Sunday, 18 June 2017

counterfeit. new york

I wasn't in new york this morning but it was summer and the roads were paved and they served bagels for breakfast. the time zone was pacific and a war was on the television. i was wearing sweatpants with stripes down the side when we passed the community garden, hunting for coffee and thirsting for a few solid hours together. i think it costs more than a hundred dollars to mint a hundred dollar bill to fend off all the counterfeits. a liberty bell like gold braille pushes off the paper, and blue 100's levitate up a sleeve. i'm calling my pops on father's day, the phone is ringing, mom picks up. i run some interference and fingers through the weave.
vitamin k. 2017

Sunday, 11 June 2017

headlines. worrylines

Being rather tired I forgot where I was going and lost my way, and tasted the tongue of confusion, pitched along to suspension like seeds in a raspberry jam,  a name stained by headlines,  a lengthy thoughtful smoke. They would never find me here. The worry lines began to disappear. No use frettin on gettin nowhere when there was a fire to be made to boil water over, and keep warm by. I mapped my memory tracing lines of your facade with the heel of my boot, in the shadow of a hanging falcon's talons. They scratched below the eyelids shutting out the light to protect us. We would find a plot of land and marvel at the countryside. When clashing on the ground in the air in the water under the earth, your mouth might betray you. Best to stay silent and wait. Still, you're too much, you know. A little south and uncoordinated, so near, so dear to me. Sweet like sugar.  - Katya

Friday, 9 June 2017

early morning americans

struck a balance with all, in the city in the summer after dawn, when the morning bird was heard and the sun at eye level, playin hide and seek behind deciduous trees, while the cat trailed you partways to the cafés, and the barista knew your name without asking, and the statesman laughed and folded his newspaper and nary a phone was ringing, the time was reserved for a church bell and silence. americas were thick with technology, in the cables in the air, and you wouldn't need to care in the early, early mornings. in the city on the streets, face values appreciated and if you looked past the wheels and the burden of homes that were carried, you were sure to find an honesty and goodness that survived any standing recession, knew more than money and politics combined, and had a penchant for pastimes of early morning. as deep as any faith, the devotion. rise and shine, america!

k. early morning devotée

Monday, 5 June 2017

EXCERPT. BOOK#3


"Yes, I have been troubled and I bring my troubles with me wherever I go cause home is wherever I am at any moment. I gotta be dim to think home is static, no, life proves me wrong all the time, stretches and yawns over the blue marble upon which we roll and slip, in our blue dreams it surfaces and dips, rounding us, our edges, in our black and blue jeans, replete with street and graffiti on the walls. A little cream, a little sugar in the coffee and stir. I cannot stop looking at you in my windowpaned heart. Maze. I keep losing and losing you, the rains came and washed you away, the sheets were in the streets and offline, the beats pushing the feet as we walked, the rhythms searching and climbing into the greater sound; the image of what we once were working toward dematerialized again, and just like watching television on the radio it was painful good. And here you are and the whistle has blown, kicking your board up to your hand for the catch, wheels spinning and I’m worried but what the fuck. I got nothing to lose cause with all this time talkin about my faith and talkin and talkin not daring to confront you. Had I already lost you? No, no. Truth, will you lunge at me like this? Boy oh boy. Can I stand there and stand this? Do I have a choice? And yet the big sky is bigger, and I cannot look up and not be amazed by the beauty in a puffed up cloud floating off to nowhere like a poached egg white after the gas is turned off and the waters navy blue… the smiling buddha of spaces, the proclaimer of all things inverted. Girl oh girl. In discordance sliding off a continuum because they forgot to put an end to it. Directly, mathematically correlated to my ability to see what was really going on here in my life, all alone. Yeah, there’s a freedom there. A painful kinda freedom because I will find you if I look hard enough. Painful good. I will get you back, I swear!"

-Ame, Book#3

Saturday, 3 June 2017

peaches. subsumed

all the rest
made me only more tired
so i stopped sleepin

now im
trackin shadows
cross the wall 
while my ice cubes
wave water trails
into ginger ale

rattlin the cubes
against the glass
to remember you

the man above me 
looks off the wall into space
dreaming of life
with someone real

i am sunk into a couch
like buried treasure
all the gouramis gape at me
silent kissing

an air bubble
tough feelings to feel inside
more than i can handle 

i
rattle the cubes 
to remember you

another character
jumps off a page
into my heart

i wonder bout the man 
the life in two 
dimensions. how safe not having
a back to watch

not being real
how safe
how dry
how terrible

you cannot
lend a friend 
a hand or take a stand
brushed off 
like you are. canvassed
for meaning

pretty rendition
come into my heart!
lemme hold you there
make you real
i rattle the glass
and remember you

wax inwards
street sweep the cottons
real estate gets pricey
along the ear canal

listen
i need an extension 
of gratitude
outward. my ideals are almost met
almost
there is

there is
still time yet

journal # june one

Couldn't stand you but
the weather was
fine

I was under it when we got home
and the heart seated in the center
of the bloody thing
making it go

Organized chaos and classified a mess
your up style had gone down
the eggs scrambled
mostly whites the yolks fell
outta fashion

Couldn't stand it
i mean together

The coffee was too
white i mean
                     mixed
                  up with what the cows
gave

I think it all started
i mean ended
in 1992

Wednesday, 31 May 2017

last day of may the reverb

America. was the last day of may and all of the dead end streets look like never ending roads, and all the dead end relationships are enthusiastic pressing another go around with hopes one lucky night of what we once had may carry a small sound around and turn the johnny rotten back to first date territory with long lashes and laughter, and heal the deep gashes like reverb sweetening the deal, to hold a song's triumphant note deep into the memory of the night, a stripped mall's dollar store turned boutique, a dead end presidency turned back to camelot and kennedy days, a mid-preaching pause full of meaning, careless words begin to care, a rebellion to the cause of suffer leaning... it was the last day of may and we have a chance to be deep again, full again, and resonant

GWB BOOK READING 2.14.1

Tuesday, 30 May 2017

what we thought we ever knew about anything

the Sea
her depths
wash out of the green
to constitute
a firmament of
jellyfish

inexact
unspoken
wobbly
uncatalogued

drawn off the balance of
good will

unaccounted for
in waves
in rolls

pretty coins
ripped open
swaying in the
tide

the amplification
of which
throws off
any and all
of what we thought we
ever knew about
anything

GWB READING 2.13.2

GWB READING 2.13.1

Journal # May 29th

The particular oak tree had an attitude. It could see parts of the city skyline the others were not tall enough to catch, and it's attitude was thoughtful, some say jaded. Many families were memorial day licking ice cream cones below, in its shade, and the lines trailed out the door. There was a guy against the sky juggling base ball sized scoops of ice and cream, who lit up at night in neon, and more than one little kid wondered why the neon could not be turned on during the day seeing how the store was open. There was no mistaking the store was open, for there were lines reaching out to the street corner where the tree above was branching. It was memorial day and American jet engines could be heard overhead. The jets could not always be seen against the sky, above the guy and the tree, and you could hear the sound of the crosswalk beneath the jet engines, when people pushed the button to cross. Sometimes when no one was crossing, kids liked to press the button just for fun. The oak tree saw it all. The sugar in the ice cream and freezes was also responsible but could not be blamed. You could follow someone home simply by the dotted line of dripping.

Thursday, 25 May 2017

Grand Theft Life 1.21.3

Grand Theft Life 1.21.2

May 25

The daily life enhancement initiative was set into motion and sprung forward like a tiger, claws retracted for non-violent approach and soft padded manipulation of the microcosm, as opposed to the previous quarter century of claws out technique for random slashing of enemy throats. Said outdated technique had really done a number on the psychosocial sphere, as folks don't like to make friends with sharp claws and cannot see the kind eyes behind them looking softer and aiming to collaborate in a bold italicized continuum.

Monday, 22 May 2017

Kell @ Book #3


"People on the street were starting to notice what a basket case I was, the women and children mostly stared, the men wanted to fix me. A couple of well-meaning bastards tried to play hero and grabbed me by the arm they were so eager to help. Let go of me, don’t fucking touch me! The lucky ones backed away, shocked cuz I ruined their pseudo-heroics, while others dared face me behind their foul breath of omelet and avocado peppered with lox and wall street journal. I hit them with a wind farm of disaffection with the patriarchy. Ya, that’s right, Green Lantern, slow your roll and cool your jets, this ain’t Petrosinella and no, you can’t climb my hair! My performance was incandescent. I zigzagged back ways by alleys to keep from being followed."   - Kell

Thursday, 18 May 2017

cycling adventure (part II)

I remember the moment, standing over my duffle bag full of camping gear at 4am, half-awake and trying to choose between a pillow and long underwear. The pillow won. Over the next several days we woke up from camp @ 530am to a car alarm someone was setting off on purpose (and i thought i got away from the city) to sucker us out of our sleeping bags and tents and inside for coffee and breakfast before heading out for our long daily adventures up in and around Auburn, California...  my decision would come back to haunt me... zooming down steep hills at 7am in nothing but a cycling jersey and t-shirt clocking 40 miles an hour max was a fine recipe for bronchitis -- and yes, it was so worth it. We had a blast, me and my team ladybugs compadres and i definitely contributed at least 250 miles (i confess i didn't do them all this year). 



The weather was outstanding, the crew was incredible, the food was excellent, the cyclists were friendly, and the Gold Country Fairgrounds was a very nice homebase. Nobody got injured (i heard one person maybe fainted) and everyone worked together to make it a safe and sweet trip. I particularly loved listening to tent zippers and trains chugging along, rattling through the night. I hope to stay on the every other year plan but who knows. I seem to have less and less time anymore to do anything. For now my plan is to get back and finish Book #3 of my trilogy -- the Daughter of Darkness series -- so you probably won't hear from me for a while about running or cycling events. 

Oh! I forgot to mention i could not wear my prescription eyeglasses so i got a little bit lost every single day of the ride. We were trying to follow arrows taped to the ground to know where to turn and thankfully we had maps and crew looking out for us, so i never went more than a mile or two off track. Also, in Auburn i greeted a unicyclist with a coffee who was riding a steep grade like a pro, and one gorgeous solitary deer the last day on the American River Trail heading home. There were plenty of horses and cattle and goats and bees in boxes, and the occasional snake which had unfortunately been run over. We also got crop dusted the first day at one of our rest stops. The planes seemed to be dusting us more than the fields! Don't know what that was about - we don't look like crops? - but it felt like a mean country bumpkin trick and we got out of there as soon as we could! 


The final day we rode into William Land Park [via the Sacramento Riverside road and Marina and Old SacTown and a desperate turn through Loaves & Fishes and the Railyards] to a staging area for lunch, and I was the VERY LAST one to arrive because i got lost again that day, somewhere near Loaves & Fishes. I got on course and pedaled hard and made it just in the nick of time, as we had to line up and ride with a motorcycle escort to be at the Amphitheatre by noon for the celebration. A cyclist with a puppy dog in his basket fell over and some asshole almost ran him over. Everyone got scared and angry for a second. Then he was back on his bike, puppy intact, and everything was golden again because the group that was there to celebrate our homecoming was spectacular and loud! And the mayor of West Sac was there to give a nice speech as we stood up with our bikes on the stage and hero medals around our necks. I shed some tears myself, which immediately crystallized into salt on my cheeks. I was rather dehydrated.  


Anyways, thanks to all our friends and supporters, and to the organizers of the event! This year we have thus far raised close to a quarter million dollars! Love from me to you. 


KatYa  'just another ladybug on wheels'

cycling adventure 2017

We are 16 hours from liftoff, the start of the ride at the Barn in West Sacramento, and i am rushing around getting some last minute things in place, doing my laundry, securing cat-sitters, packing my bags, getting the bike ready, doing therapy, and, well, i just had to sit down for a minute, take a deep breath and thank god and the supporters who helped us get here. This is my second NCAC. NorCalAidsCycle 2015/2017. A 300-mile, 4-day bicycling adventure through Woodland to Placer County then up to Lake of the Pines and back to Auburn, down to Roseville and back up again, then down through Granite Bay to Beals Point on Lake Folsom and back home to William Land Park. 

The forecast is just great, sunny weather through the weekend and in the mid seventies. Unlike two years ago I know many people in this years ride, some from the 2015 ride, others from Kaiser (including my doctor who is riding with his sister this year), and I belong this year to 'Team Ladybugs' which is comprised of 4 riders and 3 crew members all of whom i work with at the GHC in Sacramento where I am a volunteer counselor. Feels good to belong and I am excited to get on my trusted ride, the same one I used in 2015 and have owned since 2011, sleek black steel with carbon forks, Motobecane's Cafe Noir. Two wheels and twenty seven gears of delightful freedom.
quentin and k. selfie @ rainbow bridge
All contributions to this cause are going directly to the healthcare providers who locally have a direct impact on the community, offering essential and immediate services at low to no cost and sliding scale, to the people who need them. Anywhere from hiv testing to counseling to advocacy to affordable medical care, respite, crisis intervention and basic needs for indigent peoples who lack them. California is remarkable for offering services that other states in this great country do not provide.
keyko and k. william pond rec
I can't wait for the camping tech-holiday and break from work. I've been working 12+ hour days all this year if you include my job, my new volunteer job, and all the hours i put into writing/blogging, and I am pretty darn beat up and frazzled! Thank god i love what i do, or else i would surely be miserable. I haven't had to train for the ride as hard this year, thanks to the marathon training i did all of last year. 
Anyways, the beauty of life is in the journey, day by day. I wish you could all be riding beside me but for sure you will be in my heart. And may we all be grateful for our health and longevity, and keep the memory of those friends and family we lost to HIV/AIDS alive today.  We will be having a candlelight vigil on saturday night up at the Gold County Fairgrounds in Auburn where we are camping. I will at that time light a candle for them, too. 

love and gratitude,

KatYa   'just another ladybug'

plotting (how to find a pulse)

Journal entry. may 18th. this morning i return to the manuscript, i return to my desk where i belong, to have another go at the trilogy, the daughter of darkness, a five year endeavor coinciding with a sea change in my life and lifestyle. i don't know how this will work out, but hopefully by the end of the summer all these mornings strung together will produce a fresh and final paperback copy of the third book for you to sink your eyes in.

many of you have been on this adventure with me, and i thank you. i am hopeful and invigorated now, getting back to Ame and Bless and Freddy and Maze and Kell. part fiction, part story of my life, it's really a tracking back into my spirit and heart.  some people like to ask where do fact and fantasy diverge? my curiosity lies elsewhere. i wanna live and play in the place where fact and fiction converge, and make a home for us there, you and me. the interplay of what i have experienced, with my imagination.

waking up fresh from dreams to a blue white morning light - rinsing my face with cool water - setting a prayer and intention - placing my fingertips on these keys - feeling the weight of the desk in my wrists - the earth in the soles of my feet... i am finding my pulse.

Saturday, 6 May 2017

off running. always dreaming

Life will always be troubling but we have to find our way and how i feel about myself has direct bearing on how it unfolds. what the hell it wasn't even a magical morning i woke up alone like usual with a not so friendly recollection on my mind and a not so super feeling like i probably blew a gasket. i got up and said hey! it's another effin day and either i'm gonna make something of it or it's gonna bury me. i got movin and french pressed around one in the afternoon, so i could kick it up a notch and pop my eyes in shake my hair out change up and get back to work. sure i said a mantra. i had to find myself in the mirror. when ready i hit the pavement and let the freeway style the day, and i got lucky enough to turn on the radio just before the last pony the one with the patch over its blind eye got into the final gate at the Kentucky Derby, and we were off running. Bukowski was somewhere mint julep in hand lucky ticket in his breast pocket, always dreamin.

Sunday, 30 April 2017

(we are) wall ball material

naked like ankles
bit by geese
scraped on thorns
bloodshot
our eyes
behind caked makeup an
low-grade petroleum
products
our scars

salvage yards
smoke trails
pic'n'pull
highways
bits of plastic
bits of plaster
bits of glass

we are
wall ball material
circa 1973

our water
steady boiling
ona stove
poached eggs
double-breasted
back-stabbings
on front street

the boardwalk vanishes 
in the fog
in the cloud

gas consumption
tele vacation
the coffee
sure is bitter
around here

for now
you made a friend
i made a friend
my gosh

you can do that
you see
young runaway
you did

letter

one lonely night ona
edge ina pool
of light

inscribed by hand
taken from the scene
collected bya squeeze 
ofa heart

folded in thirds
double encrypted
inaccessible to all
but one

like pores
touched by witch
hazel
ona edge
ina pool
of light 

one candle
 night

kept
 from a
world and

given
you



- KatYa

potion

dyscolored
in the foamy froth
so recently drained
boiled off

the scientists stand
fatigued
admiring

language lost
in a crowd of
the avowed

the serum


there is a discordance
a shaking of foundations
if the color hits the litmus test

and meets other requirements 
unknown

the sound
a hollow tone


- excerpted from 
'Heart Holds A Vacancy' 
(KatYa, 2011)

Monday, 24 April 2017

promise

once there was a boy named bee 
upon my knee

softly telling me how rivers
did not reach the sea in the year 
twenty twenty three

some were black others blue
in twenty twenty two
and none could you wash your
self in

his eyelashes fluttered 
feeling me shudder
i could tell 
he honestly knew 

he unbuttoned my collar 
i cried and hollered and then he promised 
just breathe

then rolled up our sleeves so carefully
we could see those cuts on
our arms

with one finger 
he crossed my lips
tenderly looking into my eyes
and

we existed quietly there
until about quarter past one
bee upon my knee
and me

i wondered if all of the darkness
 he shared

could 
     ever
         be
          undone

yet i knew our

                 pain
             was
         the
same


- KatYa, 2017

Saturday, 22 April 2017

journal # 22 of april

the sunlight fell and we rose up
 to meet it everyone
 on the street

it burst into constellations
of broken glass
in the road

we stretched into lengths of newfound
lands verdant green were we

thin strips
followin the tracks
out to where grass prospered

here we forgot all those lives
in the newspapers they
stacked up against
 us

the rainy days
we missed them

Thursday, 20 April 2017

GTL a novella frag 1.18.4

GTL a novella 1.18.3

Grand Theft Life Book 1.18.2

crisp like apples like childhood

i still like apples when they are crisp and cool and fresh, i like biting into them and the taste, it seems unlike life, which is a drag across the cold and hard face of a clock... when i catch an heirloom kinda apple in the palm of my hand it always fits, perfect like a baseball but better cause it's unprocessed, more like childhood when the skin needs no astringent and all the body is firm and thoughts are clear and waking up is fresh and new and motivation is natural and intention pure    - K

GIRL WITHOUT BORDERS BOOK 2.9.5

GIRL WITHOUT BORDERS BOOK 2.9.4

GIRL WITHOUT BORDERS 2.9.3

Thursday, 13 April 2017

i mean no harm

i am not out to get anyone and i doubt i am so important that anyone would be out to get me either. i get upset and jaded and rebellious and depressed and lethargic and dramatic and hyper and childish as much as anyone. i get outta bed and clean myself up and make me some breakfast and coffee, and head out to work my ass off everyday just like anyone tryin to get by in this crazy world. i have trauma in my past which reaches out to grab me, too. i have good memories of being a carefree kid and am grateful to my family for all they did to raise me right. i went a little sideways, sure. who didn't? i have my moments i feel elated and free and my spirit is strong these days. but i still make mistakes like anyone, i have my pitfalls. believe me, i mean no harm. i'm not out to cause anyone pain, and i don't really subscribe to the idea that other people are the cause of my pain. well, maybe sometimes i feel that way. but at my best, i know my pain is my pain, and no one else can really be to blame. not my mom, not my dad, not my friend, not my enemy, not my brother, not my sister, and not even god.

Wednesday, 12 April 2017

wheels

there's really nothing wrong with two people coming together for a time, living together, being together, and then having differences drawin them apart, a change of heart, and then lookin for another start somewhere else with someone else. there might be a culture invested in keeping you together or a family that hopes for you to heal. and yes, you could recover, the two of you, you could but it would have to take both of you with all your might to make it right. all the bad blood pooled up like that. it would be very hard. the world wants you both to make it, yes, the culture, maybe even the family. but suns rise and wheels roll and pavement cracks and suns set, and what with all the change you find it hasn't happened yet? there's really nothing wrong with moving on.

Tuesday, 11 April 2017

this moon is not pink and they-them-theirs never will be

Though you call them the 'pink moon' and dress them in floral prints of the season, the full moon tonight will show their true color to you tonight and let you be let down (or up), and they will light your faces up so they can see how happy or sad you are to see them so. And they will shine upon the phlox they were misnamed after, whose flamed flowers will rise in unison to the top of their stems to peer upon them, and feel their power of persuasion, and the feeling will feel full and beneficial and the phlox flower water will become bubbly and pour pink champagne into the trumpet of the lily. All will at very least acknowledge the full and vibrant moon for their mighty refusal to be classified, categorized, denigrated, or diagnosed. Darwin may well be confused, yet his curiosity a contagion the whole world could catch. The moon was a kind moon, a gentle moon, a moon of many colors, and kept their feelings somewhat to themselves, so not to disturb the galaxy.

little children made a song they like to sing
every april comes around...

then one day 
the pink moon got away
turned blue 
for me and for you
happily and for 
ever

too

GRAND THEFT LIFE 1.18.1

GRAND THEFT LIFE 1.17.3

GRAND THEFT LIFE 1.17.2

Friday, 7 April 2017

when you stay where you are long enough

late friday. i came home after midnight to fall in love all over again, being with you, your stone cold fixed hold upon my gaze, all the week long work fallen off your leaden shoulders, and then we were both of us no longer struggling. replaced by an embrace there on the couch the cats have torn half to hell, believing in the same god who brought us together, rediscovering the colors in our eyes, feeling the common ground of recollected pain, the loss inside our former dreams... against the bright and soft-focused clarity that has replaced them.
midtown. by katya

GRAND THEFT LIFE 1.16.1

Wednesday, 5 April 2017

yes

The quality of life changed, i could sleep at night and stay up all day. i found an exceptional colombian coffee which filled my thermos with a couple spoonfuls of brown sugar and cream, and lasted all day long. i was happily employed in the art of conversation, beneath the surface of dysfunctional meet and greets. spring was coming on strong and every other person with allergies. the cats found entertainment in the yards, after a long winter indoors. i replanted my plant and set it on the windowsill where it prospered. my boyfriend took me for pancakes early mornings, and then we hit the depot for large sacks of mulch, five for ten, and i helped him toss them into the bed of the truck. he took them to the Delta for the orchards.  -KatYa, 2017

Friday, 31 March 2017

journal # march turns away

march was turnin april and i made all my mistakes and i knew it. screw it. im decidedly optimistic with a chosen ascension. left that old reel spinning light down the aisle. click-click-click ridin rails with the tape. broke down that wall of denial.   - katya


netflixxx

the last episode of the last season pulled
all the feelings
outta me
 today

god it felt good
katya. 2016

mood elevator

thursday. pm

starin
at some reflective floor
some polished hall

waitin
4 the doors
to meet

a light
a chime
a bounce

the bottom
falls out

i rolled in
all atomic
uncontained
energy

now ima
hydraulic
haul ina
box

a simple
toe turn to
taxicab flag
hell

friday. am

going up?
ya             (im down)

bouncin
friendly
coffee sloshin
mornings

suspended in
definite
frenzy

the mood

only sleep
can break it
 up

Thursday, 30 March 2017

casting Madison Avenue fishbowl eyes

Our spirits, in the spaces between and apart and far from, are yet to be hemmed in, anyway, they sway in unison with and out of synch then, consonance and dissonance together holding hands, not necessarily about coming together by choice, some were forces above and beyond our bell curved comprehension, and more out of synch are the spirits with the reeds with the grasses with the grains. Ceres. Above overlooking the whole operation, downtown Chicago, casting Madison Avenue fishbowl eyes... against the grain as pressures come to bear in our espresso machines in our offices in our relationships in our lives.

Wednesday, 29 March 2017

today an ICE agent tomorrow an angel in hell

Second only to the FBI in its investigative reach, deep in the pockets of American taxpayers, the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency laid its golden egg and hatched its controversial plans to rid the country of more than just illegals in the year of dear god!  twenty seventeen. Compliments to the chef. They were cooking up some marvelous remoulade to curry bipartisan favor with faux headlines and fear mongering, from here to Hong Kong. Political showmanship prospered out of the loins of homeland insecurity. ICE agents darkened your town hall and mine, to show all communities that they exist, in the depths of adversarial detachment and unavailability. Showing those who have put forth the largest parts of themselves and their lives toward anything of any substance, the door.

luckily the way of the world prevails

I think now more about the one who is there where I was. And how I might support them. Where might they come from to have arrived here? I actually think by listening to my heartbeat, in and out of synch with the many hearts, and watching thus I learn so much of interest. This last part I am saying in my head or you, in yours. Meet me in between the pages, read to me, in our eyes the fires of silence, our lips at night tremble to face the dawn. We seem to have a connection that travels farther still, resplendent through a fog which always dissipates.We share the chill that gives way to the fiercest sunrise, softest where we met, to ever rinse off the earth! Again, we fall in love.

crush

The world drank in a cross-sectioned bit of her life

it was springtime then
the orange crush

all the birds had something
to say

you picked out
the thrush


a million variations
on green

and everyone in
a rush

Sunday, 26 March 2017

you cannot miss my omission

tell us about it
about your path
they asked

listening and leaning in to me
with wild rambunctious eyes

when this moment arises
I say nothing
or little

I may say nothing later
I may never say anything
at all

or very little

you think you want 
my words

yet

you cannot miss
my omission


it is always a
most spectacular
event
four eyes

Saturday, 25 March 2017

the opening is tbd. byo latchkey

we were...

latchkey kids. made deaf beneath 
the wall of sound

of the industry
of the landscape
in the head

we played arcade games
to recover and chewed bubble 
gum and drew on ourselves
with ballpoint pens 

dumb kids. not stupid just 
contextually thin

lacking or without sense or
the means to make
sense

hungry for relevance
starved of context 
ignorant of our rights 

we no longer studied our 
country's constitution
in high school

we microwaved tv dinners
and rode our bikes into the 
night with duran duran baking
our heads by transistor
radio

stressed kids. the trance-like induction 
of environmental stressors fill
the internal auditorium

teeming life of feelings acid-washed
a sensitive study of self
unreleased

abbreviated from an lp to an ep
the world stops when the record store is closed
the opening is tbd

you are all invited
statistics will be gathered
and fall upon us
with friends

new cokes slim jims leg warmers
byo latchkey

Thursday, 23 March 2017

GRAND THEFT LIFE 1.15

GRAND THEFT LIFE 1.14.2

GRAND THEFT LIFE 1.14.1

excerpts of an interview

My work was recently featured on Snowflakes Arise, a Wordpress website. The mission statement of this site is: "separating authors from the herd and giving them one-on-one time with readers." Here is an excerpt of the interview...

MAZE. a novel by Katya Mills: Maze is the name of the heroine’s boyfriend, a punk skateboarder who is slightly psychotic, paranoid and features throughout the story. There is a dark and damaged love story sunk within the plot.



WHY SOMEONE WOULD WANT TO READ IT: The book is character-driven, told from the perspective of a young woman who is struggling to makes sense of her life, unable to deny her shared DNA with the tribe that abducted her, and caught between those competing for her love and attention, particularly Maze and her best friend, Bless. The narrative is first person colloquial, flavored with attitude, a coming of age thread woven through it. Ame makes an honest attempt to recreate herself in the margins of society, and discovers she has inherited superpowers. I have been told (and close to 100 total reviews of my work on Goodreads and Amazon combined, which average 4 out of 5 stars, agree) that my writing style is unique, lyrical and even groundbreaking. Not everyone is into it, so be sure and read the samples beforehand or try the freebie on Smashwords.



Amazon customer: “Katya’s sui-generis style is like reading poetry with it’s own unique rhythm and cadence; like deciphering a new secret language (much like I felt first reading Frank McCourt). Once you have attuned to the pulse, you feel let in to the secret world of those seeking the Tangy Energetic; you are now on the inside, you are one of them. Katya takes you on a journey where you discover what is like to be different, from the dark origins of beginnings – to the heady days of everyday life; playing, seeking, surviving, using, living among humans, helping, energizing, questioning, and experiencing the thrill and torment of loving the one, or two, that captivate the heart.”



Amazon customer: “I’ve read her first in the Daughter of Darkness series, called Grand Theft Life and this book, Maze, like the first novella in this series proves to be about much more than an urban fantasy… to me it’s about love, fear, friendship, loyalty, learning, introspection, hope, mystery, fantasy, reality. All of this is being brought to us in the first two books of the series, Daughter Of Darkness… along with lots of juicy, fun filled, introspective, rhythmical flowing prose, expressing thoughts and perspectives on our world and life within it. Katya writes about very interesting characters and in a style so rich and poetry prose filled that it almost makes you forget the unfolding plot, fed to us slowly and teasingly as we get to know life on the street with Ame and her friends.”


 Katya Mills is an Independent author, self-published with several books to her name. She hopes to become a ‘Hybrid’ author and is currently seeking representation. She's proud to say there are now close to 100 total reviews of her work on Goodreads and Amazon combined, averaging better than 4 out of 5 stars... The link to the full interview is located here:  Snowflakes Arise

Wednesday, 22 March 2017

good night means good wishes

I no longer have the pride of my youth, but I stand tall as ever. I no long carry the false promise of an imaginary future in my head, where all problems have been solved and challenges overcome. I face the rising sun and realize despite its powerful light and growing heat, it has no edges and cannot cut me. We can therefore have a dialogue over our three course meal. Hardship will never be just a memory and the sun has no gender.

good morning  (appetizer)
afternoon  (repast)
good evening  (dessert)

- K (meditations on a rainy day)

Tuesday, 21 March 2017

fear and the medulla

Back in the desperate place the mind likes to take me, where the thoughts are all discouraging and fear walks unaccosted across the oblongata, tamping the vessels until blood pressure rises, I see that I am troubled and finally say a prayer, as my breathing heads for the shallows where the shore has disappeared...       
from King's 'The Dead Zone
what saved me, this time, was drawing the Dead Zone, the paperback, up to my face, my nose tucked in towards the spine, and closing my eyes and inhaling deeply the scent of the pulp, which transported me body and soul into a lovely forest, some forgotten place and time,  from which this pulp was hewn. 


the ides of march upon us, here is my wish...
may we overcome all our fear, live long and prosper

- KatYa, 2017

Wednesday, 15 March 2017

ultra (run 4 life) - conclusion

Goat Hill was a vertical climb for about a half mile or so, around miles 25-6, up to the second to last aid station where I had some more broth and rested for a while before my run to the finish. There was no running up Goat Hill, no way. I kept asking people where the goat was, who was supposed to carry us up the hill? but nobody knew of any such thing. There were a couple of volunteers halfway to the top of the hill with loudspeakers encouraging us on and doing a little comedy routine to keep us lifted. I was thrilled because I knew I was gonna make it to the end (and my boyfriend's arms), and there was no rain.

I took a strip of K Tape and got someone's help to anchor it on my neck, too, cuz my neck begins to ache late in a race; I think it's because I have such a big head! The tape worked wonders and there would be nothing stopping me for the last stretch to home, not even the great riverbed which we had to climb for a couple miles to the finish line. I powered my way across to the cheers of all the kind people who stuck around, wow, I couldn't believe I was hiking and running for close to 8 hours! I found Tosh and we got the signature frog cupcakes and I showed off my silver medallion and had some BBQ, and we talked to the lively volunteers and runners who I crossed paths with earlier. The wind was whipping up and it was about to rain, so we got in the car and headed home.
post race with Tosh

What a day! The night before, Tosh and I drove up to Auburn so I could pick up my race pack at the Auburn Running Company. While we were there we met some runners, and I was able to go over the map of the race and got some pointers from a nice lady who ran it many times, herself. Then they drew my name from the lottery and announced I had won entry into next year's race, 2018. I was somehow not surprised. Just felt like I was destined to do this one again. Auburn, nestled in the foothills of the Sierras and home to this friendly and down-2-earth ultra community, reminds me of where I come from: the White Mountains, Lakes Region, New Hampshire. It's nice to know I can drive up here anytime from Sacramento, and feel like I am home. It's nice to know I get to do this again, and be with my new friends, next year.

ultra (run 4 life) trois

Mile 20. After walking and talking with Davin (a race volunteer) for a while, and having taken whey protein and plenty of electrolyte water, I began to get my legs and my head back. The trail was leveling out after the long ascent. Only then did I realize how hard I had hit the wall. As you approach your physical limitations, you risk losing mental focus and becoming cognitively impaired. Had I been out here alone I could have been in serious trouble, out of water, tired and dehydrated. You cannot see changes in your condition as quickly as your friends can. If you get disoriented and the trail is not well marked, you never know, you could end up lost in the woods for days. Both internal and external conditions can change faster than one might imagine. Apparently my speech had become kinda lethargic and was now picking up, but I wouldn't have known without Davin telling me. I am pretty certain that had he not noticed something was wrong and pressed me a mile back, I wouldn't have asked for help. My mind was doing me a disservice! telling me to stay strong and persevere to the next aid station.

I thanked Davin profusely and he went on to help another runner who needed him. I got inspired by all the runners passing by with words of encouragement. Then I was able to help an older man who needed a strip of K-Tape for the pinched nerve in his neck. I brought some in my wristband. I would see him and Davin again, eating BBQ in the village at the end of the race, and we would be all smiles and gratitude.

The trail leveled out, thank god, and we came up on the mile 21 aid station, only ten miles to go! The sun came out (despite forecast for afternoon rain) and I grabbed some tasty broth and an energy bar and sat myself down in the grass for several minutes to catch some rays and thank my lucky stars (with a prayer) that I had survived the wall!
finish line 2017 wtc50k
The next 5 miles was like one long even cut in the side of this mountain, overlooking lush foothills and the canyon. They call this area 'Auburn Lakes Trails' and what with the sun peeking out of the cloud cover this afternoon, the river far below us, it was magical! All our climbing paid off. The pain I felt earlier was replaced by an inner calm, and a woman named Lydia stopped to give me her own special cocktail, two Advils and a Tylenol. She said 'they tell you to stay away from the NSAID's while running, but i say fuck it' and we both shouted 'fuck it!' together in one burst of comradery before she flew on past me up the single track. I was gonna take my time getting home.

Tuesday, 14 March 2017

run 4 ultra (run 4 life) deux

The single track led us down to our first river crossing and my feet were suddenly cool and wet, but my socks and shoes vented the water perfectly, turns out I would have no trouble with the half dozen river crossings throughout the course. I looked forward to the cool waters. Next we rose up and traveled along a hillside which afforded beautiful views of the forest and the river now far below. There would be a lot of mud in the first 8 mile loop, before coming around to the starting gate and our little ultra village and family. I ran with a nice lady for a while who told me all about her horses on a ranch in Livermore where she lives. There was a man behind me who took a heavy tumble, and we stopped to see if he was okay and he gave a spirited yell, 'it's not a race unless i fall!'

K before 50k

I was in great spirits by the time I saw Tosh (mile 8) who ran a quarter mile alongside me to the first aid station, where I stopped for a tasty chocolate peanut butter bar, and said goodbye to my brother who wished me well. He even put my nieces on the phone for me to say hello before we parted ways; he had to go back home to the Bay Area. I was so happy he showed up for me today.

I got back on the trail feeling good. We made our way down and around and down a few miles to the fire road, crossed and headed down the long quarry road in the canyon which ran alongside the roaring green river for another 5 miles or more. I did well on the downhills, running 9 minute miles. I thought I was in good shape with my belt full of roctane and water bottle full of gatorade, and my potassium salt S-caps. But I realized on Quarry Road that my legs were starting to feel heavy, and I began to worry about my failure to train on hills all winter long. I could be in big trouble! The only elevation I trained on was a 5 mile run up and down the Blue Ridge Trail, overlooking Lake Berryessa in Winters. The problem was I got poison oak on that trail and so I never went back to the hills.
K finishes 50k
No amount of energy I consumed was gonna help me up the side of that canyon, which switched back and forth from about mile 15 to mile 20... it became a truly brutal and endless hike for me. My head got light, legs heavy, and my asthma kicked up, and my hopes of having a strong and level journey like I had running the CIM just 3 months earlier, were dashed. I had to slow and step off the trail to let dozens of runners hike up past me, and several were kind enough to ask me was I okay and offer help. I finally agreed I needed help around mile 19, when one of the 'Safety Sweeps' named Davin saw I was in trouble. He began refilling my empty bottle with electrolyte water, while telling me about his quest to run the coveted Western States 100 mile race before he's 50 years old. He has 3 years experience running ultras, and he's 47 now. Parts of this particular race, the Way Too Cool, overlap with the Western States Trail. Listening to Davin's story helped me take my mind off of the wall...

run 4 ultra (run 4 life)

March 4th, 2017 in Auburn, California (#wtc50k) was the longest (7hours:46min) and farthest (50 kilometres) I ever ran in my life. Not a particularly impressive pace, just an extreme athletic effort to keep myself in tune with the world and its demands.

This was a trail run through the American River Canyon, with river crossings and over 4,000 feet ascension, and my first major 'norcal ultra' event. I was very excited for a whole lotta fun and adventure, and the only problems I faced leading up to the event were poison oak and heavy rains in January and February in Sacramento where I live and train, which caused the American River to grow and grow, and some of my runs had to be cut short due to trails and water fountains I relied on being deluged and underwater!
K before the 50k
What an exciting winter -2017- watching the drought in our region come to a muddy and verdant conclusion! The same could be said of my run.

I arrived with my boyfriend by my side in the little town of Cool, and we parked the VW and met up with my brother by the starting line (along with 999 other runners) where the little ultra village was setting up. I realized I had forgotten my inhaler and found the medical tent where a very kind lady (one of the volunteers) decided to rescue me with her own inhaler, which she ran off to get from her car. She would be the first of many volunteers who stood out for me this day, and without whose support I never would have finished the race. I am grateful to them all!
famous wtc frog cupcakes
We took a couple pics and I did a little dance on a snapchat my brother recorded for my nieces to enjoy, and before long I was off with the second wave, running down the access road past our little cheering norcal family assembled there on this little hill, heading for the muddy canyon trails. I was wearing my New Balance Leadvilles and my Run the Parkway shirt from last November's 20-mile run in Sacramento, which was my first ever race. I hit a wall pretty hard in that race, then made it through the CIM (one month later) without a bonk (my first road marathon). I had to wonder, was I headed for disaster today, or another strong and even finish?

Friday, 10 March 2017

ten. indivisible

i breakdown, too. useless, not unlike a chevy silverado, nothin in the tank. if there's no coffee in me by 6am, make a lawn ornament outta me. so i start early, crackin those beans through the grind, by hand sometimes, yawnin bedhead and all, spring winter summer and fall, gotta keep myself runnin and runnin along, so i can be luscious good and vitamin k for you, my love, roarin my middle age burnin fuel with that special manner makes all the millenials turn their heads, double take, slap their faces to wonder where the hell i came from? yes, i am my own sensation, out in the wild west of this great nation, one being, guarded, sentient, indivisible, under god, and irreverent to the core. last week against all odds ran my first ever ultra, just ran and ran eight hours long like a lunatic, up and down quarry road through the american river canyon, drawing poison oak for the second time in three months, so sore for three days i could hardly walk and find me thrilled through the pain... just now i saw the county job i applied for has hit processing stage, so juicy like a quarter orange shall i climb out of my navel and squeeze on to the commodity, precious life, dear god, and hopefully get around my self center and finalize my time, this life, on the carrying about in service to those less fortunate, county state country corner, with a beating heart and a backpack and a rushing spirit glancing off the darkness like light does. that's all i want, anyway.

Thursday, 9 March 2017

dream sequence. march nine

What if I cannot live with anyone, ever again, I thought to myself, before falling asleep. I have been tired since I asked him politely to leave. He did not take it very well, and I did not take his not taking it well, well. I was tired by trying to share my space, and by trying not to share my space, and fell fast asleep.

Up the stairs the atmosphere was boisterous, everyone seemed happy like evolved, and my mind kept turning us over and over, wondering why we were so quiet, down here, so reserved, like somebody had died. I was in the midstream (exactly halfway up a long and straight stairwell) when the matron of the house came about before bed asking around and offering her hand, to make the last hour a good one, keeping us safe and needless, tidying up.

Her daughter, my friend, had left a small book behind, with a cover splashed in pink, which stood up on the floor by the couch. What if she never returns, ever again? The book had small truths littered about its pages. I wanted to offer it to the contemplative boy across from me on a broken chair, but I could not move. I'm not much of a lucid dreamer.

She spoke to us kindly, my friend's mom, she made me feel I was helping her just by being there. She had always been the kind to illuminate your presence for you. When I awoke, I wondered would I see her, ever again? She died many years before.

Wednesday, 8 March 2017

MAZE - an ebook

AUTHOR: Katya Mills
PUBLISHER: Amazon / CreateSpace, 2015

SUMMARY: In modern day America, there are those -- indiscernible from you and me -- who thirst after (human) fear. Ame, in her twenties and the heroine of this tale, has fallen in with them. As a youth she had the same light in her eyes and androgynous form, which marks them. She was abducted and taken to Oakland, California, where she comes to terms with her own dark heritage. Her love interest, a resilient young punk named Maze, skateboards into her life and together they roam the streets, seeking and extracting fear from Ordinaries. Conflicted by her own violent nature, Ame has become nevertheless intoxicated by her new life and associations. Meanwhile, lurking around the boarding house where Ame and Maze stay, a Malafide is busy trapping and hollowing out Ordinaries and leaving them shells. Ame discovers her little sister Kell, in the grips of a terrible addiction. Just as Ame seems to have found her rhythm in the chaos of this new world and city, Kell disappears. Then, searching for her sister, Ame unravels a secret buried on the tapes of a security camera, which threatens to uproot her once again.

cover of Maze
BACK STORY: I wrote this novel as a way of making sense of a decade living in Oakland, California, which is where it is set. I consider it a creative nonfiction of sorts, but I pubIished it as a fiction, having touched up many of the characters with superhuman capabilities. Having an emotional connection to a place is the foundation off of which I like to build my fictions. Submission of this book won me a table at the Sacramento Library’s 2016 Author Festival. This is my third publication, and sequel to my novella Grand Theft Life, which you can read for free on Smashwords @ https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/550226 I consider Maze a freestanding book, and Grand Theft Life makes for a good introduction.

Tuesday, 7 March 2017

journal. march seven

We hung on to the social medias lookin for compadres, someone who got us, who felt what we been through, so we could identify and reclaim our forgotten selves. our standard was downgraded to substandard. we were told our employ of social medias was a worthless trade and destined to further alienate us. why would we let them take us? why then let go, to fall on an easy clawed at chair of fake news? we held on tight, we lashed our wrists to the planks and spun around slow in electric current, just the same. we were hard-headed creatures not easily concussed. our hearts then soft, thawed into spring.

Thursday, 2 March 2017

indie author KatYa


indie author KatYa
I am an Independent, self-published with several books to my name. I do hope to become a ‘Hybrid’ author some day, and am currently seeking representation (of course I wouldn’t wanna lose my humanity or anything). I’m proud to say there are now close to 100 total reviews of my work on Goodreads and Amazon combined, averaging better than 4 out of 5 stars. I also blog daily and publish flash fiction and creative nonfiction on my website, which has over 150,000 pageviews to date. I started a storytelling project on my youtube channel, where I read my work and enjoy creating video books, reading and writing have always been close to my heart. I get a lot of my ideas while running along the American River, and ran my first marathon last year. Soon I will be running in the ‘Way Too Cool’, my first Ultramarathon on the trails in the American River Canyon and I cannot wait! I do have to slow down my superhero once in a while and morph into a social worker to pay the rent, and have been counseling indigent peoples with mental illness for over a decade. In case you fancy degrees, I have a BA in English from Northwestern U. and a MA in Counseling Psychology. I play guitar for my 3 cats in my spare time, and have lost many a boy and girlfriend over my screeching insolence. I also roast and drink a lot of coffee, what’s new? I love to walk around cool neighborhoods and loiter around sweet coffeehouses, too.

Tuesday, 28 February 2017

the sky and the tree

It need not be so complicated
for you and
for me

said the sky

looking with warmth
upon the tree

but when
oh when
will all become clear?

asked the tree
shaking in the wind

when it rains
when it rains
when it rains



Monday, 27 February 2017

to all aspiring artists

You can be an artist if you are creating as you go. you live your life and you record it with whatever materials you choose, in whatever way you wish to record it, not necessarily how it appears to you, but how it feels to you, not necessarily each and every thing which transpires, but those instances which stand out for you, for whatever reason, good or badness aside, morality unnecessary, judgment removed, recounting perhaps some infinitesimal change may have established in your thoughts, feelings, sentiments, or even your style, behavior, fashion, or manner of dreaming or daydreaming, it's all up for grabs, whether it pushed you forward, pulled you in or dropped you out, whether it silenced you, gave you pause, made you more vocal or expressively settled you into new rhythms or arrhythms. you can be an artist in any medium but if you wanna be an artist try to be an artist every day. the chore may feel quite burdensome at times, and especially at the start but not only in the beginning, either, very often midstream, do not let this deter you, this aversion to effort, do not mistake it for a lack of inspiration, okay, we all get tired by work on mammoth projects in need of our unceasing attention, just battle on through and love yourself more for your ceaseless, tireless devotion to what you do. and remember, when you come across a crisis of confidence in yourself, perhaps in the face of the contender, or in light of a culture which has not yet opened its eyes to you, to your content, remember the unquestionable and valid fact of your life, that only you have lived this life, this life can neither be price-tagged nor questioned, this life is yours and your alone and you are and always will be its great historian. and without you telling it, showing it, representing it? it will not otherwise be known! let this thought alone drive you forward in your quest!

Sunday, 26 February 2017

Grand Theft Life Book 1.11.2

Grand Theft Life Book 1.11

give free or die

I wish i could stop myself, arrest my forward motion, always in a rush the way i am, to be there for someone who is calling on me, in a hallway, on the street, out in the front yard or on the sidewalk heading to or from work or errands. Often they call and they always have. Years ago i stopped stopping for them, to give them my time and attention, no, i taught myself not to give my presence and maybe only a smile or not, giving nothing else but a smattering of words, before making my way to the next destination in a rush. i was usually in a rush. i still am. but it was more than that, i was also fearful and guarded of people from a young age, you see, i was the exact same age as the first kid whose face was plastered on the side of every whole milk carton back in the 1980's. those kinda happenings were iconic then and remembered dearly today, too, for they changed the operation of many a nuclear family, and likely the percentage of latchkey kids fell down for a moment, as mothers and fathers and aunts and uncles began to watch a touch more closely their kids. all i remember is i was called home many early evenings when i preferred to be out wandering the streets with my young friends. i thought surely when i reached double digits i could be trusted to come home in my own time, but nope it rarely happened. sure there was a lot of freedom, after all, this was america and this was new hampshire and this was live free or die country. so i did my fair share of wandering, skateboarding around playing cards, chewing bubble gum, and making out with other kids. still, guardedness got drilled into my dna and today it takes a concerted effort to open my heart to anyone at any time, for i always feel like many particles of magnet being sucked north. there must be a mantra in my head to help me along back into my original open and giving ways. give free or die! that's the one! i found it! now to put it in motion and change my life, i cannot wait! to start stopping for them again! fresh! to stop when i think i am in a rush and ask myself, why, katya, are you in such a rush? where really do you think you oughta be at this moment? can it not be here? with this one who is calling upon you in a simple greeting and willing to stop and give themselves freely to you? are you not honored? and can you not stop also and honor them with your presence? give of yourself freely today? what is the cost of all these moments in the halls, on the sidewalks of the world, in the streets, in the parks? the cost, my friend, is the life itself. for what is living if not sharing and loving and caring? these small exchanges, when widened and opened and made space for, they are the life! are they not? please, give free or die, i pray that i may answer the call of my people in the world, and today may i be with you. for you are all i really have, and i am yours.

Saturday, 25 February 2017

eyelids fallen like my guard - cut #3

I suffer headaches
Tension too thick to mention

You know. I know. We all know. 
I know we all know what is 
about to happen

sentiments left touching
 thin air

original
 firm
 comforting handshake
 they had

time trails into some 
second hand see ya
 later 

lead into some 
cold
   late
    lonely night pin cushion

 never to 
return


you, too, would have left it that way...
like i had to... 
let it go...

like i
did

you would have had me
 leave it like up and
    walk away would 
not you

before you
found and held
and loved the fuckin
hell out of 
me

mercilessly

to the expense
of my breath
of my lungs
pressing me
pressing in on me
pressing me out all whole again
in the end

goddam i miss you
goddam

Friday, 24 February 2017

imprinted. 4 life

These are not simply memories which are recalled to haunt and thrill me from time 2 time, no, these experiences I have had, the powerful ones, are accessible always, and you will find them in the way I speak, the way I think, the way I walk, the way I feel... you see, my friends, we have been imprinted and this is 4 life.

The life (lived) sinks to the deepest part of you, floating in a pendulum arc to rest upon your bedrock, where all is cool and slow-motion, your hard drive, safe and preserved, and takes form of an emanation, begins to glow! The loves, the friends, the places, the losses, our greatest moments and cavernous falls. The rush of it all, and yet resides in us, and when we meet again following some passage in time, you see the change in me, and I the difference in you. This light is not unlike sitting down with the beaten back pages of your favorite book, water-stained and dog-eared, tarnished and soft in your hands in your belly in your heart on a rainy day, deeper than any tattoo.

A song comes along in the cloud, have I told you how it hits me? Any one of the numbers between 1973 and 2017 and now I am all curled up focused in the center of the novel, all the many faces all the actors situating themselves inside the pressure of my blood. The world is one of endless colors then. I am who I was all over again, and it makes me.

It made me so. Made me who I am and for that I am thankful. I will never regret a drop of it, a day, an hour, a starstruck moment in my own endless night.  I may have changed, my dear, but only for the better and only for the best!  I am and we are all of the world which has touched us, though we maybe long ago hiked ourselves right off that decrepit map... we found bypass.

  - KatYa, 2017

Thursday, 23 February 2017

the last living smile

many years from now
when shyness is the greatest of virtues
and skepticism the license
to live

your eyes will come up over the ledge
of some old tome so heavy
in your hands

in a bare reading room
in the last living library
against the ticking
muffling the heart of
this city

and ask me
out from under the skein of our technocracy
what is goodwill?

and like a sun just risen
above any horizon
i will decorate the room
your face

will decorate
the room
my face

with the ancient
 smile

Wednesday, 22 February 2017

we are young -ii-

i hurt by all the friends i lost
by my involvement more than anything
 they ever did

a revolving door of well-meaning kids 
who tried to help this kid 
when this kid was deeply
 unreachable

now and again a horror
such a demon at times
 i been 

have i healed or will i ever
be so terrible you will
not wanna remember me

turn the blinds down
light up the no vacancy
keep me far away

have i done the same
 to you

i believe i suffered 
(before and after you)

i am young

lead me -- oh! -- very young what 
of darkness and derision
 to faith from 
indecision

inside out of me 
-- of us all -- like 
vapors we pass
 through

change us
 i am sorry

as we get older i believe
 in our presence
 
we are young

Tuesday, 21 February 2017

we are young

The days run away and I cannot do anything about this, I do not understand my age. I suppose we are all very young, even the very old, and this appeases the cruel god who comes out from time to time to command us away, life changes and we are not welcome anymore...
                                                                                                                  you are done with me and i am done with you and all our messy nonsense of two thousand three hundred forty-five yesterdays. I cannot say what came over me but i remember crying when i knew i was no longer gonna be protected or saved. I was to be blooded and charged with my Appetite For Destruction and to carry all the old Lies again, in rare form; they coulda made a fine killer of me, at the academy...
                                                                                                                                                            what I want to say is, losing you, this was one of the saddest of neverending losses, what i wanna say is sorry. and you have no need to forgive me unless it helps you -- please -- i think i forgave myself but i wonder -- when i hurt -- thinking of all the times you told me fuck off  

before i finally did

Saturday, 18 February 2017

once dream cars now we need help

We need help, too, our once dream cars now smoking on the freeway and off the next exit not far from home, thankfully, pulling over to the side of the first street off the ramp not being swept today and no meter, thankfully, and not the worst neighborhood in the good old usa, thankfully, and release the hood and look under it at the old beast, V8 like the juice, and the radiator's miserably old and fucked, she's gonna need to be cool before we wanna twist that top, we need help and we drop the hood and head in any direction, searchin ourselves for the local friend to lend a hand, cell phone's dead, legs dead from a heavy day of work in the city, week long and no one's home to put an iron to those worn out clothes, the way we dress reflectin our feelin inside, we need help, edging over a desk into an office space, delivered back with an easy full swipe of any screen, lit like a lamp with a high wattage eco-unfriendliness in the atmosphere

after hours cuz there's nothing else to do, overtime cuz extra cash is a screw, locking into union squares with high echelon affairs, all these bios laid out sick and sweetly with photos on websites pushing free streams well into the vingt-et-un of our recorded history, centuries upon centuries of layer cake separated by cream cheese, thought we had a whole generation of twenty/something concentration high kids worldwide leaning and dancing into our wondrous worlds of fluff, they definitely related well with our sundried front street placard mentality, they did our snuff, waxed with plastic veneer smiles over reality. we thought we were badasses big thumbing and wet through sacred pages now soiled -- and oh how we fell -- cried when we came across our beloved mimeo-copied verse, generous endowment long, sticky fat thumbprints on the cornices, pages I through XLX... who needs sex? not us, thankfully. we need help.