Via Negativa

Middle-aging

Dave Bonta — Sun, 28 Jun 2026 12:24:30 +0000

Up by 4 o’clock and a little to my office. Then comes by agreement Sir W. Warren, and he and I from ship to ship to see deals of all sorts, whereby I have encreased my knowledge and with great pleasure. Then to his yard and house, where I staid two hours or more discoursing of the expense of the navy and the corruption of Sir W. Batten and his man Wood that he brings or would bring to sell all that is to be sold by the Navy.
Then home to the office, where we sat a little, and at noon home to dinner, alone, and thence, it raining hard, by water to the Temple, and so to Lincoln’s Inn, and there walked up and down to see the new garden which they are making, and will be very pretty, and so to walk under the Chappell by agreement, whither Mr. Clerke our Solicitor came to me, and he fetched Mr. Long, our Attorney in the Exchequer in the business against Field, and I directed him to come to the best and speediest composition he could, which he will do. So home on foot, calling upon my brother’s and elsewhere upon business, and so home to my office, and there wrote letters to my father and wife, and so home to bed, taking three pills overnight.

from hip to hip
I have increased

in the wood where we walked
they are making a field

and me here in my office
the fat taking over

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 27 June 1663.

Poem as Apology to the Universe

Dave Bonta — Sun, 28 Jun 2026 02:43:15 +0000

For all the times I believe better
to ask forgiveness instead of permission.

For the times I break the quiet,
and all the times I refuse to speak.

For plucking fruit still jacketed in green
just to cut it open and prove it has a heart.

For pressing my eager hand on the glass 
and lifting the ropes, despite the warnings.

For all the times I mean no but 
my mouth, this body, says yes or maybe.

For thinking the world is always willing to help, 
rather than lying in wait as an orange sunrise.

For the hours I let grief eat from my hand
and the nights I pray for sleep so when I wake

everything stretched to near breaking 
will return to its unbroken self. 

*

P.S.: I woke up to this beautiful translation into Ilocano 
of my poem, by Baguio-based poet, scholar, translator 
and artist Junley Lorenzana Lazaga. I have his permission 
to share it here on Via Negativa. Agyamanac unay, Junley!

Daniw kas Pammakawan iti Uniberso
(Poem as Apology to Universe by Luisa A. Igloria;
translated by Junley Lorenzana Lazaga)


Para kadagiti amin a panawen nga ad-adda nga italekko 
ti kumiddaw iti pammakawan imbes a pammalubos. 

Para kadagiti amin a kanito a ti talna, binurakko,
ken amin a kanito a nagkedkedak nga agsao. 

Para iti panangpuros iti bunga a naganus pay laeng a silalangto
tapno laeng iwaek a luktan ken paneknekan nga addaan iti puso.

Para iti panangigaedko iti imak iti sarming
ken panangitag-ay kadagiti galut, iti laksid dagiti ballaag.

Para kadagiti amin nga oras a kayatko a sawen ti saan
ngem dagiti bibigko, daytoy bagik, nangbalikas iti wen wenno amangan. 

Para iti panangpanunot a ti lubong ket kanayon a sisasagana a tumulong,
imbes nga agtalinaed laeng nga agur-uray a kas iti maris-kahel nga ileleggak ti init. 

Para kadagiti oras a ti leddaang, isubbuak a mangan 
ken kadagiti rabii nga agkararagak para iti pannaturog tapno iti iririingko

amin a mabinnat nga agarup maburak
ket agsublida iti bagida a di-naburak.


Prof. Junley Lorenzana Lazaga, holds the distinction of being 
the first in the University of the Philippines Baguio to be conferred 
the title of UP Artist. He currently serves as an associate professor 
in the Department of Language, Literature, and the Arts, where he 
has served for over fifteen years in various academic and administrative 
leadership roles,  including directing public affairs during the height 
of the COVID-19 pandemic. He writes in Ilokano, Filipino, and English, 
and also translates between these languages. He is the recipient 
of a UP Baguio Golden Jubilee Award (2021), One UP Faculty Grant 
Award (2016-2018, 2019-2021), and One UP Professorial Chair 
Award (2022-2024).

Conversion

Dave Bonta — Sat, 27 Jun 2026 11:31:11 +0000

Up betimes, and Mr. Moore coming to see me, he and I discoursed of going to Oxford this Commencement, Mr. Nathaniel Crew being Proctor and Mr. Childe commencing Doctor of Musique this year, which I have a great mind to do, and, if I can, will order my matters so that I may do it.
By and by, he and I to the Temple, it raining hard, my cozen Roger being got out, he and I walked a good while among the Temple trees discoursing of my getting my Lord to let me have security upon his estate for 100l. per ann. for two lives, my own and my wife, for my money. But upon second thoughts Mr. Moore tells me it is very likely my Lord will think that I beg something, and may take it ill, and so we resolved not to move it there, but to look for it somewhere else.
Here it raining hard he and I walked into the King’s Bench Court, where I never was before, and there staid an hour almost, till it had done raining, which is a sad season, that it is said there hath not been one fair day these three months, and I think it is true, and then by water to Westminster, and at the Parliament House I spoke with Roger Pepys. The House is upon the King’s answer to their message about Temple, which is, that my Lord of Bristoll did tell him that Temple did say those words; so the House are resolved upon sending some of their members to him to know the truth, and to demand satisfaction if it be not true.
So by water home, and after a little while getting me ready, Sir W. Batten, Sir J. Minnes, my Lady Batten, and I by coach to Bednall Green, to Sir W. Rider’s to dinner, where a fine place, good lady mother, and their daughter, Mrs. Middleton, a fine woman. A noble dinner, and a fine merry walk with the ladies alone after dinner in the garden, which is very pleasant; the greatest quantity of strawberrys I ever saw, and good, and a collation of great mirth, Sir J. Minnes reading a book of scolding very prettily.
This very house was built by the Blind Beggar of Bednall Green, so much talked of and sang in ballads; but they say it was only some of the outhouses of it. We drank great store of wine, and a beer glass at last which made me almost sick.
At table, discoursing of thunder and lightning, they told many stories of their own knowledge at table of their masts being shivered from top to bottom, and sometimes only within and the outside whole, but among the rest Sir W. Rider did tell a story of his own knowledge, that a Genoese gaily in Leghorn Roads was struck by thunder, so as the mast was broke a-pieces, and the shackle upon one of the slaves was melted clear off of his leg without hurting his leg. Sir William went on board the vessel, and would have contributed towards the release of the slave whom Heaven had thus set free, but he could not compass it, and so he was brought to his fetters again.
In the evening home, and a little to my Tryangle, and so to bed.

music in the temple
rain on the trees

I have two lives
my own and my money

second thoughts rain hard
in sad season

one fair day
the truth is not true

after a walk with
a blind beggar

I shiver from top to bottom
who would not

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 26 June 1663.

It was

Dave Bonta — Sat, 27 Jun 2026 00:24:42 +0000

the uncanny distribution of quakes 
all over the globe,  some deadlier than
others— Did the tortoise in the center 
of the earth finally tire of shouldering 
our burdens and maybe step away from 
the pillar that holds everything in place? 
Yesterday, towers stood like gleaming 
sheaths beneath the broiling sun as though 
they would withstand  every form of violence. 
Yesterday, a sinkhole yawned open at the exit 
from the freeway. Days bare their teeth and 
gums. The wind smears pastes of insect
bodies on glass. I am trying not to think
of these as plagues pouring out of the sky.

Beyond imagination

Dave Bonta — Fri, 26 Jun 2026 13:05:00 +0000

Up both of us pretty early and to my chamber, where he and I did draw up a letter to Sir G. Carteret in excuse and preparation for Creed against we meet before the Duke upon his accounts, which I drew up and it proved very well, but I am pleased to see with what secret cunning and variety of artifice this Creed has carried on his business even unknown to me, which he is now forced by an accident to communicate to me. So that taking up all the papers of moment which lead to the clearing of his accounts unobserved out of the Controller’s hand, which he now makes great use of; knowing that the Controller has not wherewith to betray him. About this all the morning, only Mr. Bland came to me about some business of his, and told me the news, which holds to be true, that the Portuguese did let in the Spaniard by a plot, and they being in the midst of the country and we believing that they would have taken the whole country, they did all rise and kill the whole body, near 8,000 men, and Don John of Austria having two horses killed under him, was forced with one man to flee away.
Sir George Carteret at the office (after dinner, and Creed being gone, for both now and yesterday I was afraid to have him seen by Sir G. Carteret with me, for fear that he should increase his doubt that I am of a plot with Creed in the business of his accounts) did tell us that upon Tuesday last, being with my Lord Treasurer, he showed him a letter from Portugall speaking of the advance of the Spaniards into their country, and yet that the Portuguese were never more courageous than now; for by an old prophecy, from France, sent thither some years, though not many since, from the French King, it is foretold that the Spaniards should come into their country, and in such a valley they should be all killed, and then their country should be wholly delivered from the Spaniards. This was on Tuesday last.
And yesterday came the very first news that in this very valley they had thus routed and killed the Spaniards, which is very strange but true.
So late at the office, and then home to supper and to bed.
This noon I received a letter from the country from my wife, wherein she seems much pleased with the country; God continue that she may have pleasure while she is there.
She, by my Lady’s advice, desires a new petticoat of the new silk striped stuff, very pretty. So I went to Paternoster Row presently, and bought her one, with Mr. Creed’s help, a very fine rich one, the best I did see there, and much better than she desires or expects, and sent it by Creed to Unthanke to be made against tomorrow to send by the carrier, thinking it had been but Wednesday to-day, but I found myself mistaken, and also the taylor being out of the way, it could not be done, but the stuff was sent me back at night by Creed to dispose of some other way to make, but now I shall keep it to next week.

what secret is unknown
to all the papers of moment

which unobserved hand
makes no news

holds two horses
for now and for never

in the very valley where
we sent the night
to dispose of it

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 25 June 1663.

It was

Dave Bonta — Fri, 26 Jun 2026 03:39:09 +0000

the small graft that took, the barely green
patched into the rootstock of another. Or
whip and tongue, cleft together. Meaning,
a wound is made to shorten the time 
it takes to fruit or flower.  Virgil wrote 
of where the buds push forth amidst 
the bark, and burst the membranes  
thin, but we only talk about toughening 
the skin. Legends say the dimpled fruit,
bruised by a forest fairy's fingers, turned
from bitter to syrup in the mouth. Every
change adds another layer. How fortunate
we are to pick and choose what to leave
behind, what to make part of our insides.

Enlightening

Dave Bonta — Thu, 25 Jun 2026 17:52:47 +0000

Up before 4 o’clock, and so to my lute an hour or more, and then by water, drinking my morning draft alone at an alehouse in Thames Street, to the Temple, and thence after a little discourse with my cozen Roger about some business, away by water to St. James’s, and there an hour’s private discourse with Mr. Coventry, where he told me one thing to my great joy, that in the business of Captain Cocke’s hemp, disputed before him the other day, Mr. Coventry absent, the Duke did himself tell him since, that Mr. Pepys and he did stand up and carry it against the rest that were there, Sir G. Carteret and Sir W. Batten, which do please me much to see that the Duke do take notice of me.
We did talk highly of Sir W. Batten’s corruption, which Mr. Coventry did very kindly say that it might be only his heaviness and unaptness for business, that he do things without advice and rashly, and to gratify people that do eat and drink and play with him, and that now and then he observes that he signs bills only in anger and fury to be rid of men.
Speaking of Sir G. Carteret, of whom I perceive he speaks but slightly, and diminishing of him in his services for the King in Jersey; that he was well rewarded, and had good lands and rents, and other profits from the King, all the time he was there; and that it was always his humour to have things done his way. He brought an example how he would not let the Castle there be victualled for more than a month, that so he might keep it at his beck, though the people of the town did offer to supply it more often themselves, which, when one did propose to the King, Sir George Carteret being by, says Sir George, “Let me know who they are that would do it, I would with all my heart pay them.” “Ah, by God,” says the Commander that spoke of it, “that is it that they are afeard of, that you would hug them,” meaning that he would not endure them.
Another thing he told me, how the Duke of York did give Sir G. Carteret and the Island his profits as Admirall, and other things, toward the building of a pier there. But it was never laid out, nor like to be. So it falling out that a lady being brought to bed, the Duke was to be desired to be one of the godfathers; and it being objected that that would not be proper, there being no peer of the land to be joyned with him, the lady replied, “Why, let him choose; and if he will not be a godfather without a peer, then let him even stay till he hath made a pier of his own.”
He tells me, too, that he hath lately been observed to tack about at Court, and to endeavour to strike in with the persons that are against the Chancellor; but this he says of him, that he do not say nor do anything to the prejudice of the Chancellor. But he told me that the Chancellor was rising again, and that of late Sir G. Carteret’s business and employment hath not been so full as it used to be while the Chancellor stood up. From that we discoursed of the evil of putting out men of experience in business as the Chancellor, and from that to speak of the condition of the King’s party at present, who, as the Papists, though otherwise fine persons, yet being by law kept for these fourscore years out of employment, they are now wholly uncapable of business; and so the Cavaliers for twenty years, who, says he, for the most part have either given themselves over to look after country and family business, and those the best of them, and the rest to debauchery, &c.; and that was it that hath made him high against the late Bill brought into the House for the making all men incapable of employment that had served against the King. Why, says he, in the sea-service, it is impossible to do any thing without them, there being not more than three men of the whole King’s side that are fit to command almost; and these were Captain Allen, Smith, and Beech; and it may be Holmes, and Utber, and Batts might do something.
I desired him to tell me if he thought that I did speak anything that I do against Sir W. Batten and Sir J. Minnes out of ill will or design. He told me quite the contrary, and that there was reason enough. After a good deal of good and fine discourse, I took leave, and so to my Lord Sandwich’s house, where I met my Lord, and there did discourse of our office businesses, and how the Duke do show me kindness, though I have endeavoured to displease more or less of my fellow officers, all but Mr. Coventry and Pett; but it matters not. Yes, says my Lord, Sir J. Minnes, who is great with the Chancellor; I told him the Chancellor I have thought was declining, and however that the esteem he has among them is nothing but for a jester or a ballad maker; at which my Lord laughs, and asks me whether I believe he ever could do that well.
Thence with Mr. Creed up and down to an ordinary, and, the King’s Head being full, went to the other over against it, a pretty man that keeps it, and good and much meat, better than the other, but the company and room so small that he must break, and there wants the pleasure that the other house has in its company.
Here however dined an old courtier that is now so, who did bring many examples and arguments to prove that seldom any man that brings any thing to Court gets any thing, but rather the contrary; for knowing that they have wherewith to live, will not enslave themselves to the attendance, and flattery, and fawning condition of a courtier, whereas another that brings nothing, and will be contented to cog, and lie, and flatter every man and woman that has any interest with the persons that are great in favour, and can cheat the King, as nothing is to be got without offending God and the King, there he for the most part, and he alone, saves any thing.
Thence to St. James Park, and there walked two or three hours talking of the difference between Sir G. Carteret and Mr. Creed about his accounts, and how to obviate him, but I find Creed a deadly cunning fellow and one that never do any thing openly, but has intrigues in all he do or says.
Thence by water home to see all well, and thence down to Greenwich, and there walked into a pretty common garden and there played with him at nine pins for some drink, and to make the fellows drink that set up the pins, and so home again being very cold, and taking a very great cold, being to-day the first time in my tabby doublet this year.
Home, and after a small supper Creed and I to bed.
This day I observed the house, which I took to be the new tennis-court, newly built next my Lord’s lodgings, to be fallen down by the badness of the foundation or slight working, which my cozen Roger and his discontented party cry out upon, as an example how the King’s work is done, which I am sorry to see him and others so apt to think ill of things. It hath beaten down a good deal of my Lord’s lodgings, and had like to have killed Mrs. Sarah, she having but newly gone out of it.

for me the light
that would not let

the castle keep it like
a proper god
up against chance

but whether I believe
or not it saves the hours

open to all green
in a common garden

that first time newly built
newly gone

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 24 June 1663.

It was

Dave Bonta — Wed, 24 Jun 2026 21:56:53 +0000

the exhaustion. The drooping in armchairs
at 1 PM.  The restless tossing in bed through 
the night, the laggardly rising in the morning.
Dreams kaleidoscope into a language needing
urgent translation. Outside, in the garden,
birds bicker over a breakfast of shreds.
Does it matter? All next week, plumes of dust 
will move from the Sahara into our airspace.
Particulates may trigger asthma or allergies,
but also exceptional sunsets. Every known fact
delivers us faster to ourselves and our famously
vulnerable nature.  But so does everything we 
hold in ignorance, in abeyance. Come, lift that
pallid shawl. Let's raise a glass to the unknown.

Silenced

Dave Bonta — Wed, 24 Jun 2026 13:02:14 +0000

Up by four o’clock, and so to my office; but before I went out, calling, as I have of late done, for my boy’s copybook, I found that he had not done his task; so I beat him, and then went up to fetch my rope’s end, but before I got down the boy was gone. I searched the cellar with a candle, and from top to bottom could not find him high nor low. So to the office; and after an hour or two, by water to the Temple, to my cozen Roger; who, I perceive, is a deadly high man in the Parliament business, and against the Court, showing me how they have computed that the King hath spent, at least hath received, about four millions of money since he came in.
And in Sir J. Winter’s case, in which I spoke to him, he is so high that he says he deserves to be hanged, and all the high words he could give, which I was sorry to see, though I am confident he means well.
Thence by water home, and to the ‘Change; and by and by comes the King and the Queen by in great state, and the streets full of people. I stood in Mr.————’s balcone. They dine all at my Lord Mayor’s; but what he do for victuals, or room for them, I know not.
So home to dinner alone, and there I found that my boy had got out of doors, and came in for his hat and band, and so is gone away to his brother; but I do resolve even to let him go away for good and all.
So I by and by to the office, and there had a great fray with Sir W. Batten and Sir J. Minnes, who, like an old dotard, is led by the nose by him. It was in Captain Cocke’s business of hemp, wherein the King is absolutely abused; but I was for peace sake contented to be quiet and to sign to his bill, but in my manner so as to justify myself, and so all was well; but to see what a knave Sir W. Batten is makes my heart ake. So late at my office, and then home to supper and to bed, my man Will not being well.

one had one task
at the rope’s end

search the cellar
and find a temple
to a dead man

out of words
out of doors

and so like an old cock
I was quiet

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 23 June 1663.

It was

Dave Bonta — Wed, 24 Jun 2026 01:17:07 +0000

the idea of endless reinvention. Put on a ruffled
collar and hose in the morning, then at noon 
rip that costume off. By evening, shack up
with yourself in a citadel of your own choosing 
and decide you've had it with public life. The forms
of one's solitude are always works in progress.
Which is why you try. You can only try. Life, as anyone
can confirm, is a noose only as tight or as comfortable 
as you make it. Its other name is obsession. The scientist
walked through the cold streets at night back to the lab.
With the lamps unlit, she saw shelves of gleaming beakers,
particles unearthed from pitchblende. The hems 
of her skirts were lined with them. The pages of her
notebooks. A lifetime of following the trail they made.