Month: November 2015

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Lake-dweller

Being at Will’s with Captain Barker, who hath paid me 300l. this morning at my office, in comes my father, and with him I walked, and leave him at W. Joyce’s, and went myself to Mr. Crew’s, but came too late to dine, and therefore after a game at shittle-cock with Mr. Walgrave and Mr. Edward, I returned to my father, and taking him from W. Joyce’s, who was not abroad himself, we inquired of a porter, and by his direction went to an alehouse, where after a cup or two we parted. I went towards London, and in my way went in to see Crowly, who was now grown a very great loon and very tame. Thence to Mr. Steven’s with a pair of silver snuffers, and bought a pair of shears to cut silver, and so homeward again.
From home I went to see Mrs. Jem, who was in bed, and now granted to have the small-pox.
Back again, and went to the Coffee-house, but tarried not, and so home.

with morning
comes the joy of a loon
the silver of home


Erasure haiku derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 11 January 1659/60. (See the original erasure.)

Posted on by Luisa A. Igloria

Wild Oats

Was she the only one who never learned
to play pusoy, pusoy dos, tong-its,
pekwa? Who didn’t know what to do
when the girl next to her tossed back shiny
shampooed hair, passed her a joint and laughed
a tinkly laugh, saying Don’t worry, it’s just
like smoking paper? Next to her, a boy
industriously bridging the distance between
knee and groin. Bodies threading spaces
edging tables mouthing songs all with
the same lyrics: Babybaby I can lick
your overactive sadness and we’ll count
the gaudy birds that fly out of the disco
ball. Did she regret not bringing her beat-
up copy of The Histories of Herodotus or
The Stranger? She doesn’t remember how
that night ended, who edited their docudrama,
how she ended up in the photograph on a divan,
arms curled around her like pale ampersands.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Sad party.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Cosmogony

Went out early, and in my way met with Greatorex, and at an alehouse he showed me the first sphere of wire that ever he made, and indeed it was very pleasant; thence to Mr. Crew’s, and borrowed 10l., and so to my office, and was able to pay my money. Thence into the Hall, and meeting the Quarter Master, Jenings, and Captain Rider, we four went to a cook’s to dinner. Thence Jenings and I into London (it being through heat of the sun a great thaw and dirty) to show our bills of return, and coming back drank a pint of wine at the Star in Cheapside. So to Westminster, overtaking Captain Okeshott in his silk cloak, whose sword got hold of many people in walking.
Thence to the Coffee-house, where were a great confluence of gentlemen; viz. Mr. Harrington, Poultny, chairman, Gold, Dr Petty; &c., where admirable discourse till at night. Thence with Doling to Mother Lams, who told me how this day Scott was made Intelligencer, and that the rest of the members that were objected against last night, their business was to be heard this day se’nnight. Thence I went home and wrote a letter, and went to Harper’s, and staid there till Tom carried it to the postboy at Whitehall. So home to bed.

the first office was a sun
a great dirty star
overtaking the coffee-house
of our mother night


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 10 January 1659/60. (See the original erasure.)

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Modern Times

Up betimes and to set my workmen to work, and then a little to the office, and so with Sir J. Minnes, Sir W. Batten, and myself by coach to White Hall, to the Duke, who, after he was ready, did take us into his closett. Thither come my Lord General Monk, and did privately talk with the Duke about having the life-guards pass through the City today only for show and to fright people, for I perceive there are great fears abroad; for all which I am troubled and full of doubt that things will not go well. He being gone, we fell to business of the Navy. Among other things, how to pay off this fleet that is now come from Portugall; the King of Portugall sending them home, he having no more use for them, which we wonder at, that his condition should be so soon altered. And our landmen also are coming back, being almost starved in that poor country.
Having done here I went by my Lord Sandwich’s, who was not at home, and so to Westminster Hall, where full of term, and here met with many about business, among others my cozen Roger Pepys, who is all for a composition with my uncle Thomas, which upon any fair terms I am for also and desire it.
Thence by water, and so by land to my Lord Crew’s, and dined with him and his brother, I know not his name; where very good discourse; among others, of France’s intention to make a patriarch of his own, independent from the Pope, by which he will be able to cope with the Spaniard in all councils, which hitherto he has never done. My Lord Crew told us how he heard my Lord of Holland say that, being Embassador about the match with the Queene-Mother that now is, the King of France insisted upon a dispensation from the Pope, which my Lord Holland making a question of, and that he was commanded to yield to nothing to the prejudice of our religion, says the King of France, “You need not fear that, for if the Pope will not dispense with the match, my Bishopp of Paris shall.”
By and by come in great Mr. Swinfen, the Parliament-man, who, among other discourse of the rise and fall of familys, told us of Bishopp Bridgeman (brother of Sir Orlando) who lately hath bought a seat anciently of the Levers, and then the Ashtons; and so he hath in his great hall window (having repaired and beautified the house) caused four great places to be left for coates of armes. In one, he hath put the Levers, with this motto, “Olim.” In another the Ashtons, with this, “Heri.” In the next his own, with this, “Hodie.” In the fourth nothing but this motto, “Cras nescio cujus.”
Thence towards my brother’s; met with Jack Cole in Fleet Street, and he and I went into his cozen Mary Cole’s (whom I never saw since she was married), and drank a pint of wine and much good discourse. I found him a little conceited, but he had good things in him, and a man may know the temper of the City by him, he being of a general conversation, and can tell how matters go; and upon that score I will encourage his acquaintance.
Thence to my brother’s, and taking my wife up, carried her to Charing Cross, and there showed her the Italian motion, much after the nature of what I showed her a while since in Covent Garden. Their puppets here are somewhat better, but their motions not at all. Thence by coach to my Lady’s, and, hiding my wife with Sarah below, I went up and heard some musique with my Lord, and afterwards discoursed with him alone, and so good night to him and below, having sent for Mr. Creed, had thought to have shown my wife a play before the King, but it is so late that we could not, and so we took coach, and taking up Sarah at my brother’s with their night geare we went home, and I to my office to settle matters, and so home and to bed.
This morning in the Duke’s chamber Sir J. Minnes did break to me his desire about my chamber, which I did put off to another time to discourse of, he speaking to me very kindly to make me the less trouble myself, hoping to save myself and to contrive something or other to pleasure him as well, though I know not well what.
The town, I hear, is full of discontents, and all know of the King’s new bastard by Mrs. Haslerigge, and as far as I can hear will never be contented with Episcopacy, they are so cruelly set for Presbytery, and the Bishopps carry themselves so high, that they are never likely to gain anything upon them.

times pass
only for show
in this wonder-starved country
among levers and puppets

their music is one gear peaking
cruel and high


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 10 November 1662.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Distracted

(Lord’s day). Lay alone a good while, my mind busy about pleading to-morrow to the Duke if there shall be occasion for this chamber that I lie in against Sir J., Minnes. Then up, and after being ready walked to my brother’s, where my wife is, calling at many churches, and then to the Temple, hearing a bit there too, and observing that in the streets and churches the Sunday is kept in appearance as well as I have known it at any time. Then to dinner to my brother’s, only he and my wife, and after dinner to see Mr. Moore, who is pretty well, and he and I to St. Gregory’s, where I escaped a great fall down the staires of the gallery: so into a pew there and heard Dr. Ball make a very good sermon, though short of what I expected, as for the most part it do fall out. So home with Mr. Moore to his chamber, and after a little talk I walked home to my house and staid at Sir W. Batten’s. Till late at night with him and Sir J. Minnes, with whom we did abundance of most excellent discourse of former passages of sea commanders and officers of the navy, and so home and to bed, with my mind well at ease but only as to my chamber, which I fear to lose.

tomorrow is a lie
in many churches

ear to the street
I fall down the stairs of the sea


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 9 November 1662.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Money rap

For these two or three days I have been much troubled with thoughts how to get money to pay them that I have borrowed money of, by reason of my money being in my uncle’s hands.
I rose early this morning, and looked over and corrected my brother John’s speech, which he is to make the next apposition, and after that I went towards my office, and in my way met with W. Simons, Muddiman, and Jack Price, and went with them to Harper’s and in many sorts of talk I staid till two of the clock in the afternoon. I found Muddiman a good scholar, an arch rogue; and owns that though he writes new books for the Parliament, yet he did declare that he did it only to get money; and did talk very basely of many of them. Among other things, W. Simons told me how his uncle Scobel was on Saturday last called to the bar, for entering in the journal of the House, for the year 1653, these words: “This day his Excellence the Lord General Cromwell dissolved this House;” which words the Parliament voted a forgery, and demanded of him how they came to be entered. He answered that they were his own handwriting, and that he did it by virtue of his office, and the practice of his predecessor; and that the intent of the practice was to — let posterity know how such and such a Parliament was dissolved, whether by the command of the King, or by their own neglect, as the last House of Lords was; and that to this end, he had said and writ that it was dissolved by his Excellence the Lord G[eneral]; and that for the word dissolved, he never at the time did hear of any other term; and desired pardon if he would not dare to make a word himself when it was six years after, before they came themselves to call it an interruption; but they were so little satisfied with this answer, that they did chuse a committee to report to the House, whether this crime of Mr. Scobell’s did come within the act of indemnity or no.
Thence I went with Muddiman to the Coffee-House, and gave 18d. to be entered of the Club. Thence into the Hall, where I heard for certain that Monk was coming to London, and that Bradshaw’s lodgings were preparing for him.
Thence to Mrs. Jem’s, and found her in bed, and she was afraid that it would prove the small-pox. Thence back to Westminster Hall, where I heard how Sir H. Vane was this day voted out of the House, and to sit no more there; and that he would retire himself to his house at Raby, as also all the rest of the nine officers that had their commissions formerly taken away from them, were commanded to their farthest houses from London during the pleasure of the Parliament. Here I met with the Quarter Master of my Lord’s troop, and his clerk Mr. Jenings, and took them home, and gave them a bottle of wine, and the remainder of my collar of brawn; and so good night. After that came in Mr. Hawly, who told me that I was mist this day at my office, and that to-morrow I must pay all the money that I have, at which I was put to a great loss how I should get money to make up my cash, and so went to bed in great trouble.

for days I have thought
how to get money
to borrow money

son of my money
a rose is a rogue
for money

words dissolve into mist and I must
pay money to eat
get money


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 9 January 1659/60. (See the original erasure.)

Posted on by Luisa A. Igloria

Koi pond

I have seen them in the city, silent plume
and furl beneath a film of water, copper-struck

before the sun goes down. Even entombed in winter,
theirs is always the fluent channel of water,

radius that repeats itself in the basin
by circling from one end to the other.

Their orbit is my same prohibition:
invisible floss tethering me here,

at home yet not at home; hopeless compass,
my foolish apparatus, eternally goading me on.

Posted on by Luisa A. Igloria

Woven Tapis, Mangyan Blouse, Ilongot Earring

Months after I brought them back,
I took them out of their plastic wrappers—

dark lake of cotton studded with beadwork,
trellis of fibers embroidered with vines;

earrings of bone and mother-of-pearl
pierced through with loops of horsehair.

I might have paid too much, but I
wanted them for what they know of skies

I can’t lie under anymore, fields I’m not
even sure my bones could return to.