Write what you know: the faint sound of a wave
that never stops breaking. You have never seen a wave.
What you know: that is the sound of central air conditioning.
So write what you know. The wind, that’s climate control.
It doesn’t rain, not in here: that’s climate control.
Write what you know with what you have, the scrap
of a receipt, the sliver dipped into lipstick. What you know
is to hide, so write a hiding place from which you can watch
them come and go. Write a place where you can hear
the long, hushed roar of a wave that will never stop breaking.
Write a place where you might learn to describe the millions
of enormous things you cannot know. Write a place where you can write.
Size Writes 