Be Awake To The Details Around You,

And We Can't Avoid An Inch Of Our Own Experience; If We Do It Causes A Blur, A Bleep, A Puffy Unreality. Our Job Is To Wake Up To Everything, Because If We Slow Down Enough, We See That We Are Everything.

We Must Remember That Everything Is Ordinary And Extraordinary. It Is Our Minds That Either Open Or Close.

Our Bodies Are Garbage Heaps: We Collect Experience, And From The Decomposition Of The Thrown-out Eggshells, Spinach Leaves, Coffee Grinds, And Old Steak Bones Out Of Our Minds Come Nitrogen, Heat, And Very Fertile Soil. Out Of This Fertile Soil Bloom Our Poems And Stories. But This Does Not Come All At Once. It Takes Time. Continue To Turn Over And Over The Organic Details Of Your Life Until Some Of Them Fall Through The Garbage Of Discursive Thoughts To The Solid Ground Of Black Soil.

As Writers We Need To Crack Open Language.

Write What Disturbs You, What You Fear, What You Have Not Been Willing To Speak About. Be Willing To Be Split Open.