The Epstein Class

Sam Pepys and me

Up by times; and not daring to go by land, did (Griffin going along with me for fear), slip to White Hall by water; where to Mr. Coventry, and, as we used to do, to the Duke; the other of my fellows being come. But we said nothing of our business, the Duke being sent for to the King, that he could not stay to speak with us. This morning came my Lord Windsor to kiss the Duke’s hand, being returned from Jamaica. He tells the Duke, that from such a degree of latitude going thither he begun to be sick, and was never well till his coming so far back again, and then presently begun to be well. He told the Duke of their taking the fort of St. Jago, upon Cuba, by his men; but, upon the whole, I believe that he did matters like a young lord, and was weary of being upon service out of his own country, where he might have pleasure. For methought it was a shame to see him this very afternoon, being the first day of his coming to town, to be at a playhouse.
Thence to my Lord Sandwich, who though he has been abroad again two or three days is falling ill again, and is let blood this morning, though I hope it is only a great cold that he has got.
It was a great trouble to me (and I had great apprehensions of it) that my Lord desired me to go to Westminster Hall, to the Parliament-house door, about business; and to Sir Wm. Wheeler, which I told him I would do, but durst not go for fear of being taken by these rogues; but was forced to go to White Hall and take boat, and so land below the Tower at the Iron-gate; and so the back way over Little Tower Hill; and with my cloak over my face, took one of the watermen along with me, and staid behind a wall in the New-buildings behind our garden, while he went to see whether any body stood within the Merchants’ Gate, under which we pass to go into our garden, and there standing but a little dirty boy before the gate, did make me quake and sweat to think he might be a Trepan. But there was nobody, and so I got safe into the garden, and coming to open my office door, something behind it fell in the opening, which made me start. So that God knows in what a sad condition I should be in if I were truly in the condition that many a poor man is for debt: and therefore ought to bless God that I have no such reall reason, and to endeavour to keep myself, by my good deportment and good husbandry, out of any such condition.
At home I found Mr. Creed with my wife, and so he dined with us, I finding by a note that Mr. Clerke in my absence hath left here, that I am free; and that he hath stopped all matters in Court; I was very glad of it, and immediately had a light thought of taking pleasure to rejoice my heart, and so resolved to take my wife to a play at Court to-night, and the rather because it is my birthday, being this day thirty years old, for which let me praise God.
While my wife dressed herself, Creed and I walked out to see what play was acted to-day, and we find it “The Slighted Mayde.” But, Lord! to see that though I did know myself to be out of danger, yet I durst not go through the street, but round by the garden into Tower Street.
By and by took coach, and to the Duke’s house, where we saw it well acted, though the play hath little good in it, being most pleased to see the little girl dance in boy’s apparel, she having very fine legs, only bends in the hams, as I perceive all women do. The play being done, we took coach and to Court, and there got good places, and saw “The Wilde Gallant,” performed by the King’s house, but it was ill acted, and the play so poor a thing as I never saw in my life almost, and so little answering the name, that from beginning to end, I could not, nor can at this time, tell certainly which was the Wild Gallant. The King did not seem pleased at all, all the whole play, nor any body else, though Mr. Clerke whom we met here did commend it to us. My Lady Castlemaine was all worth seeing tonight, and little Steward. Mrs. Wells do appear at Court again, and looks well; so that, it may be, the late report of laying the dropped child to her was not true.
It being done, we got a coach and got well home about 12 at night. Now as my mind was but very ill satisfied with these two plays themselves, so was I in the midst of them sad to think of the spending so much money and venturing upon the breach of my vow, which I found myself sorry for, I bless God, though my nature would well be contented to follow the pleasure still. But I did make payment of my forfeiture presently, though I hope to save it back again by forbearing two plays at Court for this one at the Theatre, or else to forbear that to the Theatre which I am to have at Easter. But it being my birthday and my day of liberty regained to me, and lastly, the last play that is likely to be acted at Court before Easter, because of the Lent coming in, I was the easier content to fling away so much money.
So to bed.
This day I was told that my Lady Castlemaine hath all the King’s Christmas presents, made him by the peers, given to her, which is a most abominable thing; and that at the great ball she was much richer in jewells than the Queen and Duchess put both together.

no ring to kiss
the hand turned into a gun

like blood on a door
the face behind the dirt

might be poor and therefore
out of light

no one answering
or seeing a child

in the midst of so much
abominable in the rich


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 23 February 1662/63.

Comfort zoned

Sam Pepys and me

(Lord’s day). Lay long in bed and went not out all day; but after dinner to Sir W. Batten’s and Sir W. Pen’s, where discoursing much of yesterday’s trouble and scandal; but that which troubled me most was Sir J. Minnes coming from Court at night, and instead of bringing great comfort from thence (but I expected no better from him), he tells me that the Duke and Mr. Coventry make no great matter of it. So at night discontented to prayers, and to bed.

all day in a scandal of comfort
no better matter

at night
discontented prayers


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 22 February 1662/63.

Aversion

Sam Pepys and me

Up and to the office, where Sir J. Minnes (most of the rest being at the Parliament-house), all the morning answering petitions and other business. Towards noon there comes a man in as if upon ordinary business, and shows me a writ from the Exchequer, called a Commission of Rebellion, and tells me that I am his prisoner in Field’s business; which methought did strike me to the heart, to think that we could not sit in the middle of the King’s business. I told him how and where we were employed, and bid him have a care; and perceiving that we were busy, he said he would, and did withdraw for an hour: in which time Sir J. Minnes took coach and to Court, to see what he could do from thence; and our solicitor against Field came by chance and told me that he would go and satisfy the fees of the Court, and would end the business. So he went away about that, and I staid in my closett, till by and by the man and four more of his fellows came to know what I would do; I told them stay till I heard from the King or my Lord Chief Baron, to both whom I had now sent. With that they consulted, and told me that if I would promise to stay in the house they would go and refresh themselves, and come again, and know what answer I had: so they away, and I home to dinner, whither by chance comes Mr. Hawley and dined with me.
Before I had dined, the bayleys come back again with the constable, and at the office knock for me, but found me not there; and I hearing in what manner they were come, did forbear letting them know where I was; so they stood knocking and enquiring for me.
By and by at my parler-window comes Sir W. Batten’s Mungo, to tell me that his master and lady would have me come to their house through Sir J. Minnes’s lodgings, which I could not do; but, however, by ladders, did get over the pale between our yards, and so to their house, where I found them (as they have reason) to be much concerned for me, my lady especially.
The fellows staid in the yard swearing with one or two constables, and some time we locked them into the yard, and by and by let them out again, and so kept them all the afternoon, not letting them see me, or know where I was. One time I went up to the top of Sir W. Batten’s house, and out of one of their windows spoke to my wife out of one of ours; which methought, though I did it in mirth, yet I was sad to think what a sad thing it would be for me to be really in that condition. By and by comes Sir J. Minnes, who (like himself and all that he do) tells us that he can do no good, but that my Lord Chancellor wonders that we did not cause the seamen to fall about their ears: which we wished we could have done without our being seen in it; and Captain Grove being there, he did give them some affront, and would have got some seamen to have drubbed them, but he had not time, nor did we think it fit to have done it, they having executed their commission; but there was occasion given that he did draw upon one of them and he did complain that Grove had pricked him in the breast, but no hurt done; but I see that Grove would have done our business to them if we had bid him. By and by comes Mr. Clerke, our solicitor, who brings us a release from our adverse atturney, we paying the fees of the commission, which comes to five marks, and pay the charges of these fellows, which are called the commissioners, but are the most rake-shamed rogues that ever I saw in my life; so he showed them this release, and they seemed satisfied, and went away with him to their atturney to be paid by him. But before they went, Sir W. Batten and my lady did begin to taunt them, but the rogues answered them as high as themselves, and swore they would come again, and called me rogue and rebel, and they would bring the sheriff and untile his house, before he should harbour a rebel in his house, and that they would be here again shortly.
Well, at last they went away, and I by advice took occasion to go abroad, and walked through the street to show myself among the neighbours, that they might not think worse than the business is. Being met by Captn. Taylor and Bowry, whose ship we have hired for Tangier, they walked along with me to Cornhill talking about their business, and after some difference about their prices we agreed, and so they would have me to a tavern, and there I drank one glass of wine and discoursed of something about freight of a ship that may bring me a little money, and so broke up, and I home to Sir W. Batten’s again, where Sir J. Lawson, Captain Allen, Spragg, and several others, and all our discourse about the disgrace done to our office to be liable to this trouble, which we must get removed.
Hither comes Mr. Clerke by and by, and tells me that he hath paid the fees of the Court for the commission; but the men are not contented with under 5l. for their charges, which he will not give them, and therefore advises me not to stir abroad till Monday that he comes or sends to me again, whereby I shall not be able to go to White Hall to the Duke of York, as I ought.
Here I staid vexing, and yet pleased to see every body, man and woman, my Lady and Mrs. Turner especially, for me, till 10 at night; and so home, where my people are mightily surprized to see this business, but it troubles me not very much, it being nothing touching my particular person or estate.
Being in talk to-day with Sir W. Batten he tells me that little is done yet in the Parliament-house, but only this day it was moved and ordered that all the members of the House do subscribe to the renouncing of the Covenant, which is thought will try some of them.
There is also a bill brought in for the wearing of nothing but cloth or stuffs of our own manufacture, and is likely to be passed.
Among other talk this evening, my lady did speak concerning Commissioner Pett’s calling the present King bastard, and other high words heretofore; and Sir W. Batten did tell us, that he did give the Duke or Mr. Coventry an account of that and other like matters in writing under oath, of which I was ashamed, and for which I was sorry, but I see there is an absolute hatred never to be altered there, and Sir J. Minnes, the old coxcomb, has got it by the end, which troubles me for the sake of the King’s service, though I do truly hate the expressions laid to him. To my office and set down this day’s journall, and so home with my mind out of order, though not very sad with it, but ashamed for myself something, and for the honour of the office much more. So home and to bed.

an ordinary prison
in the middle of a field

we promise to stay away
hearing nowhere

the wind comes over
the pale between our yards

we lock up the windows
think what a sad thing

become like the ears
of an attorney that turn
themselves off

oh my people
nothing touching us
but the nothing of our own


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 21 February 1662/63.

Migrant Route

river in November light between bare woods and mountain

He said his aunt went missing
last week; she'd managed to slip
out of the house when her husband
was at work, and wandered the streets
of their North Carolina town until she
was found nearly at dusk. She went
past houses with fences, houses with
boxwood hedges, the hardware store
and the shoe repair shop at the corner;
the elementary school playground with
swings and bright climbing equipment,
the trains carrying coal rumbling
along the tracks at the edge of town.
Farther and farther, not knowing south
or east or west. Her thin housecoat
must have fluttered in the still-cold
February air, its flaps like endpapers
of a well-thumbed atlas, each map in it
pointing to the only destination she knew.
When the police found her and gently asked
where she was going, why of course didn't
they know, she was walking home to Guyana?
Isn't it something— how even when the mind
is drifting deeper into a fog, the heart
remembers a place as surely as the day
it first pushed off from that warmer shore.

Blue Pilot Light

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
Catastrophe, always the biggest headline
in the larger world: oil spills, glaciers
calving, an avalanche slamming into a train.
In the Outer Banks, houses on stilts fall
into the ocean as waves roll their refrain of
Doomsday, doomsday. Meanwhile, the earth
softens for spring, and dandelions prepare
insurgency campaigns. I text our handyman
Mark to see if he can help me scrape
the peeling paint off window frames,
caulk the gaps between seams. Small
things like that, we can fix. But I'm
unprepared for all the ways the hours
careen in different directions. What
was yesterday is already tomorrow.
Almost daily, the mail brings a flurry
of invitations to a buffet culminating
in the final, inevitable event: retirement
and long-term plans, Medicare, menus for all
kinds of funeral arrangements. I worry about
my children, themselves trying to clear a path
through this hard and unforgiving life despite
strong résumés, long work hours. Yesterday,
one of them texted me from an automotive shop.
When the manager quietly told her he would change
all four of her tires for the price of one because
he has daughters and knows how difficult it is
for them in the world today, she burst into hot,
grateful tears there, in the midst of air
compressors, exhaust fumes, engine hoists.
With her, I want to remember and marvel at
such strange tenderness: how unobtrusively
it manifests in this life, like the oven's tiny
blue flame that means the burner is clean and
there's enough supply of gas for adequate heat.

McBoatface

Sam Pepys and me

Up and by water with Commissioner Pett to Deptford, and there looked over the yard, and had a call, wherein I am very highly pleased with our new manner of call-books, being my invention. Thence thinking to have gone down to Woolwich in the Charles pleasure boat, but she run aground, it being almost low water, and so by oars to the town, and there dined, and then to the yard at Mr. Ackworth’s, discoursing with the officers of the yard about their stores of masts, which was our chief business, and having done something therein, took boat and to the pleasure boat, which was come down to fetch us back, and I could have been sick if I would in going, the wind being very fresh, but very pleasant it was, and the first time I have sailed in any one of them. It carried us to Cuckold’s Point, and so by oars to the Temple, it raining hard, where missed speaking with my cosen Roger, and so walked home and to my office; there spent the night till bed time, and so home to supper and to bed.

high in the pleasure boat
run aground
without pleasure

I come down to
the wind in the sail
one of them is speaking


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 20 February 1662/63.

Strike Anywhere Match

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
Eighteen pairs of eyes fix on me,
or on anything in the general direction

of the front of the classroom. No one
actually yawns, though their faces look

like yawning. Outside, the rain is barely
leaving pencil marks on the roof. Here,

it's mostly silent. Today the story is
about a pig in a lab, whose organs

are being genetically engineered
for eventual transplant to victims of

a plague. What does the world look like
if one believes in the superiority of

humans to other species? What use-
fulness does sacrifice have in the world?

The students look at me as if I'm the lab
animal in the crate, and they're the scientists

circling the room with clipboards and pens.
I dearly want to know: what will it take

to kindle a fire, get them to care
about stories and poems, warm up

to metaphor and meaning? Toward the end
of the session, they shut their tablets

and zip backpacks close, heave out of their
seats and walk out of the room— expressions

mostly unchanged as I erase the board, return
the matchstick to its box marked "strike anywhere."

Ward

Sam Pepys and me

Up and to my office, where abundance of business all the morning. Dined by my wife’s bedside, she not being yet well. We fell out almost upon my discourse of delaying the having of Ashwell, where my wife believing that I have a mind to have Pall, which I have not, though I could wish she did deserve to be had. So to my office, where by and by we sat, this afternoon being the first we have met upon a great while, our times being changed because of the parliament sitting. Being rose, I to my office till twelve at night, drawing out copies of the overcharge of the Navy, one to send to Mr. Coventry early to-morrow. So home and to bed, being weary, sleepy, and my eyes begin to fail me, looking so long by candlelight upon white paper.
This day I read the King’s speech to the Parliament yesterday; which is very short, and not very obliging; but only telling them his desire to have a power of indulging tender consciences, not that he will yield to have any mixture in the uniformity of the Church’s discipline; and says the same for the Papists, but declares against their ever being admitted to have any offices or places of trust in the kingdom; but, God knows, too many have.

where morning fell
almost as a pall
over the bed

my eyes fail
looking so long
upon white uniformity


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 19 February 1662/63.

Fine Thank You and How Was Your Day?

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
We were joking about shadow bodies, doppelgängers, 
our bodies that don't quite feel awake until they
have washed their faces and drank at least a cup
of strong dark coffee. My doppelgänger ordered
a coffee that the student barista made behind
the counter, but with nondairy milk because of
lactose intolerance and because though I love
coffee, too much sometimes trips up the acidity
in my stomach. Yet I drink it all day long, I
nurse my one cup of coffee and make it last, or
my shadow self will make myself another cup at home
later in the evening because oh god she just loves
the smell of coffee. I've been thinking of the body
as a kind of garden, luxuriant with texture and
scent, dotted with underground caves where fireflies
sequin the water. Not that garden in the first story
of exile where a snake in the grass wasn't there
to play but brought a non-multiple choice test and
a loaded answer key. My body doesn't feel like its
core is merely a leftover rib or an afterthought.
So many mornings my body might feel like a mess
of limbs and thinning hair, callused heels, creaking
knees. But I would rather be a constellation of lights
winking at the edge of the ceiling, festive beyond
the holidays— wouldn't you? In the Bolivian restaurant
where the tamales are warm and the sauce is creamy
with a hint of heat, my body sinks into the orange
bucket seat and feels short as a child, but it knows
it couldn't wait to get out of the office. Someone makes
a joke or a pun. Can't even remember how exactly it went
now— divot, diva, treble, trouble?— but enough to produce
a grand cackle. Funny how little plates of food and a little
drink of something nice with friends is so restorative, even
in this little city by the coast where sometimes it snows
but mostly it floods and likely you'd have to travel
somewhere to ski down the bright, powdered sides
of mountains and breathe in the cold, lacerating
air that says Do you feel that, do your lungs and
the rest of you remember when last you felt so alive?

Self-Portrait as Late Bloomer with Nudibranch

river in November light between bare woods and mountain
No, that isn't a piece of frilly green
lettuce in the aquarium but a slug
which stores chloroplasts from the algae
it feeds on. Its cells continue to photo-
synthesize light energy, so it's no longer
just the dull color of putty but suddenly
the most fabulous creature in the room.
I was never that kind of head-turner,
only the girl sitting in the back
of the room, the one with the sensible
shoes and the sensible clothes made by
her mother, never bought off the rack
from some department store. One year
in high school, the trend was apple
clogs and Faded Glory jeans— the ones
with the tiny buckle below the rear
waistband. I tried to take notes on color
combinations, accessories, the difference
between trying too hard and effortless. I guess
some of us are just late bloomers. There are
reports of rainbow slugs showing up in rock pools
across Britain, little clumps of gummy confetti
bright against rock: audacious carnival of wild
color, though their presence means waters
are warming up even more from climate change.