Oysters

A boy is going to the king.
I enter his name in my book.

How many churches have
a barrel of pickled oysters?

Open the barber’s hands with
his own hands: a close business.

This letter is like a house—
a very well writ one.

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 21 April 1660.

4 Replies to “Oysters”

Via Negativa is a unique experiment in daily, poetic conversation with the living and the dead. Dave Bonta founded the site in 2003 and Luisa A. Igloria joined in 2010. Guest authors contribute as well. Dave writes daily erasure poems to discover the poetry hidden in the Diary of Samuel Pepys. Luisa has been writing and posting a poem a day since November 2010, often in response to Dave’s entries at The Morning Porch. Collections of poems first published at Via Negativa include Luisa’s The Buddha Wonders if She is Having a Mid-Life Crisis and Ode to the Heart Smaller than a Pencil Eraser, and Dave’s Ice Mountain and Breakdown: Banjo Poems. Read more…