Via Negativa

January 24, 2026 by Dave Bonta

Widower

Lay pretty long, and by lying with my sheet upon my lip, as I have of old observed it, my upper lip was blistered in the morning. To the office all the morning, sat till noon, then to the Exchange to look out for a ship for Tangier, and delivered my manuscript to be bound at the stationer’s. So to dinner at home, and then down to Redriffe, to see a ship hired for Tangier, what readiness she was in, and found her ready to sail. Then home, and so by coach to Mr. Povy’s, where Sir W. Compton, Mr. Bland, Gawden, Sir J. Lawson and myself met to settle the victualling of Tangier for the time past, which with much ado we did, and for a six months’ supply more.
So home in Mr. Gawden’s coach, and to my office till late about business, and find that it is business that must and do every day bring me to something. So home to supper and to bed.

my old upper lip
is red in the morning

I change the station
and land in the past

which must every day
bring something up

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 24 January 1662/63.

January 24, 2026January 24, 2026 by Luisa A. Igloria

Tending Grief

river in November light between bare woods and mountain

Sometimes it is small 
as a moth folded in the hollow

of my chest. Sometimes it circles
my wrists and ladders up my spine,

then takes hold of my shoulders 
to twist them into ache. Sometimes 

it has the heft of stone and I 
no longer remember when exactly  

it grew more weighted, or when 
I thought the body could make a little 

more room for what it can't actually hold. 
Though I want to forget, it shapeshifts. 

My only hope is that in staying and not 
simply passing through, it becomes 

the kind of root which remembers 
it can grow into something green.

January 23, 2026 by Dave Bonta

Culture worker

Up and hastened him in despatching some business relating to Tangier, and I away homewards, hearing that my Lord had a bad fit to-night, called at my brother’s, and found him sick in bed, of a pain in the sole of one of his feet, without swelling, knowing not how it came, but it will not suffer him to stand these two days. So to Mr. Moore, and Mr. Lovell, our proctor, being there, discoursed of my law business. Thence to Mr. Grant, to bid him come for money for Mr. Barlow, and he and I to a coffee-house, where Sir J. Cutler was; and in discourse, among other things, he did fully make it out that the trade of England is as great as ever it was, only in more hands; and that of all trades there is a greater number than ever there was, by reason of men taking more ‘prentices, because of their having more money than heretofore. His discourse was well worth hearing.
Coming by Temple Bar I bought “Audley’s Way to be Rich,” a serious pamphlett and some good things worth my minding. Thence homewards, and meeting Sir W. Batten, turned back again to a coffee-house, and there drunk more till I was almost sick, and here much discourse, but little to be learned, but of a design in the north of a rising, which is discovered, among some men of condition, and they sent for up. Thence to the ‘Change, and so home with him by coach, and I to see how my wife do, who is pretty well again, and so to dinner to Sir W. Batten’s to a cod’s head, and so to my office, and after stopping to see Sir W. Pen, where was Sir J. Lawson and his lady and daughter, which is pretty enough, I came back to my office, and there set to business pretty late, finishing the margenting my Navy-Manuscript. So home and to bed.

at night feet know
other things

hands house my head

a pen is finishing
my manuscript

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 23 January 1662/63.

January 23, 2026January 23, 2026 by Luisa A. Igloria

Landscape, with Lake and Pleasure Boats

A salt lick, a watering hole, a thumbprint 
embossed on a clearing in the dusty hills. How 
did it become this fantasy of paradise, willows
weeping with the weight of untrimmed blooms 
as flat-bottomed boats circle the surface of 
a manmade lake? At first, only a handful 
of them. And then, more tourists clamoring for 
a turn. Now there are too many concessions, 
crowding the water that merely flows around 
and around itself. Concession, from the Latin
con + cedere: the grant of privilege by 
a government to individuals to engage 
in some enterprise. Or, the act of allowing 
or conceding. Who gave the first permission? 
They fight among themselves for the right
to the largest fleet. They name ghosts on 
business permits as their children intermarry. 
They forget the history of ruin, how the most 
accurate ledger is the one kept by rain.

January 22, 2026January 22, 2026 by Luisa A. Igloria

Self-Portrait with Glass Squid

Have you ever wanted to be more 
seen but at the same time blend 
into the background, a shadow 
capable of erasing itself until all 
that's left is a bioluminescent outline, 
mercurial tentacles flashing in and out 
of the depths? I've learned about things 
like camouflage, hiding in plain sight 
while carrying a bright orange lantern 
in a transparent bell. You'd think darkness 
itself was passing through me. But it's 
ammonium that fills my body cavity, lighter 
and more buoyant than seawater. Threatened, 
I retreat: pulling my head and arms into 
my own cloud cover, changing into an enigma 
the ocean still can't figure out. Does it 
pay off to be my own galaxy, sometimes 
discoverable and sometimes not?

January 22, 2026 by Dave Bonta

Afterwarden

To the office, where Sir W. Batten and Sir J. Minnes are come from Portsmouth. We sat till dinner time. Then home, and Mr. Dixon by agreement came to dine, to give me an account of his success with Mr. Wheatly for his daughter for my brother; and in short it is, that his daughter cannot fancy my brother because of his imperfection in his speech, which I am sorry for, but there the business must die, and we must look out for another.
There came in also Mrs. Lodum, with an answer from her brother Ashwell’s daughter, who is likely to come to me, and with her my wife’s brother, and I carried Commissioner Pett in with me, so I feared want of victuals, but I had a good dinner, and mirth, and so rose and broke up, and with the rest of the officers to Mr. Russell’s buriall, where we had wine and rings, and a great and good company of aldermen and the livery of the Skinners’ Company. We went to St. Dunstan’s in the East church, where a sermon, but I staid not, but went home, and, after writing letters, I took coach to Mr. Povy’s, but he not within I left a letter there of Tangier business, and so to my Lord’s, and there find him not sick, but expecting his fit to-night of an ague. Here was Sir W. Compton, Mr. Povy, Mr. Bland, Mr. Gawden and myself; we were very busy about getting provisions sent forthwith to Tangier, fearing that by Mr. Gawden’s neglect they might want bread. So among other ways thought of to supply them I was empowered by the Commissioners of Tangier that were present to write to Plymouth and direct Mr. Lanyon to take up vessels great or small to the quantity of 150 tons, and fill them with bread of Mr. Gawden’s lying ready there for Tangier, which they undertake to bear me out in, and to see the freight paid. This I did. About 10 o’clock we broke up, and my Lord’s fit was coming upon him, and so we parted, and I with Mr. Creed, Mr. Pierce, Wm. Howe and Captn. Ferrers, who was got almost drunk this afternoon, and was mighty capricious and ready to fall out with any body, supped together in the little chamber that was mine heretofore upon some fowls sent by Mr. Shepley, so we were very merry till 12 at night, and so away, and I lay with Mr. Creed at his lodgings, and slept well.

a mouth can die
for want of mirth

and the skin for want
of a mouth to read it

we part with a capricious body
to be some owl at night

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 22 January 1662/63.

January 21, 2026 by Dave Bonta

Time-sensitive

Up early leaving my wife very ill in bed de ses Moi and to my office till eight o’clock, there coming Ch. Pepys to demand his legacy of me, which I denied him upon good reason of his father and brother’s suing us, and so he went away. Then came Commissioner Pett, and he and I by agreement went to Deptford, and after a turn or two in the yard, to Greenwich, and thence walked to Woolwich. Here we did business, and I on board the Tangier-merchant, a ship freighted by us, that has long lain on hand in her despatch to Tangier, but is now ready for sailing. Back, and dined at Mr. Ackworth’s, where a pretty dinner, and she a pretty, modest woman; but above all things we saw her Rocke, which is one of the finest things done by a woman that ever I saw. I must have my wife to see it. After dinner on board the Elias, and found the timber brought by her from the forest of Deane to be exceeding good. The Captain gave each of us two barrels of pickled oysters put up for the Queen mother.
So to the Dock again, and took in Mrs. Ackworth and another gentlewoman, and carried them to London, and at the Globe tavern, in Eastcheap, did give them a glass of wine, and so parted. I home, where I found my wife ill in bed all day, and her face swelled with pain. My Will has received my last two quarters salary, of which I am glad. So to my office till late and then home, and after the barber had done, to bed.

my clock is after me
that long hand

now sailing above
the finest forest

I go for another gentle
glass of pain

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 21January 1662/63.

January 21, 2026January 21, 2026 by Luisa A. Igloria

Sky Ladder

The moon suspends itself above our cities, 

its seas a romance whose mystery we haven't 

plumbed entirely though we've sent men 

to leave marks on its deserts, footprints 

in its hills of fine lunar dust. We are always 

trying to bridge the distance between earth and

heaven, climb out of the nave where we bow

our heads like congregants in supplication.

When we look up, it is toward the apex 

of the vault and beyond. Cai Guo-Qiang 

built a sixteen hundred forty foot-long Sky 

Ladder, wire brushed with fireworks and

gunpowder, held aloft by a helium balloon. 

One June dawn at Huiyu Island Harbor, he lit 

and watched it blaze, rung by gold rung against

the still indigo sky. Shrimp boats, trawlers,

and skiffs paused where they were. Villagers

emptying their chamberpots caught their breath. 

It took only a little  over two minutes, but 

in that space, the impossible happened. 

The universe glowed, opening 

the door to every desire.

January 20, 2026 by Dave Bonta

Hot and cold

Up betimes and to the office, where all the morning. Dined at home, and Mr. Deane of Woolwich with me, talking about the abuses of the yard. Then to the office about business all the afternoon with great pleasure, seeing myself observed by every body to be the only man of business of us all, but Mr. Coventry. So till late at night, and then home to supper and bed.

the real me talking
about the use of ice

I see myself observed
by every oven

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 20 January 1662/63.

January 20, 2026January 18, 2026 by Luisa A. Igloria

Luxuriant

Those slow afternoons, she'd lie 
on the couch and rest her head on its arm, 

then gesture for me to come pluck out the white 
hairs from her head with a pair of tweezers. 

Five centavos for each, she winked. Perhaps 
I earned twenty-five. Her hair, still thick 

and glint-dark then as a tidal pool. 
Sheened with a slick of coconut oil,

it needed no other adornment. But
she tried out trends— pixie cuts, 

kiss-me curls. Now I'm the same age she was 
when she began tinting her hair with henna, 

as the shoreline above her forehead slowly 
receded. I touch the scalloped curve 

on a barette, the crosshatched tuft from 
my own hairbrush, look in the mirror 

at the part resembling a trail as the moon 
raises its tortoiseshell comb into the sky.