This one was sent me by my dear friend and beautiful soul, Pierre Charles, who is following his heart’s call to study art and sculpture in Nova Scotia. (Pierre took a poetry and sculpting workshop taught by Stuart Kestenbaum last summer at Haystack School of Art and Craft in Maine). I just love Kestenbaum’s last lines, the ones about writing letters as if your life depends on it, letters that say what you love… for some reason, that really resonates with me!
The P.O. Box has seen so much of the world
without leaving 04627, its surface a patina of sorrow
left by starving children, the horrors of
the Klan and diseases that must be conquered.
Still there is always an opportunity to win millions
of dollars, in a letter that comes in your name
from your friend Ed McMahon. And look, there
are TVs to buy, chickens are on sale
and your septic system’s life can be extended.
It has seen what is owed and what you owe.
It wants to tell you that Ed McMahon is not
really your friend, that he writes to everyone
that way, that you should be waiting for a
different kind of letter, something special
delivery saying “come home all is forgiven”,
but to receive this you need to write letters
as if writing could save your life, letters
that say what you love, the envelopes with
the handwritten address, the first class postage.
(From House of Thanksgiving — order from the publisher or special order from Amazon)