Remembering two great poets who were also great friends.
Who knows what forgotten chains of association join our night's dreams to our first waking thoughts?
For reasons unknown to my conscious self, this morning I woke up with a number in my mind: 03287. Though ignorant of the associative mechanisms that set it down in the center of the spotlight of attention, I knew what it was: the late poet Donald Hall's ZIP code. Recognizing this, I then dispatched the Librarian of the Unconscious to retrieve the rest of Don's address, which she obligingly delivered: Eagle Pond Farm, 24 US Route 4, Wilmot, N.H.
