i found the letter i wrote to you and never sent

Portland OR

Description

when i was emptying my moving boxes and looking through storage crates three or four pages folded up on printer paper in a tiny cardboard box with some used sticky notes and a broken porcelain doll face. and i reread it it's pretty angsty really—I like some of the words but jeez is it angsty. my poetry got better for a while afterwards once i came to terms with the idea that i was in fact writing poetry and then it got worse after february 2nd. i was so close to sending it to you back then it was in an envelope addressed and stamped it just never made it to the mailbox—but i never heard your song so it feels like we're even. i was in the woods today and there were huckleberries and i think maybe i'd like to leave society and just live out there in the trees i mean want to live how mary oliver lived. but i need to be around people no matter how independent i feel and i don't know exactly how mary oliver lived and i can find this solitude without isolating myself—and i think if i was isolating myself it would be hard to find solitude in the loneliness. i'd like to go back alone with a notebook and eat some more huckleberries, though.