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White Cloud,
Austin Texas,
1979
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It’s October 2026 and I uncovered a little stack of these rascals about 50 deep and I can’t throw them away. I’ve sent a half dozen out to people in the postal mail.
And my most recent thinking is to give them away. Not a surprise about giving stuff away. But since I have not officially autographed or otherwise made propaganda of them on my behalf, it occurs to me to give these in an unmarked envelope so that someone could use it to give away to someone else.
That’s the phrase. I may very well write on some Post-it notes to stick on the front of envelope. Because I would like to remain anonymous about this. I can’t throw these away. I can’t tell you why and so sharing them seems to be the only way to go.
Love and Hugs, Anonymous
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I asked Chat to comment.
Yes. I understand it as: you found a stack of old poems, can’t bring yourself to discard them, and want to let them keep moving through the world—either as a gift to whoever opens the envelope or as something they can pass along. Staying anonymous is part of the gesture.
The poem makes sense too: “old shoe” gives the heartache an odd, tender humor, and “The feet of my / heart ache” turns the phrase into a little physical ache.
The only part I had to reread was “give one of these in an unmarked envelope so that someone could use it to give away to someone else.” You could make that handoff a touch clearer while keeping your voice:
I could send one in an unmarked envelope, for the person who opens it—or for someone they might want to give it to.
And your phrase works. If you want it to feel a little more natural on a note:
This may be a gift for you, or for someone you give it to.
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