Mob rule

Sam Pepys and me

Up betimes, and to my office, where I found Griffen’s girl making it clean, but, God forgive me! what a mind I had to her, but did not meddle with her. She being gone, I fell upon boring holes for me to see from my closet into the great office, without going forth, wherein I please myself much.
So settled to business, and at noon with my wife to the Wardrobe, and there dined, and staid talking all the afternoon with my Lord, and about four o’clock took coach with my wife and Lady, and went toward my house, calling at my Lady Carteret’s, who was within by chance (she keeping altogether at Deptford for a month or two), and so we sat with her a little. Among other things told my Lady how my Lady Fanshaw is fallen out with her only for speaking in behalf of the French, which my Lady wonders at, they having been formerly like sisters, but we see there is no true lasting friendship in the world.
Thence to my house, where I took great pride to lead her through the Court by the hand, she being very fine, and her page carrying up her train.
She staid a little at my house, and then walked through the garden, and took water, and went first on board the King’s pleasure boat, which pleased her much. Then to Greenwich Park; and with much ado she was able to walk up to the top of the hill, and so down again, and took boat, and so through bridge to Blackfryers, and home, she being much pleased with the ramble in every particular of it. So we supped with her, and then walked home, and to bed.
Observations
This I take to be as bad a juncture as ever I observed. The King and his new Queen minding their pleasures at Hampton Court. All people discontented; some that the King do not gratify them enough; and the others, Fanatiques of all sorts, that the King do take away their liberty of conscience; and the height of the Bishops, who I fear will ruin all again. They do much cry up the manner of Sir H. Vane’s death, and he deserves it. They clamour against the chimney-money, and say they will not pay it without force. And in the mean time, like to have war abroad; and Portugall to assist, when we have not money to pay for any ordinary layings-out at home.
Myself all in dirt about building of my house and Sir W. Batten’s a story higher. Into a good way, fallen on minding my business and saving money, which God encrease; and I do take great delight in it, and see the benefit of it. In a longing mind of going to see Brampton, but cannot get three days time, do what I can.
In very good health, my wife and myself.

boring holes
into the clock
and calling it a month

speaking like
the rain water in a boat
to the top of the hill

fanatics at the height of ruin
cry up death and say
they will not pay

for a road when
we have no money
for ordinary dirt

building my house
a story higher I go on
minding my light


Erasure haiku derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 30 June 1662.

Gathering

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
Out here, you can go to a farm and pick
armfuls of lavender that you cut yourself
from plots threaded through with bee-flight.
You can walk between rows of sunflowers,
many of them taller than you, and angle
your head as they do toward the sun's grand,
unfollowable trajectory. Poets write of
fleeting gold and leaves that yellow,
of travelers that want to be in more than one
place at once. But even when you haven't yet
left, the scent of impending departure
can wash over you like early morning
fog. In that momentary stasis, it's as if
time itself has pearled— a string of drops
you can carry like a prayer in your hand.

Healer

Sam Pepys and me

(Lord’s day). Up by four o’clock, and to the settling of my own accounts, and I do find upon my monthly ballance, which I have undertaken to keep from month to month, that I am worth 650l., the greatest sum that ever I was yet master of. I pray God give me a thankfull spirit, and care to improve and encrease it.
To church with my wife, who this day put on her green petticoat of flowred satin, with fine white and gimp lace of her own putting on, which is very pretty. Home with Sir W. Pen to dinner by appointment, and to church again in the afternoon, and then home, Mr. Shepley coming to me about my Lord’s accounts, and in the evening parted, and we to supper again to Sir W. Pen. Whatever the matter is, he do much fawn upon me, and I perceive would not fall out with me, and his daughter mighty officious to my wife, but I shall never be deceived again by him, but do hate him and his traitorous tricks with all my heart. It was an invitation in order to his taking leave of us to-day, he being to go for Ireland in a few days.
So home and prayers, and to bed.

I find my balance
under a coat of white

with pen point to whatever
the matter is

and I would fall again
but with all my heart


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 29 June 1662.

Thrift

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
We go to the store with bags of worn or unused
apparel— trousers that keep shrinking a few inches
more above the ankle after each wash, shoes a rich
friend liked to send every summer after yet another
vacation to exotic places but which we never quite
knew where to wear. It's the same thrift store
we've been going to for the last twenty-some years,
where we found our coffee table— marveling at
the swirls in the solid oak surface, discounting
the few spots of water damage that must have been
enough reason for its donation. We try to remind
ourselves: before buying anything new, consider
need. And after, consider what could go
into recirculation. But even in the aisles of
Children's Hospital of the King's Daughters,
there is no lack of desire. In front of a narrow
mirror by the back wall, a woman has laid a blouse
with a vintage collar across her chest. The older
woman next to her says Just feel that fabric—
isn't it a dream? We're surrounded by so much
discarded beauty: crinkled cotton, bookends
with painted ducks; beaded sheaths, shawls,
sun bonnets, the tiniest pink booties.

Fish dinner

Sam Pepys and me

Up to my Lord’s and my own accounts, and so to the office, where all the forenoon sitting, and at noon by appointment to the Mitre, where Mr. Shepley gave me and Mr. Creed, and I had my uncle Wight with us, a dish of fish. Thence to the office again, and there all the afternoon till night, and so home, and after talking with my wife to bed. This day a genteel woman came to me, claiming kindred of me, as she had once done before, and borrowed 10s. of me, promising to repay it at night, but I hear nothing of her. I shall trust her no more.
Great talk there is of a fear of a war with the Dutch; and we have order to pitch upon twenty ships to be forthwith set out; but I hope it is but a scarecrow to the world, to let them see that we can be ready for them; though, God knows! the King is not able to set out five ships at this present without great difficulty, we neither having money, credit, nor stores.
My mind is now in a wonderful condition of quiet and content, more than ever in all my life, since my minding the business of my office, which I have done most constantly; and I find it to be the very effect of my late oaths against wine and plays, which, if God please, I will keep constant in, for now my business is a delight to me, and brings me great credit, and my purse encreases too.

a dish of fish
is kindred to a ship

for a crow to know
no quiet life

in my mind of wine
if god is light


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 28 June 1662.

Ogun at the Palmer

god of iron and war
carved from hard wood

Ogun with a gun propped
upright under his chin

on a Wednesday in June
behind museum glass

eyeholes turreted
in two directions

so no one can return
the ground-penetrating gaze

of a placeholder
for something more than mortal

the ore that reddens rocks
and makes them ring

something godlike
how with charcoal and bellows

iron can be made to bloom
for the blows of a hammer

how last night’s missiles
blazed across our screens

at what might well be
the very end of the Iron Age

in an empty gallery
with walls of marigold

Ogun casts two shadows
behind his back

Very Superstitious

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
"When you believe in things you don't understand
Then you suffer..."
~ Stevie Wonder




We were studying one weekend at home
for a test on the national hero, Rizal—
he who had learned fencing, over a dozen
languages, enough medicine to perform
cataract surgery on his own mother, and
written two novels to inflame a people's
revolution that toppled the Spanish colonial
regime. On the eve of his execution in 1896,
he wrote a long poem which his sisters smuggled
out of his cell in a cocinilla: fourteen stanzas,
each with five lines. He called it his last
farewell— Mi último adiós. We had to memorize
at least half of it. It was so hot, and we
were tired of memorizing, so we thought
of going to the corner store to buy more
snacks. With a dramatic flourish, I called out, "Mi
último adiós!"— which made my mother and aunt,
making dinner in the kitchen, drop whatever they
were holding and shriek— Take that back,
take it back, don't you ever say that again!

Abnegation

Sam Pepys and me

Up early, not quite rid of my pain. I took more physique, and so made myself ready to go forth. So to my Lord, who rose as soon as he heard I was there; and in his nightgown and shirt stood talking with me alone two hours, I believe, concerning his greatest matters of state and interest. Among other things, that his greatest design is, first, to get clear of all debts to the King for the Embassy money, and then a pardon. Then, to get his land settled; and then to discourse and advise what is best for him, whether to keep his sea employment longer or no. For he do discern that the Duke would be willing to have him out, and that by Coventry’s means. And here he told me, how the terms at Argier were wholly his; and that he did plainly tell Lawson and agree with him, that he would have the honour of them, if they should ever be agreed to; and that accordingly they did come over hither entitled, “Articles concluded on by Sir J. Lawson, according to instructions received from His Royal Highness James Duke of York, &c., and from His Excellency the Earle of Sandwich.” (Which however was more than needed; but Lawson tells my Lord in his letter, that it was not he, but the Council of Warr that would have “His Royal Highness” put into the title, though he did not contribute one word to it.) But the Duke of York did yesterday propose them to the Council, to be printed with this title: “Concluded on, by Sir J. Lawson, Knt.” and my Lord quite left out. Here I find my Lord very politique; for he tells me, that he discerns they design to set up Lawson as much as they can and that he do counterplot them by setting him up higher still; by which they will find themselves spoiled of their design, and at last grow jealous of Lawson. This he told me with much pleasure; and that several of the Duke’s servants, by name my Lord Barkeley, Mr. Talbot, and others, had complained to my Lord of Coventry, and would have him out. My Lord do acknowledge that his greatest obstacle is Coventry. He did seem to hint such a question as this: “Hitherto I have been supported by the King and Chancellor against the Duke; but what if it should come about, that it should be the Duke and Chancellor against the King?” which, though he said it in these plain words, yet I could not fully understand it; but may more here after.
My Lord did also tell me, that the Duke himself at Portsmouth did thank my Lord for all his pains and care; and that he perceived it must be the old Captains that must do the business; and that the new ones would spoil all. And that my Lord did very discreetly tell the Duke (though quite against his judgement and inclination), that, however, the King’s new captains ought to be borne with a little and encouraged. By which he will oblige that party, and prevent, as much as may be, their envy; but he says that certainly things will go to rack if ever the old captains should be wholly out, and the new ones only command.
Then we fell to talk of Sir J. Minnes, of whom my Lord hath a very slight opinion, and that at first he did come to my Lord very displeased and sullen, and had studied and turned over all his books to see whether it had ever been that two flags should ride together in the main-top, but could not find it, nay, he did call his captains on board to consult them. So when he came by my Lord’s side, he took down his flag, and all the day did not hoist it again, but next day my Lord did tell him that it was not so fit to ride without a flag, and therefore told him that he should wear it in the fore-top, for it seems my Lord saw his instructions, which were that he should not wear his flag in the maintop in the presence of the Duke or my Lord.
But that after that my Lord did caress him, and he do believe him as much his friend as his interest will let him. I told my Lord of the late passage between Swan and me, and he told me another lately between Dr. Dell and himself when he was in the country.
At last we concluded upon dispatching all his accounts as soon as possible, and so I parted, and to my office, where I met Sir W. Pen, and he desired a turn with me in the garden, where he told me the day now was fixed for his going into Ireland and that whereas I had mentioned some service he could do a friend of mine there, Saml. Pepys, he told me he would most readily do what I would command him, and then told me we must needs eat a dish of meat together before he went, and so invited me and my wife on Sunday next. To all which I did give a cold consent, for my heart cannot love or have a good opinion of him since his last playing the knave with me, but he took no notice of our difference at all, nor I to him, and so parted, and I by water to Deptford, where I found Sir W. Batten alone paying off the yard three quarters pay. Thence to dinner, where too great a one was prepared, at which I was very much troubled, and wished I had not been there. After dinner comes Sir J. Minnes and some captains with him, who had been at a Councill of Warr to-day, who tell us they have acquitted Captain Hall, who was accused of cowardice in letting of old Winter, the Argier pyrate, go away from him with a prize or two; and also Captain Diamond of the murder laid to him of a man that he had struck, but he lived many months after, till being drunk, he fell into the hold, and there broke his jaw and died, but they say there are such bawdy articles against him as never were heard of – one, that he should upon his knees drink the King and Queenes health at Lisbon, wishing that the King’s pintle were in the Queenes cunt up to her heart, that it might cry “Knack, knock” again.
To the pay again, where I left them, and walked to Redriffe, and so home, and there came Mr. Creed and Shepley to me, and staid till night about my Lord’s accounts, our proceeding to set them in order, and so parted and I to bed.
Mr. Holliard had been with my wife to-day, and cured her of her pain in her ear by taking out a most prodigious quantity of hard wax that had hardened itself in the bottom of the ear, of which I am very glad.

not quite rid of myself
what is best to keep

according to the Lord
pleasure is a question
I should understand

I must be born again
without a flag between
me and the country

I must not go to war
wishing to be cured
of a hardened self


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 27 June 1662.

Wormy

Sam Pepys and me

Up and took physique, but such as to go abroad with, only to loosen me, for I am bound. So to the office, and there all the morning sitting till noon, and then took Commissioner Pett home to dinner with me, where my stomach was turned when my sturgeon came to table, upon which I saw very many little worms creeping, which I suppose was through the staleness of the pickle.
He being gone, comes Mr. Nicholson, my old fellowstudent at Magdalene, and we played three or four things upon the violin and basse, and so parted, and I to my office till night, and there came Mr. Shepley and Creed in order to settling some accounts of my Lord to-night, and so to bed.

in my urn a little worm
creeping through me
fellow student
of the night


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 26 June 1662.

French Bakery

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
The purple one is blackcurrant; next to it,
pear amandine, passionfruit, chocolate. The trio
at the corner table under the slowly revolving fan
are recalling the last time they were actually in
Paris, before all this political nonsense,
at a sidewalk cafe—and not at this French bakery
in the south on a day when temperatures are climbing
past a hundred degrees. The Sysco food delivery trucks
rumble past; the DoorDash guy comes out of Chipotle
next door then speeds off in his car. The woman
tears delicately at her authentic all-butter
croissant (if the ends are curved inward so it looks
like a crescent, that isn't the real thing; it may
have margarine). The man next to her swipes his paper
napkin across his lips after biting into his cold
baguette sandwich. The younger woman with them
points at the suncatcher in the window, twirling on
a chain festooned with teacup and Eiffel Tower charms.