Via Negativa

March 2, 2023 by Dave Bonta

Trumpeter swan

This morning I went early to my Lord at Mr. Crew’s, where I spoke to him. Here were a great many come to see him, as Secretary Thurlow who is now by this Parliament chosen again Secretary of State. There were also General Monk’s trumpeters to give my Lord a sound of their trumpets this morning. Thence I went to my office, and wrote a letter to Mr. Downing about the business of his house. Then going home, I met with Mr. Eglin, Chetwind, and Thomas, who took me to the Leg in King’s street, where we had two brave dishes of meat, one of fish, a carp and some other fishes, as well done as ever I ate any. After that to the Swan tavern, where we drank a quart or two of wine, and so parted. So I to Mrs. Jem and took Mr. Moore with me (who I met in the street), and there I met W. Howe and Sheply. After that to Westminster Hall, where I saw Sir G. Booth at liberty. This day I hear the City militia is put into good posture, and it is thought that Monk will not be able to do any great matter against them now, if he have a mind.
I understand that my Lord Lambert did yesterday send a letter to the Council, and that to-night he is to come and appear to the Council in person. Sir Arthur Haselrigge do not yet appear in the House. Great is the talk of a single person, and that it would now be Charles, George, or Richard again. For the last of which, my Lord St. John is said to speak high. Great also is the dispute now in the House, in whose name the writs shall run for the next Parliament; and it is said that Mr. Prin, in open House, said, “In King Charles’s.”
From Westminster Hall home. Spent the evening in my study, and so after some talk with my wife, then to bed.

a trumpeter to trump the wind

one swan

high in that open house

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 2 March 1659/60.

March 2, 2023March 1, 2023 by Luisa A. Igloria

Triboluminescence

There's always a trick someone will call science. 
A loaf of banana bread at the school fair = Chemistry. 
Each fall, students at the university climb the stairs 
to the roof and drop pumpkins from there. It's hard to tell 
who does the measurements, who keeps time. Everyone 
leaning out of a window or walking past can hear the splat 
on cement, see the festive orange guts that fleck the grass 
border. No one was harmed in the experiment involving
a feather and a cannonball. There are times I'm convinced 
quantum physics will make it possible for me to be 
everywhere. If a smashed sugar cube can give off 
sparks of light thaf fly like fish scales,  why 
should I not harbor the same ambition?

March 1, 2023March 1, 2023 by Dave Bonta

Detached

In the morning went to my Lord’s lodgings, thinking to have spoke with Mr. Sheply, having not been to visit him since my coming to town. But he being not within I went up, and out of the box where my Lord’s pamphlets lay, I chose as many as I had a mind to have for my own use and left the rest. Then to my office, where little to do, abut Mr. Sheply comes to me, so at dinner time he and I went to Mr. Crew’s, whither Mr. Thomas was newly come to town, being sent with Sir H. Yelverton, my old school-fellow at Paul’s School, to bring the thanks of the county to General Monk for the return of the Parliament. But old Mr. Crew and my Lord not coming home to dinner, we tarried late before we went to dinner, it being the day that John, Mr. John Crew’s coachman, was to be buried in the afternoon, he being a day or two before killed with a blow of one of his horses that struck his skull into his brain. From thence Mr. Sheply and I went into London to Mr. Laxton’s; my Lord’s apothecary, and so by water to Westminster, where at the Sun he and I spent two or three hours in a pint or two of wine, discoursing of matters in the country, among other things telling me that my uncle did to him make a very kind mention of me, and what he would do for me. Thence I went home, and went to bed betimes.
This day the Parliament did vote that they would not sit longer than the 15th day of this month.

thinking
out of the box
an unburied skull

the sun spent hours
in a pint of wine

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 1 March 1659/60.

March 1, 2023 by Dave Bonta

Prophesy 101

To my office, and drank at Will’s with Mr. Moore, who told me how my Lord is chosen General at Sea by the Council, and that it is thought that Monk will be joined with him therein.
Home and dined, after dinner my wife and I by water to London, and thence to Herring’s, the merchant in Coleman Street, about 50l. which he promises I shall have on Saturday next. So to my mother’s, and then to Mrs. Turner’s, of whom I took leave, and her company, because she was to go out of town to-morrow with Mr. Pepys into Norfolk. Here my cosen Norton gave me a brave cup of metheglin, the first I ever drank. To my mother’s and supped there.

off to sea will be
here

water in the street
is next

turn out to row
in a brave cup

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 29 February 1659/60.

March 1, 2023February 28, 2023 by Luisa A. Igloria

Childhood: A Zuihitsu

A snippet of hair and a brittle toenail moon

The orange rubber bath toy christened "Mr. D"

A little writing table with a hinged lid, its recessed drawer  
holding comic books and lined paper, plastic tubes of paste

A long pillow against which three daughters could lean,
each holding a picture book in the morning

A red, zippered sweatshirt hoodie that looked reddest
against a canvas of green grass at the park

The store on the second floor of Mar-Bay selling
clothes from Taiwan and Hello Kitty marshmallows

Every goat ever tied to the guava tree in the backyard,
bleating before the knife and the fire and the feast

A wooden ruler and pencil on the piano keyboard waiting
for fingers to flay  flog

The bit of torn newspaper her mother used to cover
an evil-looking face in the background of the family picture

Missals and rosary beads, shale-colored lace veils

The women's collective screaming when the child
walked in from the garden with a gash on her forehead

The roasted pig's gummy tongue, the chicken's rubbery 
heart, its sandy liver

A stoppered amber vial in the alcove with something
fleshy swimming in liquid 

The doorframe, one side still bearing pencil marks
recording height and growth

February 28, 2023 by Dave Bonta

Lighthouse keeper

Up in the morning, and had some red herrings to our breakfast, while my boot-heel was a-mending, by the same token the boy left the hole as big as it was before. Then to horse, and for London through the forest, where we found the way good, but only in one path, which we kept as if we had rode through a canal all the way. We found the shops all shut, and the militia of the red regiment in arms at the Old Exchange, among whom I found and spoke to Nich. Osborne, who told me that it was a thanksgiving-day through the City for the return of the Parliament. At Paul’s I light, Mr. Blayton holding my horse, where I found Dr. Reynolds in the pulpit, and General Monk there, who was to have a great entertainment at Grocers’ Hall. So home, where my wife and all well. Shifted myself, and so to Mr. Crew’s, and then to Sir Harry Wright’s, where I found my Lord at dinner, who called for me in, and was glad to see me. There was at dinner also Mr. John Wright and his lady, a very pretty lady, Alderman Allen’s daughter. I dined here with Will. Howe, and after dinner went out with him to buy a hat (calling in my way and saw my mother), which we did at the Plough in Fleet Street by my Lord’s direction, but not as for him. Here we met with Mr. Pierce a little before, and he took us to the Greyhound Tavern, and gave us a pint of wine, and as the rest of the seamen do, talked very high again of my Lord. After we had done about the hat we went homewards, he to Mr. Crew’s and I to Mrs. Jem, and sat with her a little. Then home, where I found Mr. Sheply, almost drunk, come to see me, afterwards Mr. Spong comes, with whom I went up and played with him a Duo or two, and so good night. I was indeed a little vexed with Mr. Sheply, but said nothing, about his breaking open of my study at my house, merely to give him the key of the stair door at my Lord’s, which lock he might better have broke than mine.

through the forest
only one path

for the light
on a gray sea

high again
and me drunk

breaking
open

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 28 February 1659/60.

February 28, 2023February 28, 2023 by Luisa A. Igloria

Retreat

You drop into the little terrarium world of a story or poem.
There is a talking clay dinosaur in it. You look familiar, you say.
She grunts and steps over the broccoli-tufted forest. Trust
means you can be fully here, next to a citizen of Mesozoic 
time, and also exist outside the glass. All I want to do sometimes 
is sleep, you sigh; or read. Every now and then, the shadows 
of flying pterosaurs stretch a fleeting canopy that blots out 
the sun. You're convinced the writing residency you heard 
about is here, somewhere beyond the teaspoon-sized pond 
ringed with moss and breadcrumbs. Breadcrumbs! All you
have to do is find the trail, follow the warm, yeasty smell to
its source. A pearly moon rises, the color of abalone shells.
You must be nearly there, since you've gotten this far. Fern
fronds brush against your fingers like deckle-edged pages.

February 28, 2023 by Dave Bonta

Fool

i hold hands
up to the sky

it’s something to feel
snowflakes fall

my pair of starfish
never get their fill

what kind of fool
loses sleep

February 27, 2023February 27, 2023 by Luisa A. Igloria

Wondering

Wondering if your children are safe. Wondering if it was a mistake
to leave them in the care of others. If going to work/school in a different
city makes any leaving worse. Wondering how anyone can fall asleep
in five minutes and not wake up several times in the night. If one is
allowed to take a small pleasure (like ice cream or a hot bath or an after-
noon at the movies) without having to pay for it in some way (bad news,
sudden illness, a visit to the ER). Wondering how many years it takes
to wipe out all debt. Wondering how some people can take three
or four vacations a year with their entire family—cruises, long
hotel stays, shiny smiles for days into the camera. Birds wheel
overhead in a city square where the light is milky all night—Don't
they have trouble figuring out what time it is? Wondering how
horses and ducks and deer sleep standing up; how bright pink
flocks of flamingos can't even sit on the sand flats where they live.

February 27, 2023 by Dave Bonta

Doomsday prepper

Up by four o’clock, and after I was ready, took my leave of my father, whom I left in bed, and the same of my brother John, to whom I gave 10s. Mr. Blayton and I took horse and straight to Saffron Walden, where at the White Hart, we set up our horses, and took the master of the house to shew us Audley End House, who took us on foot through the park, and so to the house, where the housekeeper shewed us all the house, in which the stateliness of the ceilings, chimney-pieces, and form of the whole was exceedingly worth seeing. He took us into the cellar, where we drank most admirable drink, a health to the King. Here I played on my flageolette, there being an excellent echo. He shewed us excellent pictures; two especially, those of the four Evangelists and Henry VIII. After that I gave the man 2s. for his trouble, and went back again. In our going, my landlord carried us through a very old hospital or almshouse, where forty poor people was maintained; a very old foundation; and over the chimney in the mantelpiece was an inscription in brass: “Orate pre anima Thomae Bird,” &c.; and the poor box also was on the same chimney-piece, with an iron door and locks to it, into which I put 6d. They brought me a draft of their drink in a brown bowl, tipt with silver, which I drank off, and at the bottom was a picture of the Virgin and the child in her arms, done in silver. So we went to our Inn, and after eating of something, and kissed the daughter of the house, she being very pretty, we took leave, and so that night, the road pretty good, but the weather rainy to Ep[p]ing, where we sat and played a game at cards, and after supper, and some merry talk with a plain bold maid of the house, we went to bed.

four white horses
to keep in the cellar
an excellent echo

four evangelists
for one
silver kiss

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 27 February 1659/60.