In a bed of oysters
I am secure as death
and in the arms of a severe knight
I find sure sales,
there being nothing
in any man’s mind
but the pleasure of loss.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 21 May 1660.
Starting January 1, 2013, this is a daily exercise in erasure poetry based on the 17th-century Diary of Samuel Pepys. Why this work? Its language is admirably concrete, with recurring words and turns of phrase shaped by the exigencies of Pepys’ original shorthand. In thought and content it stands at the beginning of the modern era: the first truly confessional piece of literature by a man equally fascinated by religion and science, and whose curiosity encompassed everything from music-making and theater to mathematics, accounting, politics, fashion, and carnal pleasures. And last but not least, the 1899 Wheatley edition is available online in a website that is really a model for how to present literature on the web. It was my desire to read it day by day that led to this project, which I view not as erasure but as discovery—a kind of deep (mis)reading. Pepys was a sexual predator and an architect of British colonialism who personally profited off the slave trade, so any less than an engaged, critical reading of the diary, in this day and age, would be irresponsible. From a secret diary, these are the secret poems hidden even from the author himself.
I began compiling the erasures into free ebooks in 2017. Here are 1664, 1665, 1666, 1667, 1668 and 1669, and from my second attempt, here’s 1660.
In a bed of oysters
I am secure as death
and in the arms of a severe knight
I find sure sales,
there being nothing
in any man’s mind
but the pleasure of loss.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 21 May 1660.
Click image to see the full-size version.
Clive Hicks-Jenkins made this with letters and images left over from his just-completed animation project for the Mid Wales Chamber Orchestra production of Stravinsky’s The Soldier’s Tale. It is of course the poem generated from one of my recent erasures of Pepys. I told him I thought that conceptually, in relation to the erasure, it’s as if he’s put Humpty Dumpty back together again. Presented this way, it feels much more like a complete poem to me. In place of the white emptiness of erasure, there’s solid black. And Clive’s vibrantly colored majuscule letters don’t shout, but intone.
I lie alone, mind on her face.
In the church chancel, the mouth of a whale,
bigger than bad weather.
I keep myself in the open,
wake to piss.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 20 May 1660.
Up early, in pink light
I see rock and a broken land,
the house sunk where children were born—
one of our villages, but for the language.
The people eat fish
but play at physician, a clapper
to frighten the birds
away from the corn.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 19 May 1660.
I hear the wind speak:
nothing but epitaph,
brass angels crying.
The church, a poor man’s box
that binds any guest
to the dying light
like some great weight.
I go down to the water
with my echo:
to say is to know.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 18 May 1660.
The king is naked and mad,
the queen wagers the whole world
on heaven—a strange country.
I hide in a wagon
with one horse.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 17 May 1660.
Wine while I wait,
scarlet clothes like feathers
in the portmanteau.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 16 May 1660.
A day bright as silver,
the women in black like boats
swimming in the sea.
On shore, I walk like a captain:
I roll, not able to stand.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 15 May 1660.
Two pretty ladies
kiss the two blades with them.
I drop my rapier.
We walk up and down the town.
In every door, the moon.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 14 May 1660.
As tailors cut pieces of cloth into a flag,
I like to give a word exceeding grace,
open it to hurl, war, harp,
take it to the mouth as prayer and flesh.
I am old and very strange with letters.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 13 May 1660.