“Someone has been trying to send me a message for weeks—my car keys missing, pyramids of coins stacked neatly in corners, lamps turned on I know I’ve shut off, toast crumbs on the counter make the profile of a face.The scuttling in the attic does not sound animal—when I climb up there’s old insulation, inches of dust and this heaviness I can’t shake.If I could mail one letter to the dead, it would be a chain letter—Send this to the ten people you loved the most— to see if it returned to me.”

“By writing this, knowing  that there was a chance he'd read it, i was up to my old tricks. Was I not sending an open letter hoping for some kind of response, in return?”

“You're gone. No mailing address.But I send you letters anyway.”

“I didn't mean to send love letters, but that is what they became. On their way to you, my words turned into heartbeats on the page.”

“Yes, I received your letter yesterday
(About the time the doorknob broke)
When you asked how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they’re quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can’t read too good
Don’t send me no more letters, no
Not unless you mail them
From Desolation Row-Bob Dylan, “Desolation Row” (1965)”

“I’ve been keeping all the letters that I wrote to youEach one a line or two“I’m fine baby, how are you?”Well I would send them but I know that it’s just not enoughMy words were cold and flatAnd you deserve more than that”