~ 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
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
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
"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.
No retreat
(Lord’s day). Up and with my wife to church, and finding her desirous to go to church, I did suspect her meeting of Pembleton, but he was not there, and so I thought my jealousy in vain, and treat the sermon with great quiet. And home to dinner very pleasant, only, some angry words my wife could not forbear to give Ashwell, and after dinner to church again, and there, looking up and down, I found Pembleton to stand in the isle against us, he coming too late to get a pew. Which, Lord! into what a sweat did it put me! I do not think my wife did see him, which did a little satisfy me. But it makes me mad to see of what a jealous temper I am and cannot helpe it, though let him do what he can I do not see, as I am going to reduce my family, what hurt he can do me, there being no more occasion now for my wife to learn of him.
Here preached a confident young coxcomb. So home, and I staid a while with Sir J. Minnes, at Mrs. Turner’s, hearing his parrat talk, laugh, and crow, which it do to admiration. So home and with my wife to see Sir W. Pen, and thence to my uncle Wight, and took him at supper and sat down, where methinks my uncle is more kind than he used to be both to me now, and my father tell me to him also, which I am glad at.
After supper home, it being extraordinary dark, and by chance a lanthorn came by, and so we hired it to light us home, otherwise were we no sooner within doors but a great showre fell that had doused us cruelly if we had not been within, it being as dark as pitch.
So to prayers and to bed.
finding quiet on some isle
to reduce hurt into ache
is parrot talk
a crow is more kind
to be both dark
and a horn
ditto with a great shower
that doused us
in prayer
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 16 August 1663.
Idol
Lay pretty long in bed, being a little troubled with some pain got by wind and cold, and so up with good peace of mind, hoping that my wife will mind her house and servants, and so to the office, and being too soon to sit walked to my viall, which is well nigh done, and I believe I may have it home to my mind next week. So back to my office, and there we sat all the morning, I till 2 o’clock before I could go to dinner again.
After dinner walked forth to my instrument maker, and there had my rule he made me lay now so perfected, that I think in all points I have never need or desire a better, or think that any man yet had one so good in all the several points of it for my use. So by water down to Deptford, taking into my boat with me Mr. Palmer, one whom I knew and his wife when I was first married, being an acquaintance of my wife’s and her friends lodging at Charing Cross during our differences. He joyed me in my condition, and himself it seems is forced to follow the law in a common ordinary way, but seems to do well, and is a sober man, enough by his discourse. He landed with me at Deptford, where he saw by the officers’ respect to me a piece of my command, and took notice of it, though God knows I hope I shall not be elated with that, but rather desire to be known for serving the King well, and doing my duty.
He gone I walked up and down the yard a while discoursing with the officers, and so by water home meditating on my new Rule with great pleasure. So to my office, and there by candle light doing business, and so home to supper and to bed.
a little ingot of mind
I believe
may have a maker
I never desire better
for water or a boat
an ordinary piece of God
to go off
to light up
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 15 August 1663.
Witness
~ after “Who Opened the Window,” Jessica Damen
It looks like an ordinary room. Perhaps a summer
house. No gilt decor, just walls of dirty-looking cream
bordered with green. The humid air moves like an animal
through the trees. You would need to crack a window open
though it would probably not make a difference. A man
in a merino sweater, hand on hip, stands behind a woman
in a chair. She is in middle age, perhaps farther along, but she
wears the look of what some might call good breeding.
Her hand cups her cheek so we can see the diamond
on one finger. This means she is taken. Was taken. Did he
do the taking? His face, turned toward the fourth wall between
us, is bored or indifferent. He’s the kind who takes easily, and
after having taken, runs his fingers through his hair, moving
on to the calculation of the next conquest. On the dinner table,
a pewter samovar and cup; a weighted object in the shape
of a horned, eyeless head. I see another woman there—
but there are two. Just girls, actually. They seem to almost
have the same body, though the one who sits upright has a face
still mostly unshadowed. Her head turns away; she can’t bear
to look too closely. The other has gone pale and limp as the beast
forces his girth into her. From what labyrinth has he fled
extradition, tired of the game of winding thread and waiting for
periodic delivery of sacrifices? A small, yellow-feathered marionette,
mouth agape, is the only seeming witness. Yet it’s enough, isn’t it—
a start? A record is being made here. Not everything can be
erased, though it will take time for their voices to be heard.
Division of labor
Awake, and to chide my wife again, and I find that my wife has got too great head to be brought down soon, nor is it possible with any convenience to keep Ashwell longer, my wife is so set and convinced, as she was in Sarah, to make her appear a Lyer in every small thing that we shall have no peace while she stays. So I up and to my office doing several businesses in my study, and so home to dinner. The time having outslipt me and my stomach, it being past, two a-clock, and yet before we could sit down to dinner Mrs. Harper and her cousin Jane came, and we treated and discoursed long about her coming to my wife for a chamber mayd, and I think she will do well. So they went away expecting notice when she shall come, and so we sat down to dinner at four a-clock almost, and then I walked forth to my brother’s, where I found my father very discontented, and has no mind to come to my house, and would have begun some of the differences between my wife and him, but I desired to hear none of them, and am sorry at my folly in forcing it and theirs in not telling me of it at the beginning, and therefore am resolved to make the best of a bad market, and to bring my wife to herself again as soon and as well as I can. So we parted very kindly, and he will dine with me to-morrow or next day. Thence walked home, doing several errands by the way, and at home took my wife to visit Sir W. Pen, who is still lame, and after an hour with him went home and supped, and with great content to bed.
hide my head or we
shall have no peace
study having outslipped
me and my stomach
the clock has no mind
and no kind hour
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 14 August 1663.
Root Ghazal
I filch a sprig of jasmine from a public bush
to set in water, hoping to sprout new roots.
You have to admire the way some plants grow
new parts after division— even sturdier roots.
The garden guides say: sanitize your blades
before you cut, to encourage clean roots.
If we cut off our limbs we would merely be armless or
legless. To lop off a tail would not grow new roots—
but that's how a lizard escapes. I've changed the soil,
thinned the overgrowth, and aerated the roots.
Decades now since I decided to make a life here.
Does your heart, too, swing from its nest to its roots?
The tree bears fruit that ripens and swells. What's unpicked
sugars the air, loosens, then plummets back to the roots.
Groundless
Lay long in bed with my wife talking of family matters, and so up and to the office, where we sat all the morning, and then home to dinner, and after dinner my wife and I to talk again about getting of a couple of good mayds and to part with Ashwell, which troubles me for her father’s sake, though I shall be glad to have the charge taken away of keeping a woman. Thence a little to the office, and so abroad with my wife by water to White Hall, and there at my Lord’s lodgings met my Lady Jemimah, with whom we staid a good while. Thence to Mrs. Hunt’s, where I left my wife, and I to walk a little in St. James’s Park, while Mrs. Harper might come home, with whom we came to speak about her kinswoman Jane Gentleman to come and live with us as a chamber mayde, and there met with Mr. Hoole my old acquaintance of Magdalen, and walked with him an hour in the Parke, discoursing chiefly of Sir Samuel Morland, whose lady is gone into France. It seems he buys ground and a farm in the country, and lays out money upon building, and God knows what! so that most of the money he sold his pension of 500l. per annum for, to Sir Arthur Slingsby, is believed is gone. It seems he hath very great promises from the King, and Hoole hath seen some of the King’s letters, under his own hand, to Morland, promising him great things (and among others, the order of the Garter, as Sir Samuel says); but his lady thought it below her to ask any thing at the King’s first coming, believing the King would do it of himself, when as Hoole do really think if he had asked to be Secretary of State at the King’s first coming, he might have had it. And the other day at her going into France, she did speak largely to the King herself, how her husband hath failed of what his Majesty had promised, and she was sure intended him; and the King did promise still, as he is a King and a gentleman, to be as good as his word in a little time, to a tittle: but I never believe it.
Here in the Park I met with Mr. Coventry, where he sent for a letter he had newly writ to me, wherein he had enclosed one from Commissioner Pett complaining of his being defeated in his attempt to suspend two pursers, wherein the manner of his doing it, and complaint of our seeing him (contrary to our promises the other day), deserted, did make us laugh mightily, and was good sport to think how awkwardly he goes about a thing that he has no courage of his own nor mind to do. Mr. Coventry answered it very handsomely, but I perceive Pett has left off his corresponding with me any more.
Thence to fetch my wife from Mrs. Hunt’s, where now he was come in, and we eat and drunk, and so away (their child being at home, a very lively, but not pretty at all), by water to Mrs. Turner’s, and there made a short visit, and so home by coach, and after supper to prayers and to bed, and before going to bed Ashwell began to make her complaint, and by her I do perceive that she has received most base usage from my wife, which my wife sillily denies, but it is impossible the wench could invent words and matter so particularly, against which my wife has nothing to say but flatly to deny, which I am sorry to see, and blows to have past, and high words even at Hinchinbrooke House among my Lady’s people, of which I am mightily ashamed.
I said nothing to either of them, but let them talk till she was gone and left us abed, and then I told my wife my mind with great sobriety of grief, and so to sleep.
I have an old acquaintance
with the ground
and God knows what
to promise the land
in a desert war
prayers going to ash
we invent words
with great sobriety of grief
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 13 August 1663.

