon to dinner, and so by water with my wife to Westminster, she to see her father and mother, and we met again at my Lord’s lodgings, and thence by water home again, where at the door we met Sir W. Pen and his daughter coming to visit us, and after their visit I to my office, and after some discourse to my great satisfaction with Sir W. Warren about our bargain of masts, I wrote my letters by the post, and so home to supper and to bed.
This day my wife showed me bills printed, wherein her father, with Sir John Collidon and Sir Edward Ford, have got a patent for curing of smoky chimneys. I wish they may do good thereof, but fear it will prove but a poor project.
This day the King and Queen are to come to Oxford. I hear my Lady Castlemaine is for certain gone to Oxford to meet him, having lain within here at home this week or two, supposed to have miscarried; but for certain is as great in favour as heretofore; at least Mrs. Sarah at my Lord’s, who hears all from their own family, do say so.
Every day brings newes of the Turke’s advance into Germany, to the awakeing of all the Christian Princes thereabouts, and possessing himself of Hungary. My present care is fitting my wife’s closett and my house, and making her a velvet coate, and me a new black cloth suit, and coate and cloake, and evening my reckoning as well as I can against Michaelmas Day, hoping for all that to have my balance as great or greater than ever I had yet.

after my journey home
the door is great as a wish
but one I have miscarried

great as a lord
of the closet
and my velvet cloak


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 22 September 1663.

Invisible City

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
"You won't find another country, won't find another shore....
there's no ship for you, there's no road."
~ C.P. Cavafy



Like most things in life, I learned this
too the hard way. I also left— pursuing
a myth that yielded no streets of gold, no
green-leafed money trees, no saints
smiling at the end of a hard shift, handing out
paychecks like halos. I too, traded one city
for another, then another. Was called traitor,
ungrateful for the canopy my first home
provided, though rain coursed down the walls
like waterfalls. Was accused of wanting more
than someone like me should desire. And yet
I'm always asked: when do you think you'll
be back? I used to have nightmares
that the roof over our heads was caving in,
or that the next wind would claw at its corners
and peel it back, revealing how we slept
without clothes, or how we squatted
at the table to eat. Now there's nothing
there save a mile marker, a taxi stand,
a transient house, an internet café.
The only thing left is feeling, and faded
furniture on a faded rug; portraits of
unknown presidents glimmering
from what would have been walls.


Equinox

river in November light between bare woods and mountain



They aren’t bare yet—trees still hold on

to their banners of green, the heat

a palpable collar around

everything. And yet,

the counters begin

to shift—

one more orange

wing lofting south on currents

toward overwintering. One more

graphite mark moving against clear sky,

finding its place in a swelling wave as daylight fades.

Poetry Blog Digest 2026, Week 38

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: yellowing pears, oleander petals, the rattle of swans’ wings, the engines of our envy, and much more. Enjoy.

Continue reading “Poetry Blog Digest 2026, Week 38”

Killing field

Sam Pepys and me

Up very betimes by break of day, and got my wife up, whom the thought of this day’s long journey do discourage; and after eating something, and changing of a piece of gold to pay the reckoning, we mounted, and through Baldwicke, where a fayre is kept to-day, and a great one for cheese and other such commodities, and so to Hatfield, it being most curious weather from the time we set out to our getting home, and here we dined, and my wife being very weary, and believing that it would be hard to get her home to-night, and a great charge to keep her longer abroad, I took the opportunity of an empty coach that was to go to London, and left her to come in it to London, for half-a-crown, and so I and the boy home as fast as we could drive, and it was even night before we got home. So that I account it very good fortune that we took this course, being myself very weary, much more would my wife have been. At home found all very well and my house in good order. To see Sir W. Pen, who is pretty well, and Sir J. Minnes, who is a little lame on one foot, and the rest gone to Chatham, viz.: Sir G. Carteret and Sir W. Batten, who has in my absence inveighed against my contract the other day for Warren’s masts, in which he is a knave, and I shall find matter of tryumph, but it vexes me a little. So home, and by and by comes my wife by coach well home, and having got a good fowl ready for supper against her coming, we eat heartily, and so with great content and ease to our own bed, there nothing appearing so to our content as to be at our own home, after being abroad awhile.

day is a long journey
to the field at night
empty as good fortune

to see pretty well
who is a little lame
on one foot

and who has an owl
ready for supper
in her heart


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 21 September 1663.

Split

Sam Pepys and me

(Lord’s day). Up, and finding my father somewhat better, walked to Huntingdon church, where in my Lord’s pew, with the young ladies, by my Lord’s own showing me the place, I stayed the sermon, and so to Hinchingbroke, walking with Mr. Shepley and Dr. King, whom they account a witty man here, as well as a good physician, and there my Lord took me with the rest of the company, and singly demanded my opinion in the walks in his garden, about the bringing of the crooked wall on the mount to a shape; and so to dinner, there being Collonel Williams and much other company, and a noble dinner. But having before got my Lord’s warrant for travelling to-day, there being a proclamation read yesterday against it at Huntingdon, at which I am very glad, I took leave, leaving them at dinner, and walked alone to my father’s, and there, after a word or two to my father and mother, my wife and I mounted, and, with my father’s boy, upon a horse I borrowed of Captain Ferrers, we rode to Bigglesworth by the help of a couple of countrymen, that led us through the very long and dangerous waters, because of the ditches on each side, though it begun to be very dark, and there we had a good breast of mutton roasted for us, and supped, and to bed.

what wing broke
a pinion in the garden

before war
the proclamation against it

after a word
the uncouple of us

the itch on each side
to be a good mutt


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 20 September 1663.