Month: June 2014

Posted on by Luisa A. Igloria

Common Bluebottle, Blue Triangle—

Graphium sarpedon

The Buddha regards the slender lunes
of blue and crossed white, the bands
laddering up and down each wing to make
those familiar blue-green triangles. Pressed
between two sheets of glass, immobile, far
from any treeline or canopy: in which humid
rainforest of his archipelago was this one
gathered? He picks up the framed souvenir
and walks with it to the gift shop counter,
prodded by a faint, familiar throbbing
where his thorax or abdomen might be,
had he wings more swiftly to traverse
the interstitial spaces in this life.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Henri Matisse: The Cut-outs at the Tate.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Falconer

I went up and down to Alderman Backwell’s, but his servants not being up, I went home and put on my gray cloth suit and faced white coat, made of one of my wife’s pettycoates, the first time I have had it on, and so in a riding garb back again and spoke with Mr. Shaw at the Alderman’s, who offers me 300l. if my Lord pleases to buy this cloth with, which pleased me well. So to the Wardrobe and got my Lord to order Mr. Creed to imprest so much upon me to be paid by Alderman Backwell.
So with my Lord to Whitehall by water, and he having taken leave of the King, comes to us at his lodgings and from thence goes to the garden stairs and there takes barge, and at the stairs was met by Sir R. Slingsby, who there took his leave of my Lord, and I heard my Lord thank him for his kindness to me, which Sir Robert answered much to my advantage.
I went down with my Lord in the barge to Deptford, and there went on board the Dutch yacht and staid there a good while, W. Howe not being come with my Lord’s things, which made my Lord very angry. By and by he comes and so we set sayle, and anon went to dinner, my Lord and we very merry; and after dinner I went down below and there sang, and took leave of W. Howe, Captain Rolt, and the rest of my friends, then went up and took leave of my Lord, who give me his hand and parted with great respect.
So went and Captain Ferrers with me into our wherry, and my Lord did give five guns, all they had charged, which was the greatest respect my Lord could do me, and of which I was not a little proud. So with a sad and merry heart I left them sailing pleasantly from Erith, hoping to be in the Downs tomorrow early.
We toward London in our boat. Pulled off our stockings and bathed our legs a great while in the river, which I had not done some years before.
By and by we come to Greenwich, and thinking to have gone on the King’s yacht, the King was in her, so we passed by, and at Woolwich went on shore, in the company of Captain Poole of Jamaica and young Mr. Kennersley, and many others, and so to the tavern where we drank a great deal both wine and beer. So we parted hence and went home with Mr. Falconer, who did give us cherrys and good wine. So to boat, and young Poole took us on board the Charity and gave us wine there, with which I had full enough, and so to our wherry again, and there fell asleep till I came almost to the Tower, and there the Captain and I parted, and I home and with wine enough in my head, went to bed.

I put on my gray
riding garb to go up
the garden stairs

and made a hand
with five guns

for the king’s falcon,
who fell asleep
in my head.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 13 June 1661.

Posted on by Luisa A. Igloria

I was aperture, I was skylight.

I was a new moon blade slicing
through the hidden rooms of night.

I was the gear activated
when coins dropped into
the vending machine,

and the bag that crinkled
downward in its short
doomed flight.

I was the silk of an inverted
pyramid, an ordinary umbrella
made helpless in the wind.

I was the reservoir and the rain
barrel. Of course I looked for you
behind every sliding door.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Henri Matisse: The Cut-outs at the Tate.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Henri Matisse: The Cut-Outs at the Tate

I was aperture, I was skylight. The knife-thrower’s blades ramified in the space around me. I was a white root swimming in the dark, Icarus falling into his own chest, a clown pried open by the red-handed crowd. I saw with a wolf’s blood-drop eye how horse and rider are imprisoned by the bars of a flag. The green world warped around an hourglass shaped like the symbol for infinity. Bodies flowered forth like bladder-wrack or sentient hands as life began returning to the sea. I saw a dancer dismembering all the space in a room and a blue nude curl into a backwards ampersand. When she stood up, her arms rose on either side like quotation marks. I saw Venus, freed of her scallop shell, expand into an isthmus between two oceans. My gaze became ambitious even as the butterfly collector’s net came down and I found myself pressed into glass, attempting still to dance on the head of a pin. My death led straight into the gift shop.

Link.

Posted on by Luisa A. Igloria

Medallion

Before I left
the house each day,
my mother pinned

a disc of beaten
metal above my heart,
beneath my shirt

of pressed cotton;
on it, a modest
constellation

ringed a shape
and form— a woman
veiled and robed,

her features rubbed
beyond recognition
by time and fingers

fervent with
supplication.
Sometimes I held

its wafer edge
between my teeth,
considering:

why not rose,
why not honey?
This little

copper moon,
its iron and
protective tang.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Watermen

Wednesday, a day kept between a fast and a feast, the Bishops not being ready enough to keep the fast for foul weather before fair weather came; and so they were forced to keep it between both.
I to Whitehall, and there with Captain Rolt and Ferrers we went to Lambeth to drink our morning draft, where at the Three Mariners, a place noted for their ale, we went and staid awhile very merry, and so away. And wanting a boat, we found Captain Bun going down the river, and so we went into his boat having a lady with him, and he landed them at Westminster and me at the Bridge.
At home all day with my workmen, and doing several things, among others writing the letter resolved of yesterday to the Duke.
Then to White Hall, where I met my Lord, who told me he must have 300l. laid out in cloth, to give in Barbary, as presents among the Turks.
At which occasion of getting something I was very glad.
Home to supper, and then to Sir R. Slingsby, who with his brother and I went to my Lord’s at the Wardrobe, and there staid a great while, but he being now taking his leave of his friends staid out late, and so they went away.
Anon came my Lord in, and I staid with him a good while, and then to bed with Mr. Moore in his chamber.

between fast and feast
foul weather fair weather
between here and where
the river

we went into it with resolve
as into a great ore

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 12 June 1661.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Budget traveller

At the office this morning, Sir G. Carteret with us; and we agreed upon a letter to the Duke of York, to tell him the sad condition of this office for want of money; how men are not able to serve us more without some money; and that now the credit of the office is brought so low, that none will sell us any thing without our personal security given for the same.
All the afternoon abroad about several businesses, and at night home and to bed.

We tell money
how to serve us without money:
on any given road,
several businesses and a bed.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 11 June 1661.

Posted on by Luisa A. Igloria

Extrait

“my private bone, my chance heart…” ~ D. Bonta

My private bone, my chance heart, I took
the temper of your pulse and bound it
to my compass. I thumbed a ride on the first
galleon out of town and scrubbed the decks
of my passage. Some strangers were kind:
they tore off pieces of bread and sheets
of parchment, on which to collect
my signature. By lantern light,
by moon and monsoon, my loneliness
looked back. But the point from which
I started was a ghost promontory, a wraith
that walked its ramparts in the mist;
a spray of volatile scent that traveled
from nocturnal hearts of blooms to strip me,
sway me, in the middle of a windowless room.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Retreat.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Retreat

Early to my Lord’s, who privately told me how the King had made him Embassador in the bringing over the Queen. That he is to go to Algier, &c., to settle the business, and to put the fleet in order there; and so to come back to Lisbone with three ships, and there to meet the fleet that is to follow him.
He sent for me, to tell me that he do intrust me with the seeing of all things done in his absence as to this great preparation, as I shall receive orders from my Lord Chancellor and Mr. Edward Montagu. At all which my heart is above measure glad; for my Lord’s honour, and some profit to myself, I hope.
By and by, out with Mr. Shepley, Walden, Parliament-man for Huntingdon, Rolt, Mackworth, and Alderman Backwell, to a house hard by, to drink Lambeth ale. So I back to the Wardrobe, and there found my Lord going to Trinity House, this being the solemn day of choosing Master, and my Lord is chosen, so he dines there to-day.
I staid and dined with my Lady; but after we were set, comes in some persons of condition, and so the children and I rose and dined by ourselves, all the children and I, and were very merry and they mighty fond of me. Then to the office, and there sat awhile. So home and at night to bed, where we lay in Sir R. Slingsby’s lodgings in the dining room there in one green bed, my house being now in its last work of painting and whiting.

My private bone, my chance heart,
my Walden in a wardrobe, my rose—
all night we lay
in one green bed.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 10 June 1661.