written words

today, someone asked

me what i do.

when i told her 

she asked, 

“how do you come up with them?”

“i don’t know,” i said.

“i can’t make them stop.”

and it reminded me that

i used to wonder,

are there enough of them?

they seemed so hard to

come by before that

moment, but now,

they’re as plentiful as

the rays of light

blanketing los angeles

in july.

these things, 

they’re that rope

i found hanging from

the sky that day,

the one i held,

floating away

as the rest of 

the world disappeared. 

and as tightly as

i’ve clung to them,

they’re the reason i

can let go

of some things.


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