Palliative

Sam Pepys and me

Up, my wife to the making of Christmas pies all day, being now pretty well again, and I abroad to several places about some businesses, among others bought a bake-pan in Newgate Market, and sent it home, it cost me 16s. So to Dr. Williams, but he is out of town, then to the Wardrobe. Hither come Mr. Battersby; and we falling into a discourse of a new book of drollery in verse called Hudebras, I would needs go find it out, and met with it at the Temple: cost me 2s. 6d. But when I came to read it, it is so silly an abuse of the Presbyter Knight going to the warrs, that I am ashamed of it; and by and by meeting at Mr. Townsend’s at dinner, I sold it to him for 18d. Here we dined with many tradesmen that belong to the Wardrobe, but I was weary soon of their company, and broke up dinner as soon as I could, and away, with the greatest reluctancy and dispute (two or three times my reason stopping my sense and I would go back again) within myself, to the Duke’s house and saw “The Villaine,” which I ought not to do without my wife, but that my time is now out that I did undertake it for. But, Lord! to consider how my natural desire is to pleasure, which God be praised that he has given me the power by my late oaths to curb so well as I have done, and will do again after two or three plays more. Here I was better pleased with the play than I was at first, understanding the design better than I did. Here I saw Gosnell and her sister at a distance, and could have found it in my heart to have accosted them, but thought not prudent. But I watched their going out and found that they came, she, her sister and another woman, alone, without any man, and did go over the fields a foot. I find that I have an inclination to have her come again, though it is most against my interest either of profit or content of mind, other than for their singing.
Home on foot, in my way calling at Mr. Rawlinson’s and drinking only a cup of ale there. He tells me my uncle has ended his purchase, which cost him 4,500l., and how my uncle do express his trouble that he has with his wife’s relations, but I understand his great intentions are for the Wights that hang upon him and by whose advice this estate is bought. Thence home, and found my wife busy among her pies, but angry for some saucy words that her mayde Jane has given her, which I will not allow of, and therefore will give her warning to be gone. As also we are both displeased for some slight words that Sarah, now at Sir W. Pen’s, hath spoke of us, but it is no matter. We shall endeavour to joyne the lion’s skin to the fox’s tail.
So to my office alone a while, and then home to my study and supper and bed. Being also vexed at my boy for his staying playing abroad when he is sent of errands, so that I have sent him to-night to see whether their country carrier be in town or no, for I am resolved to keep him no more.

going to war again
within myself
understanding better at a distance

I watch the fields
their leased light
the fox at play


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 26 December 1662.

Without

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
"To move along the earth without keeping a ledger."
~ Jenny Xie



Without reaching for a rolled-up magazine to swat
at a spider, maundering across the floor.

Show me a perfectly seamless surface with not
a cloud, not a groove, not a tongue.

Without forcing the prisoner's head between
his knees, lead him into a room for unholding.

In sleep, watch what shape the body curls into.

What it mouths, without grinding
molars into chalk.

Without holding the reflex to the memory
of what caused it.

Untether the dream horse from its post
so where it goes, the gleam returns to the grass.

Unsour the milk and release the butter
churn from its crock.

Without begrudging the custard another egg,
give the day its long-owed due of sweetness.

No more, no less.

The Adoration of the Magi

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
~ after Hieronymous Bosch, 1494


An alchemy of vision for the coming times—

Gifts studded with precious ore and pearls, yes,
enough perhaps to pay their passage into Egypt.

But gifts, too, adorned with scenes of
sacrifice.
And bitter myrrh,

herb used to prepare the body for embalming. Gold
from the mines of Africa and Arabia.
Frankincense,

burnt in thuribles to accompany
souls to the afterlife.

In the distance, armies ride, combing the countryside
for male infants under the age of two.
But evil

already lurks closer. We can see its naked
form, adorned with gilt and chains
and a toad-

encrusted bell. Joseph tends to the swaddling

clothes near a warming fire.
In the fields,
a wolf devours a human and no one comes
to his aid.
Only the woman

with the child on her lap
looks unperturbed, or she has understood
her part.

Such a small figure, thrust into the maw
of mortal time.

And under a pendulous star, a city
which will endure
countless instances of fire and siege.

On high

Sam Pepys and me

(Christmas Day). Up pretty early, leaving my wife not well in bed, and with my boy walked, it being a most brave cold and dry frosty morning, and had a pleasant walk to White Hall, where I intended to have received the Communion with the family, but I came a little too late. So I walked up into the house and spent my time looking over pictures, particularly the ships in King Henry the VIIIth’s Voyage to Bullen; marking the great difference between their build then and now. By and by down to the chappell again where Bishopp Morley preached upon the song of the Angels, “Glory to God on high, on earth peace, and good will towards men.” Methought he made but a poor sermon, but long, and reprehending the mistaken jollity of the Court for the true joy that shall and ought to be on these days, he particularized concerning their excess in plays and gaming, saying that he whose office it is to keep the gamesters in order and within bounds, serves but for a second rather in a duell, meaning the groom-porter. Upon which it was worth observing how far they are come from taking the reprehensions of a bishopp seriously, that they all laugh in the chappell when he reflected on their ill actions and courses.
He did much press us to joy in these publique days of joy, and to hospitality. But one that stood by whispered in my ear that the Bishopp himself do not spend one groat to the poor himself.
The sermon done, a good anthem followed, with vialls, and then the King came down to receive the Sacrament. But I staid not, but calling my boy from my Lord’s lodgings, and giving Sarah some good advice, by my Lord’s order, to be sober and look after the house, I walked home again with great pleasure, and there dined by my wife’s bed-side with great content, having a mess of brave plum-porridge and a roasted pullet for dinner, and I sent for a mince-pie abroad, my wife not being well to make any herself yet. After dinner sat talking a good while with her, her [pain] being become less, and then to see Sir W. Pen a little, and so to my office, practising arithmetique alone and making an end of last night’s book with great content till eleven at night, and so home to supper and to bed.

Christmas cold and frost
a communion
with angels of ice

how far they are
these public days of joy
from last night’s book


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 25 December 1662.

Light Show

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
From across the boulevard, crowds stream 
toward the entrance to the battleship whose nine

16-inch guns, three triple-gun turrets, twenty
5-inch dual purpose guns and forty-nine 8-inch

Oerlikon auto cannons are decked out in over two
million lights. To get to the main deck, the lines

(single file) must navigate two bridges, but only
after walking through the museum converted into

a white wilderness. In one hall, an animated
tree. In another, strung on wires from

the ceiling, a polar bear treads air. It could be
drowning in an actual sea, while the rest of us,

faces craned upwards, could be flailing in
shipwreck. Somewhere, a white queen dispenses

her white benedictions. If light is the purpose
here, there's a surplus of the kind that thistles

from one wire to another in a grid cast over
ten thousand square feet of teak deck. Deployed

to the Pacific during World War II, the ship
shelled targets during the second Philippine

campaign and the Battles of Iwo Jiwa and Okinawa.
It fired its final shots at the end of Desert

Storm. White-hot flash along the horizon. Smoke
and orange flames. Smell of burnt metal and cordite.

Summer reading

Sam Pepys and me

Lay pleasantly, talking to my wife, till 8 o’clock, then up and to Sir W. Batten’s to see him and Sir G. Carteret and Sir J. Minnes take coach towards the Pay at Chatham, which they did and I home, and took money in my pocket to pay many reckonings to-day in the town, as my bookseller’s, and paid at another shop 4l. 10s. for “Stephens’s Thesaurus Graecae Linguae,” given to Paul’s School: So to my brother’s and shoemaker, and so to my Lord Crew’s, and dined alone with him, and after dinner much discourse about matters. Upon the whole, I understand there are great factions at Court, and something he said that did imply a difference like to be between the King and the Duke, in case the Queen should not be with child. I understand, about this bastard. He says, also, that some great man will be aimed at when Parliament comes to sit again; I understand, the Chancellor: and that there is a bill will be brought in, that none that have been in arms for the Parliament shall be capable of office. And that the Court are weary of my Lord Albemarle and Chamberlin. He wishes that my Lord Sandwich had some good occasion to be abroad this summer which is coming on, and that my Lord Hinchingbroke were well married, and Sydney had some place at Court. He pities the poor ministers that are put out, to whom, he says, the King is beholden for his coming in, and that if any such thing had been foreseen he had never come in. After this, and much other discourse of the sea, and breeding young gentlemen to the sea, I went away.
And homeward, met Mr. Creed at my bookseller’s in Paul’s Church-yard, who takes it ill my letter last night to Mr. Povy, wherein I accuse him of the neglect of the Tangier boats, in which I must confess I did not do altogether like a friend; but however it was truth, and I must own it to be so, though I fall wholly out with him for it.
Thence home and to my office alone to do business, and read over half of Mr. Bland’s discourse concerning Trade, which (he being no scholler and so knows not the rules of writing orderly) is very good. So home to supper and to bed, my wife not being well, she having her months upon her.
This evening Mr. Gauden sent me, against Christmas, a great chine of beef and three dozen of tongues. I did give 5s. to the man that brought it, and half-a-crown to the porters. This day also the parish-clerk brought the general bill of mortality, which cost me half-a-crown more.

I take my book
like a child in arms
for the summer

is the discourse
of the sea like truth
to the land’s dozen tongues


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 24 December 1662.

Guest

Sam Pepys and me

…and slept hard till 8 o’clock this morning, and so up and to the office, where I found Sir J. Minnes and Sir W. Batten come unexpectedly home last night from Portsmouth, having done the Pay there before we could have thought it. Sat all the morning, and at noon home to dinner with my wife alone, and after dinner sat by the fire, and then up to make up my accounts with her, and find that my ordinary housekeeping comes to 7l. a month, which is a great deal. By and by comes Dr. Pierce, who among other things tells me that my Lady Castlemaine’s interest at Court increases, and is more and greater than the Queen’s; that she hath brought in Sir H. Bennet, and Sir Charles Barkeley; but that the queen is a most good lady, and takes all with the greatest meekness that may be. He tells me too that Mr. Edward Montagu is quite broke at Court with his repute and purse; and that he lately was engaged in a quarrell against my Lord Chesterfield: but that the King did cause it to be taken up. He tells me, too, that the King is much concerned in the Chancellor’s sickness, and that the Chancellor is as great, he thinks, as ever he was with the King.
He also tells me what the world says of me, “that Mr. Coventry and I do all the business of the office almost:” at which I am highly proud.
He being gone I fell to business, which was very great, but got it well over by nine at night, and so home, and after supper to bed.

an unexpected mouth
fire comes to the castle

takes all
with the greatest meekness

and is as thin as ever
after supper


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 23 December 1662.

On Trying

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
Heartache. I watch the robot vacuum 
go over the room. Sweep and mop, sweep
and mop. Bump into corners then back
away. I understand the assignment
and I understand the constraints.
My attention is likewise faithful.
Is always correcting until a semblance
of purpose and direction is regained.
What intelligence decides what's ample
and what's not enough? The heart
wobbles on the edge of every absence,
trips on every untethered clod. How
do we become so used to the ways
our bodies occupy space? Even in it,
I long for it. A faint chime sounds
to signal the end of a sequence.

Poetry Blog Digest 2025, Week 51

Poetry Blogging Network

A personal selection of posts from the Poetry Blogging Network and beyond. Although I tend to quote my favorite bits, please do click through and read the whole posts. You can also browse the blog digest archive at Via Negativa or, if you’d like it in your inbox, subscribe on Substack (where the posts might be truncated by some email providers).

This week: poems in which the word ‘snow’ matters, the tensions of truth and the body across the experimental lyric, a guy running in the park, a word that feels like a sort of dignified sadness, and much more. Enjoy. And happy holidays! I hope to be back for one last edition of the digest before the New Year.

Continue reading “Poetry Blog Digest 2025, Week 51”

Contender

Sam Pepys and me

…six or seven o’clock and so up, and by the fireside read a good part of “The Advice to a Daughter,” which a simple coxcomb has wrote against Osborne, but in all my life I never did nor can expect to see so much nonsense in print. Thence to my Lord’s, who is getting himself ready for his journey to Hinchingbroke. And by and by, after eating something, and talking with me about many things, and telling me his mind, upon my asking about Sarah (who, it seems, only married of late, but is also said to be turned a great drunkard, which I am ashamed of), that he likes her service well, and do not love a strange face, but will not endure the fault, but hath bade me speak to her and advise her if she hath a mind to stay with him, which I will do.
My Lord and his people being gone, I walked to Mr. Coventry’s chamber, where I found him gone out into the Park with the Duke, so the boy being there ready with my things, I shifted myself into a riding-habitt, and followed him through White Hall, and in the Park Mr. Coventry’s people having a horse ready for me (so fine a one that I was almost afeard to get upon him, but I did, and found myself more feared than hurt) and I got up and followed the Duke, who, with some of his people (among others Mr. Coventry) was riding out. And with them to Hide Park. Where Mr. Coventry asking leave of the Duke, he bid us go to Woolwich. So he and I to the waterside, and our horses coming by the ferry, we by oars over to Lambeth, and from thence, with brave discourse by the way, rode to Woolwich, where we eat and drank at Mr. Pett’s, and discoursed of many businesses, and put in practice my new way of the Call-book, which will be of great use. Here, having staid a good while, we got up again and brought night home with us and foul weather. So over to Whitehall to his chamber, whither my boy came, who had staid in St. James’s Park by my mistake all day, looking for me. Thence took my things that I put off to-day, and by coach, being very wet and cold, on my feet home, and presently shifted myself, and so had the barber come; and my wife and I to read “Ovid’s Metamorphoses,” which I brought her home from Paul’s Churchyard to-night, having called for it by the way, and so to bed,…

in all my nonsense
ready for anything

I turn drunkard
shame is my horse

ready for the asking
my new foul weather

whither came mist
and metamorphoses


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 22 December 1662.