“Go for broke. Always try and do too much. Dispense with safety nets. Take a deep breath before you begin talking. Aim for the stars. Keep grinning. Be bloody-minded. Argue with the world. And never forget that writing is as close as we get to keeping a hold on the thousand and one things– childhood, certainties, cities, doubts, dreams, instants, phrases, parents, loves– that go on slipping , like sand, through our fingers.”
If the poet seems to be posting more infrequently, she lays total blame on the end of the college semester, the overflow of homework, and the terror of finals, which continually encroach upon—ultimately destroy—her free time. Until the end of finals, any poetry posted may seem desperate, determined, optimistic, and occasionally fatalistic. She offers her sincerest apologies, and has no idea why she has suddenly taken to speaking in the third person.
Where do you start? Right where you are.
What do you use? The tools that you have.
What do you do? The absolute darn best that you can.