WORDS are going around. If you get some, give some away.
If you don't get any, give away twice as many.
Method: Reverse pickpocketing. Put them in a classmate's backpack when he's not looking. Write them in a napkin and then switch napkins. Wake up early and braid them into your sleeping roommate's hair.
You're playing, ready or not. Teachers are playing, ready or not.
No one's ever ready to be reverse-pickpocketed.
If you get caught red-handed, you have to take it back. Try again later,
or try it on someone else. Sub rosa. Secrecy at all costs.
Quotations are lame. Write out the whole thing. From beginning to end.
Poems are good for this. The beginning and
the end come in quick succession.
What's good about a good poem has nothing to do with sentiment.
It has to do with its being a whole.
What's good about people has nothing to do with morality.
It has to do with the integrity of one's imagination.
What's good about springtime has nothing to do with the weather.
It has to do with the profusion of forms, things choosing a new shape, trees ramifying out of anyone's control.
There's no better time to read something--not for self-discipline, not for self-improvement, but for the fun of pouring yourself into the form of another person's imagination. Realizing the integrity of that imagination.
We're three parts liquid, we take the form of the glass we're decanted into.
But what's a good glass? What if you don't know what to read?
Ask your friends, ask your teachers, ask me, ask Mr. Siegel.
There are stories on the shelves that already have you in mind,
without your knowing it.
Waiting in their dusty dark between two covers like daffodil bulbs.
Bring them out into the sun.
Make yourself a pillow in the clover.
Put it under somebody else's pillow.