An excerpt from:
THE BOOK OF NIGHTMARES
-- Galway Kinnell, 1971

Dear stranger
extant in memory by the blue Juniata,
these letters across space I guess
will be all we will know of one another.

So little of what one is threads itself through the eye
of empty space.

Never mind.
The self is the least of it.
Let our scars fall in love.

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I’m thankful for a good friend who mentioned this author to me just recently -- while passing notes to one another about the importance of memories and rocks and sugar coatings. I’m a lucky lucky person to be allowed to know, to know, and be known by so many amazing people.