Dear Readers…

Dear Readers,

Out of the meadow endlessly rocking, with the trees blowing in the evening breeze, and the young boy coughing til his eyes are red and watery and tearing, and the moose calling to its mate, and the cabbage laughing in the springtime wind, and all these things and more will become my body and you too shall become my body, without words, or love, or cathartics, until you understand what has been accept’d.

Yeah, I’ve lost it.

—Walt Whitman