Making a Living

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
Remnant energies, sheltered in stone
through seasons of debt and sorrow.

War and rebuilding, then war again.
Fortresses chiseled with towers

from which sentries could witness how
wind turned the waters’ brined pages.

Repeat as cities hum into being
and warehouses fill with the resin

of trees. War today, war tomorrow.
What is the difference between

revolution and insurrection? History
might not want you to remember survival

shouldn’t mean turning into stone, that
the simple energy of kindness exists.

*

Good intentions

Sam Pepys and me

(Shrove Tuesday). Up and walked to the Temple, and by promise calling Commissioner Pett, he and I to White Hall to give Mr. Coventry an account of what we did yesterday. Thence I to the Privy Seal Office, and there got a copy of Sir W. Pen’s grant to be assistant to Sir J. Minnes, Comptroller, which, though there be not much in it, yet I intend to stir up Sir J. Minnes to oppose, only to vex Sir W. Pen. Thence by water home, and at noon, by promise, Mrs. Turner and her daughter, and Mrs. Morrice, came along with Roger Pepys to dinner. We were as merry as I could be, having but a bad dinner for them; but so much the better, because of the dinner which I must have at the end of this month. And here Mrs. The. shewed me my name upon her breast as her Valentine, which will cost me 20s. After dinner I took them down into the wine-cellar, and broached my tierce of claret for them. Towards the evening we parted, and I to the office awhile, and then home to supper and to bed, the sooner having taken some cold yesterday upon the water, which brings me my usual pain. This afternoon Roger Pepys tells me, that for certain the King is for all this very highly incensed at the Parliament’s late opposing the Indulgence; which I am sorry for, and fear it will breed great discontent.

promise to give up
promise on her breast

as wine wards off
my usual pain


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 3 March 1662/63.

Whisper campaign

Sam Pepys and me

Up early and by water with Commissioner Pett to Deptford, and there took the Jemmy yacht (that the King and the Lords virtuosos built the other day) down to Woolwich, where we discoursed of several matters both there and at the Ropeyard, and so to the yacht again, and went down four or five miles with extraordinary pleasure, it being a fine day, and a brave gale of wind, and had some oysters brought us aboard newly taken, which were excellent, and ate with great pleasure.
There also coming into the river two Dutchmen, we sent a couple of men on board and bought three Hollands cheeses, cost 4d. a piece, excellent cheeses, whereof I had two and Commissioner Pett one.
So back again to Woolwich, and going aboard the Hulke to see the manner of the iron bridles, which we are making of for to save cordage to put to the chain, I did fall from the shipside into the ship (Kent), and had like to have broke my left hand, but I only sprained some of my fingers, which, when I came ashore I sent to Mrs. Ackworth for some balsam, and put to my hand, and was pretty well within a little while after.
We dined at the White Hart with several officers with us, and after dinner went and saw the Royal James brought down to the stern of the Docke (the main business we came for), and then to the Ropeyard, and saw a trial between Riga hemp and a sort of Indian grass, which is pretty strong, but no comparison between it and the other for strength, and it is doubtful whether it will take tarre or no.
So to the yacht again, and carried us almost to London, so by our oars home to the office, and thence Mr. Pett and I to Mr. Grant’s coffee-house, whither he and Sir J. Cutler came to us and had much discourse, mixed discourse, and so broke up, and so home where I found my poor wife all alone at work, and the house foul, it being washing day, which troubled me, because that tomorrow I must be forced to have friends at dinner.
So to my office, and then home to supper and to bed.

a virtuoso gale of wind
on a mission to fall like rain

brought down
into the grass
a doubtful discourse


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 2 March 1662/63.

Making a Living

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
Fragile spark, flame you cup to keep
from sputtering. Mind it doesn’t die out,
this fire handed down from one to another
down the centuries. An edict, a wish, a talisman.
A dream, messages inked on your bones by forebears
who knew to find the hinge where the tip of a spear
could find its target. Bloody skirmish on the shore
(it wouldn’t be the last), after a portal opened
and three-masted ships with broadsides and
falconets brought their hunger from across
the ocean. Bite of peppercorn and cardamom,
burnish of clove and cassia bark. The letter
from the ancestors is brief: Don’t let the heat
turn remnant. Shelter its energy in stone.

*

Poetry Blog Digest 2026, Week 9

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: death stuck in traffic, puritans vs. mermaids, an inflamed labyrinth, rain falling on asphalt, and much more. Enjoy.

Continue reading “Poetry Blog Digest 2026, Week 9”

Making a Living

river in November light between bare woods and mountain

Living is the oldest war in the world. Out walking,
and twilight leans in. Streetlights blink as if everything

needs to grow accustomed to the dark. Hands
in your pockets against the cold— when did you

learn to curl them close into themselves, in secret?
People gather in lit-up spaces filled with song

and noise. You push the door open, slide
into a seat. Here too, while joining in,

you’ve learned to rearrange those parts of yourself
at once rawer and softer, the ones you learned to

shelter from even joy. While glad for welcome, you
never entirely lift your hand from the dial, always

taking measure. The list of the wind, any draft
that could snuff out the fragile spark you carry.

*

Echo chambered

Sam Pepys and me

(Lord’s day). Up and walked to White Hall, to the Chappell, where preached one Dr. Lewes, said heretofore to have been a great witt; but he read his sermon every word, and that so brokenly and so low, that nobody could hear at any distance, nor I anything worth hearing that sat near. But, which was strange, he forgot to make any prayer before sermon, which all wonder at, but they impute it to his forgetfulness.
After sermon a very fine anthem.
So I up into the house among the courtiers, seeing the fine ladies, and, above all, my Lady Castlemaine, who is above all, that only she I can observe for true beauty. The King and Queen being set to dinner I went to Mr. Fox’s, and there dined with him. Much genteel company, and, among other things, I hear for certain that peace is concluded between the King of France and the Pope; and also I heard the reasons given by our Parliament yesterday to the King why they dissent from him in matter of Indulgence, which are very good quite through, and which I was glad to hear.
Thence to my Lord Sandwich, who continues with a great cold, locked up; and, being alone, we fell into discourse of my uncle the Captain’s death and estate, and I took the opportunity of telling my Lord how matters stand, and read his will, and told him all, what a poor estate he hath left, at all which he wonders strangely, which he may well do.
Thence after singing some new tunes with W. Howe I walked home, whither came Will. Joyce, whom I have not seen here a great while, nor desire it a great while again, he is so impertinent a coxcomb, and yet good natured, and mightily concerned for my brothers late folly in his late wooing at the charge to no purpose, nor could in any probability expect it.
He gone, we all to bed, without prayers, it being washing day to-morrow.

each word broken among
the courtiers of yesterday

continues a cold discourse
of death and the state

singing some new hither
for others to go without


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 1 March 1662/63.

Making a Living

river in November light between bare woods and mountain

You walk into this life each morning
as if it was the first day over again and you,
one of the new arrivals to this world. Brush
your teeth, straighten your collar in the mirror,
practice the length or shortness of vowels
your tongue still trips over sometimes. Quickly
self-correct in front of a roomful of eyes. It’s still
winter but bodies with skin the same color as yours
are yanked into the streets in their underwear or
dragged through the broken windows of their cars.
Long a, short a. Not pliss, please. Inhale, exhale.
A custom is a habit. A customs is an inspection.
You breathe the indifferent air, you know you must.
Keep walking. Living is the oldest war in the world.

*

Sea of doubt

Sam Pepys and me

Waked with great pain in my right ear (which I find myself much subject to) having taken cold. Up and to my office, where we sat all the morning, and I dined with Sir W. Batten by chance, being in business together about a bargain of New England masts.
Then to the Temple to meet my uncle Thomas, who I found there, but my cozen Roger not being come home I took boat and to Westminster, where I found him in Parliament this afternoon. The House have this noon been with the King to give him their reasons for refusing to grant any indulgence to Presbyters or Papists; which he, with great content and seeming pleasure, took, saying, that he doubted not but he and they should agree in all things, though there may seem a difference in judgement, he having writ and declared for an indulgence: and that he did believe never prince was happier in a House of Commons, than he was in them.
Thence he and I to my Lord Sandwich, who continues troubled with his cold. Our discourse most upon the outing of Sir R. Bernard, and my Lord’s being made Recorder of Huntingdon in his stead, which he seems well contented with, saying, that it may be for his convenience to have the chief officer of the town dependent upon him, which is very true.
Thence he and I to the Temple, but my uncle being gone we parted, and I walked home, and to my office, and at nine o’clock had a good supper of an oxe’s cheek, of my wife’s dressing and baking, and so to my office again till past eleven at night, making up my month’s account, and find that I am at a stay with what I was last, that is 640l. So home and to bed.
Coming by, I put in at White Hall, and at the Privy Seal I did see the docquet by which Sir W. Pen is made the Comptroller’s assistant, as Sir J. Minnes told me last night, which I must endeavour to prevent.

I take great
pleasure in doubt

things I believe
never trouble
with being true

making up all
the sea I see


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 28 February 1662/63.

Flightless

Sam Pepys and me

Up and to my office, whither several persons came to me about office business. About 11 o’clock, Commissioner Pett and I walked to Chyrurgeon’s Hall (we being all invited thither, and promised to dine there); where we were led into the Theatre; and by and by comes the reader, Dr. Tearne, with the Master and Company, in a very handsome manner: and all being settled, he begun his lecture, this being the second upon the kidneys, ureters, and yard, which was very fine; and his discourse being ended, we walked into the Hall, and there being great store of company, we had a fine dinner and good learned company, many Doctors of Phisique, and we used with extraordinary great respect.
Among other observables we drank the King’s health out of a gilt cup given by King Henry VIII. to this Company, with bells hanging at it, which every man is to ring by shaking after he hath drunk up the whole cup. There is also a very excellent piece of the King, done by Holbein, stands up in the Hall, with the officers of the Company kneeling to him to receive their Charter.
After dinner Dr. Scarborough took some of his friends, and I went along with them, to see the body alone, which we did, which was a lusty fellow, a seaman, that was hanged for a robbery. I did touch the dead body with my bare hand: it felt cold, but methought it was a very unpleasant sight.
It seems one Dillon, of a great family, was, after much endeavours to have saved him, hanged with a silken halter this Sessions (of his own preparing), not for honour only, but it seems, it being soft and sleek, it do slip close and kills, that is, strangles presently: whereas, a stiff one do not come so close together, and so the party may live the longer before killed. But all the Doctors at table conclude, that there is no pain at all in hanging, for that it do stop the circulation of the blood; and so stops all sense and motion in an instant.
Thence we went into a private room, where I perceive they prepare the bodies, and there were the kidneys, ureters, yard, stone and semenary vessels upon which he read to-day, and Dr. Scarborough upon my desire and the company’s did show very clearly the manner of the disease of the stone and the cutting and all other questions that I could think of, and the manner of that seed, how it comes into the yard, and how the water into the bladder through the three skins or coats just as poor Dr. Jolly has heretofore told me.
Thence with great satisfaction to me back to the Company, where I heard good discourse, and so to the afternoon Lecture upon the heart and lungs, &c., and that being done we broke up, took leave, and back to the office, we two, Sir W. Batten, who dined here also, being gone before.
Here late, and to Sir W. Batten’s to speak upon some business, where I found Sir J. Minnes pretty well fuddled I thought: he took me aside to tell me how being at my Lord Chancellor’s to-day, my Lord told him that there was a Great Seal passing for Sir W. Pen, through the impossibility of the Comptroller’s duty to be performed by one man; to be as it were joynt-comptroller with him, at which he is stark mad; and swears he will give up his place, and do rail at Sir W. Pen the cruellest; he I made shift to encourage as much as I could, but it pleased me heartily to hear him rail against him, so that I do see thoroughly that they are not like to be great friends, for he cries out against him for his house and yard and God knows what. For my part, I do hope, when all is done, that my following my business will keep me secure against all their envys. But to see how the old man do strut, and swear that he understands all his duty as easily as crack a nut, and easier, he told my Lord Chancellor, for his teeth are gone; and that he understands it as well as any man in England; and that he will never leave to record that he should be said to be unable to do his duty alone; though, God knows, he cannot do it more than a child. All this I am glad to see fall out between them and myself safe, and yet I hope the King’s service will done for all this, for I would not that should be hindered by any of our private differences.
So to my office, and then home to supper and to bed.

we go to see a man
hanged for robbery

I touch the dead body
with my bare hand

cold as silk
sleek as a seed

and I hear the fuddled
impossibility of a heart

like one wing unable
alone to hope


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 27 February 1662/63.