Wednesday, 17 November 2010

we fall


we both recently (and not so recently) came to the exact conclusion that sanity had not only slipped away from the day but had the nerve to blow curfew and the night wide open...yes the night wide open was she.
has been.
 had been
   has been
     she was

and looking quite seductive and attracting our energy. i remember with sadness. we remember collectively, dont we?
 we the witches the sufis the mystics the number people
 who lived and died by the numbers, we still do. Scratched, rolled, got high kick adrenaline off numbers. got lowdown dirt broke laid over the numbers.

over the numbers
  by the tracks
    across them
       a double cross them, too

a double cross on this one night. the double crosser three times heated over some petty useless argument murderers murder over. need an excuse, that's all. cannot kill without reason. have no reason. loss of reason. no real reason. loss of reality. loss of consciousness. deliberate loss or...just lost.
Lost double crosser fumbling to get wide of my skinny jeans on the beach last night. tonight. tommorrow night, too. some kinda player he fashions himself. me some kinda someone? his boo?
Well this boo was not gonna open up for no singular double crosser, guess what.

guess that
 if youre guessing
  though im guessing
    guess what?
     im guessing you aint!
 Threw my sandy blonde hair back over my eyes so not to give away whats behind them (betrayal, upsetness, agitation). The colors were changing, my iris, the colors...i can feel them the colors. cobalt blue...
turning royal.

For all i know i am crossed in this setup? its painful. its real. all i know that i know. stop confusion, but how?stay true. dedicated. honor self. how i feel...

how i feel?
 how i know
   this knowing?
      so replete!
           my feelings?
              just so

i knew he was violent, or his means to my end. not that he could help it?
but i could!
just so
just so used to damn violence! yet unacclimated. always im touched! made to feel like giving up. violent with the world, violent with self, violent with me. i got the patch, i got the goddamn medal! ya, i got raped...
are you kidding me?

Come here with your weak game to this ball of resistance. this wall. my existence. come here to my softness. and soft may i be -- yet FULL of BOLD character!
like english

Okay heres something! heres something you need to know. coffee may be your choice, black no sugar, right, huh? im right. i know im right. no i dont need the receipt. i walked away before you chanced to raise your eyelids your eyes to level of your arm outstretched with the white paper flag. what? white paper peace?

you never even caught me half mad out the door
half mad
half out
half lost by
the door

half mad
half out
half empty
half sad

you were sore. i was sick none innocent.
i sent.
  for to see
   i sent 4 the doctor.
 The pain so great. sent you. sent for. lost in it! where were we? double crosser.
double cross and raise you twenty.
double cross. hell. double more. the poverty adds up...
adds up to

you saw yourself then? did you? you seen yourself going?
 you would not have been comin on to your boys about how this bitch was on the take. would you now? would you then? you your solemn sorry self.  just trying to score.

had you seen yourself going down -- you could have, would have, saved your self
again. recounting the drama the day drove into you
 your lungs
   what you call a heart?

you who made the world ache in the eighties. with your prosperous nonsense, your unnecessary...ness.
 you gave when giving itself was on the fuckin take, jake!
 call it!
you must!
a snake is a snake! no one ever mistook a snake. reptilian counters your smooth wanna-moves...
No one.
not even that younger girl you had
down by the small towns
small lake.
 a quiet night it was. and thats what gave you away. too late? too late. too late for her anyway. shit. shes the kinda one im here to remind you of, hello? if not myself whom you clearly forgot behind your made upedness.

i was worn out
was my make up...
 well, just fell. Fallen down in cream mineral, bare essential, straight loss. i gave up on you, double crosser.
you and your double cross.

you see, i crossed too. i had to!
got prepared
  had an agenda
   planned it out
      (what a cost)

Ya I wore the long boots, skinny jeans. You saw, you knew!
 (some might say you wanted it, too).
i feel cursed.
i feel cursed just like you.
just so

you will -- i knew -- you would -- always do
 make me &  you the monsters, in this creature double cross feature.
this sordid rendez-vous.

Made me a star (we did).
i got the feeling awash over me like a little kid. i did.
whose feelings come like waves, roll out like petals to the song of the sun every day.
 opened up. in this state. what state? hey! what state?
was it bliss?
were we pensive?
were we texas?
No, no. no, i never been there. will you take me?
 im a star, remember? THE STAR!

No, no! i wont go then. cause see? im some star, right, and stars shine, they do, right?
 They dont go
   they dont go
     just where you ask them.
Dont listen, stars, do they?
(always gotta get some action)
You know by what you get...
what you get when you ask them.

Royal blue drained to cobalt
i hid this from you.
you did not exist for me, then.
nor did i, for you.

you kill me!
a little more every time.
im tired. im tired thats why im talking to you. about you
to you
  about you
          for you... one nation of you (under you)...
              fuck you

see? we fall down
its fall
and we fall
falling together
falling down...

over one
over all

we fall
we fall

Tuesday, 2 November 2010

so many days (response to so many mornings)

Her letter she shared....

so many mornings her words casting shadows, lightning, flower ash towering then floating toward solid ground...  i maybe wonder if believing would make a clearer path, a clearer way, a nearly even closely brighter day... i hesitate, exhale, inhale, feeling the wiry pulses, dreaming your forever wakening, sworn sacred, prayed without direction, visioning fragments... you and i, i and you, me and my baby sister, stain us red.

dared to believe. so i hesitate again...i fear and hardly fathom... what blesses me. away from falling forever forsaken. i cannot lose this love. 

the stories, the illiteration, the exquisiteness of oh the heart... we cannot lose this now. maybe we
can... we WIll and do transcend our selves the part of us the says we don't belong. even so alone... until You stand exactly before me,  your bright eyes of grean blue shine hue give everything ... give me warmth where ther was only emptiness. have i told you about the way i lovvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv                    

Response to her letter...

So many days
exactly where you stand
i too stand
votives lit and left us trembling with the shadow and light. your lashes flickering in love electric, electric in the night. acoustics of devotion so very nice! just right. Insecurity factory shut down, all the chipmunks been laid off. The smokestacks stand black and stare blankly into our clear skies.

no more smoke
no more lies
no loss of focus
meeting in our eyes

gotta stop the motion, get past the crashing waves and out to the great stillness... of the ocean. Observe. Sit in silence and see? We would be all right and we wouldnt, the forces around us determined. Located us, held us for awhile.  and then we got our chance to locate ourselves, our extravagantly suffered styles! Then we clash, suffer, start over, buffer. go easy. be nice. try and trust... remember the early moments? the rush? the clean attraction? enticing! trance-like! the pilot light must stay lit, to keep us altogether. the candle with her image in water on the altar. may be eternal. this light. to hold up against our trying weather.

Hours and hours of suffering went to dust after this!
Taken by the wrist
Leading one another

see what you're about
see what i'm about
we are like kids again!
like kids!

Contradictory was the sky to the ground. What the ground whispered to the grass --overheard by the weeds. Turned them yellow. gold. what was fresh became old. Without the sun, the ground feels quite cold. seeds sprout up and out. heated. gossip spreads through the gardens. some of the fearful collect in clumps. like islands though. by getting so close like that, see the ground all around them? straight up stark, empty. like coming together caused a great separation. or a moat? do they do this for protection? will they vote in the next election? or just stay static in their safe place? will they see us when we pass? will they honor us with acknowledgment? or turn away, again? you and me, we are the weary travelers i suppose. walk the earth to heaven knows.

thats how we are, thats just how life goes
no need to resist

cease and be still now!

the cold earth? the clumps? no matter anymore
not for long
these weak forces

my blood toward yours

Sunday, 31 October 2010

what you do and what you dont, love your life and sadness wont (touch you)


Sadness! oh god...
you know seems im running away -- almost every single day now
but i got trax on you now
i see your gravitation
                  your force
can see you coming closer
                back into my circles
cant face you
so here atleast i can try to...
address you (wow, a coward!)
try to
get honest and face what im doing? what the fuck?
not always healthy
not always bad luck
following those
whose real? whats true? aww DOLORES!
you gotta leave me alone!
you deaf? me monotone
please damn near hear me?
please, drop a tear, so i know im not alone

no, i know you, how you work
 topple me right over
 capsize me. get mean!
aka drowning!

no, unh-ah,
 im real - im eyes
i realize
this is not in the cards
 not now (forgive me)
youre not welcome
not in this mind body spirit soul....
ecosystem of self? too fragile i feel
i feel it, i know it, the feeling too strong.
just listen and hear me, respect me then leave me!
sadness, please goddess!  please sadness!
move on

someone else
may they tolerate
or up from zero
teardrop to soft rain
to gale force
hurricane you are!

so i ask, dear goddess! what to do?
 i been ducking and dodging her, her black eyes follow me and want me to feel that pain i remember when not able to forget. the defenses? i been trying them! trying to protect!
my volatile line it up in the firing range and take her out? its missing. in absentia.
im losing it (what i have not lost!)
take her out before she takes my ass out. survival time...i know it

shes hanging over me heavy deep,
 i worry so much im losing sleep.

sadness is slow-like,
he fucks in his denim
cause he was so slow
to unbutton the fly?
because hes too busy
doing nothing but cry?

sadness i laugh at,
cause sadness just fears that
the laughter and loving
of the woman he wants...

he can have!

i just laugh at his thinking
because hes so sad
you laugh when the sadness
is so strong and tangible
like laughing
at funerals
or laughing
when diagnosed

with something unwanted
dreaded and terrible

the diss of your ease
uncomfortable fertile

we laugh at the doctors
whose faces like newsreels
american i mean
the kind loved by sadness
cbs and foxnews
ceo fear and sadfests

his handkerchiefs
are widely known
to be visited upon
across the cable dial
sadness like walmart
eats the little ones
right up

 single file!

eats the whole country
through lightboxes flat
and curries your curry
with salty teardrops in pots

he even merged with god
(as some people call it)
creating rain when they do bad
(or locusts when real bad)
sadness comes over
the ones holding bibles
i feel for them not
cause they chose the revival

King James, this is it!
in between the light boxes
they exclaim with some knowing
that escapes them like foxes

but mind over matter
their god brings them joy
colors their lenses
with pink label foie
gras that they eat
when they meet in old fashion
round tables where Judas
was once held
for fashion

 i choose eastern
old books for my brain wash
cause old testament
namesakes they...
got me so lost

like whose son of uncle
met aunts daughters baby
and created some guy
who parted seas
with the strength of two forties
(old english makes eighty)
ounces of power
to part the red seas
(or read that part there)
or give the old testament
a refresher
dename the named
unify the dichotomy!

and the nameless run over

many whom were she
cause she was not equal
to man, in their lessons

i was taught to suck on his toes
in these sessions...

after the foot got washed
you suck them dry,
girls, and then birth
another one, (a man lets hope)
not the weaker of the sexes
but the dopest of the dope

now get steamrolled in 2000
by some puritan's lexus
he bought with your money
your parents gave him to care for you
even though his caring
feels like being under...

his shoe

the sole the easterners know
is dirty and dry
best keep it out of my face!
(if you wanna survive)
cause the buddha loves the women
they taught him kama sutra

he is grateful

he drops you in the pantheon
dropping you like knowledge
the goddess welcome anthem
not underground
nor lost
in third person male.
its natural
to say he him
before and after your

for women
are like W
followed by an omen
to our fancy men
we must make them beholden
not real aggro
but passive
aggressive is the way
no birkas to wear
just sexy lingerie

and teach them to shake it
like milk shakes in yards
to all of your friends
playing poke her --you know --


and talking about her
like shes on the grill
serve her with butter
then cream...
then chill
in bed beside her
as she sucks your toes
and if she wont do that, well
'she sucks!'
case closed!

swear on the bible
this mis-nomer
passed to progeny
makes us lamer,
our culture,
its simply misogyney

so watch out for smart girls!
they arent sexy
watch out for arabs
cause they are too obvious
making women
how we learned
they all ought to be --
tied in a bow
and fucked behind
a tree

its natural
we love it
the thong rides her ass
we tap it like maple
served in flutes
with class

the passive aggressive
second class citizenship
they bestow
makes me load the gun gently
touch it
to his

the big one
the target
the big toe ego
the big one
i sucked it
you suck now
go blow!
or join us
the women
you salivate your rivers for!

join us and watch us
cut out all indian givers!
another misnomer
the givers who take
the hypocrisy sucks up
like the tail of a snake

following the followers
down a loveless path
crank up our country radio
and jump in the bath

the goddess provides
bathe and reside
right here where fresh pussy
is yours !
here to ride!

cause we give it all
to the men who drop everything
religion and ego and all
that blows out sunshine
to see the world truly
in gray tones of glasses
(the women conveyed,
from macys with plastic.)

your credit is good
when you paid it due
become a real man
and bend down.
suck our toeringed
then rise up stronger
stronger than imagined
cause goddess loves a man
who gives up all...

to follow passion

in mouth of reality
a tunnel
of love likeness
cause we all hate to admit
that those we love
not always like

set you free
and gets you her
or is the marketing here
too much
truth be told?

it also sucks
because you will do
what you do irregardless
and all that i just wrote
is less
and less
like when i talk of giving
my ass to your taproot
selling my sex
like dominatrix
licking boot?
like i swallowed
the poison
just like you did?

can you blame me?
im sexual
i want this
to be what you see
which is why i take time
in front of the mirror
making faces
like divine

not no real
not this truth talk!
post feminist
devilish intellectual
manna from heaven
ruining the game!
like cash for clunkers
ruined escalades
suv gas sucking
head for the bunkers
fight for more oil
for no apparent reason
(call them old fashioned
cause birkas are in season)

looking outward not in
to the american systemic
girls hold it tight
so the game can go on --
act like integrity
is blocking his mental
from flossing your thong

see i have to admit
im systemic
american all over me
like wet tshirt...

yields cash
i want to sink into --
the sugardaddyscenario
live for getting tanner
and loving

i wont sugar coat it
to feed my own ego,
stop talking about yours
oh my gosh -- im fainting! hold me!
theres a mouse on the stairs
and open that door
and buy me a cosmo
ill read you from magz
that get your hard
hard on
and ill know i must
take you
to be promised
a princess

your thing?
how colossal!
will it cure
my talkcereal
of labels and girls
im jealous of all day?
(pinching myself
i must lose more weight)

what an embarrasment
carried over the threshold
he falls like the soldier
in O Stones 'Platoon'

cant take her weight, captain
shes taking on water
call the ambulance
call two!
(i slipped a disc
as i caught her)

a noble man trying
to trick up his princess
who wants it like this
and sucks in recess

like arab women too
and antarctican animals
the man is the hunter
and shes just delicious

but self-consciously so
is the human animal add-on
like some turn of the table
but really some fad on

the hypocrisy eclectic
and oh so electric!
so now i bend over
and take you inside

tell me who i am
and where i reside

miss mr i may i
or mother what to do?
do i step aside and let him
and act like i have no clue?

mother will give you the
advice that you need
be a well mannered young lady
and give him!
he needs!
i proudly present
my daughter in silk
easier to disrobe her
(she does not know
i worked the angle
removing her buttons
at most pressing places)
to assuage the ego
of my son in law she faces
i want her to know
you from deep within
(so i can live through it
and feel my own skin)

my daughter shes priceless!
she takes my advice!
when i say bend over
she wont think twice

shes been taught the asanas
of bikram yoga
she sweats in her underclothes
so to delight you
to stretch her
like laffy, the taffy
(she does not know
how i coached her)
to bend herself around you
pretty and thin and
to be taken
by your manhood

to turn her eyes...
in deep concentration
as she sees now her place
is to best be sensation
al you get busy
and train her some more
i want this one daughter
to turn out a whore!

(cause my bad side was repressed
when i was a girl
i raised her from scratch
shes like me then, a pearl)

and vicariously
now (she claps),
without admonition
i selflessly proclaim
her virginity --
in your

so flatten her belly
and wax that ass!
let her be the oven
play your games
on her grass!
invite your friends over
(hell use the webcams
so mom and dad
can look proudly
over your shoulder
at our little girl)

she will learn a lesson
and stop with her
tomboy routine and surrender
(or fight first to stop
your breath taking
into her mouth)

As it be, as it should!
and then she will sweat
her pure driven water
and i will command
'go for it!'

fuck my daughter!
and she will squeal
feeling betrayal
and i will smile
and watch you fuck
her--right at the table
with all family around
so she knows her place
missionary style
while we all say grace

and then come the clothes
as her attitude adjusts
and she gets on all fours
delivered in trust

in trusses
or corsets
make her a milkmaid
come on now!
get clever!

help her enjoy
her new calling
or we will put her on the streets
if you start to stalling
or answering her prayers
to let her be free
and become what she wanted
a keeper of bees??

no daughter of mine
will take away my passion
by wearing a suit
of metal?
 wheres the fashion?

no tomboy will be
in my family tree!
mini skirts will do
hell-  charge a fee!

to put it in stone
this mothers secret desire
(this repressed puritan woman
who once sang with choir
and gave birth to the child
the one youve been given)
to unleash her wild side
and it will be written;
like mother like daughter
cathartically sexual:

opening legs
both horizontal
and vertical
to cover all bases
and be for all men
lefty? no problem
squeeze her tits
to no end

for they wont discriminate
at which hand you use
the other runs deep up
her little miss oven boo!

when she comes running to mama
to tell me her stories
about how you raped her and lent
her to friends
i will say '
honey, on this we depend,
your tricking
your treat
and princesses feet
must be for the family!'

the dutiful bound
we are aware
how he treats you
we think it is sound

we want you fresh fucked
like you are now, wet cheeked

crying because you miss
feeling him embracing you whole
and making you give up
your body and soul
to the moans that we hear
through the walls so thin
your father is rooting
and coming again
after years of a drought
your poor mother has suffered
i brought you in this world
(and yes it gets tougher)

your grown now and lean
and for you he fiends
you brighten us all
when you bend over--
so clean!

fresh and tan princess
be our star!
smoke his well smoke his well smoke his --cigar!

and stop worrying now
your pretty little head
your place is decided
in thongs in the bed
dont make us cuff you
and start bondage games
youre not ready yet
(though that is in sight)
just like his cock loaded
so full at you aimed,
smile and take it
and clean the windowpanes!
so we can all see
and be proud of you now
showing your tits
and moaning
oh how!


sadness he flaunts his miserable condition
hes petty and immature
his science is fiction
the labcoats they ponder
a pharmaceutical response
to the efforts of sadness
to burn us like friction.

sadness once had me,
he took me to dinner
he fed me champagne
he looked like a winner

i raised up naively
like that boy, son of the champ
in that movie about boxing
and the boy son of champ

his light eyes so shining
to watch his hero dad
beat men to the canvas
the boy smile- clad

and sadness clandestine
took over the tape
the film switched so quickly
like tarantinos french cinema lady
conspiring against evil
the way we must
fight sadness

switch our own tape
and create sunshine madness
each day that we wake
the opportunity arises
to get past our sadness
with happy madness disguises

shoot rays of sunshine
out of our palm (pilots)
if its not been reviven
our joy
we revive this

or should i say arisen
like the sun every day
we make our own choices
and lie in the hay
or the muck or our own mindbend
when sadness is feared
it tears at our liver
and heart
been speared.

so make todays sadness
tommorrows yesterday
ya know
stick with the goddess
and let your aura

Katya is here
to lighten your spleen
my crazy poems
are here for you to lean

ill bake you a cake
wont taste very good
but sadness wont happen
caused i burned him for good
he may strike me down
tommorrow with his muscles
but only if i let him
to fake out
a tussle

because all the battles
he might think he won
are lost in the everlasting
i feel in the sun

of you my friend who cares
enough to put down your hotdog
to key up this microlog
like an internet dog
hunting for this Kat
because im worth the hunt
ill blow sunshine up your asses
and ladies up your cunt
see now thats not polite
and could fill one with sadness
if they thought about my mouth
all awash with soap and gagness
and that i would need
to be
so crass and disgusting
must make the virgins frown
from the bleach esophageal kings
they worship at home
taking all abuse
when they pass soda gas
and the king
lent an ear
then thrashed out
'no class!'
so they douched and they douched
all awhile smiling
but sadness i see him
hes not even hiding

because to be real
you gotta be worn out
to be real
you gotta get the realwords
even if they sound crass
like Katyas vernacular
coming around the corner
of the dogchase

the shadow i wont run from
just the doggy dogs that i know
and shoot my rays of sunlight
up to the flow of Tao
the goddess she is with me
i feel her coming over
i will open up my chakra
and let the lover love her
within me to without
part of my aura
no doubt

sadness just a memory
over which i scream
and shout!
my life
my life
my life!
in the


Tuesday, 26 October 2010

7am and the city picks up


The colombian brews up in all the moms. all the pops. all the scragey wooden boxes with names carved and burnt in the pantries. dried blood years old stains the wood darker than darkness. the damn kids who work these floors, button the old cash reggie buttons, deal with constant cobwebs cause its a sin to kill spiders here. ask the old man if you got questions. (you dont wanna ask the old man nothing!) 

The colombian drips its black molasses over yellow white teeths of the mashing local masses. every fuckin morning, y'all! 5am scrubbin the floors for 6am skillets firin for 630am stand tall for the regular steppin into the hall. between old sacks of basic shit and new ones. potatoes, flour, sugar, whatever the fuck! by the basics. buy american. fit in if ya can. dont and deserve what you got comin'. (maybe a big mouth of colloquial jam). 

Ya. its cruel out there. its real though, its really real. guess what? you gotta deal! we got clocks run outta time...hands groping for the light, time wont stop motherfucking moving. the toxins ull purify her, the river of the street. 

Was hard to even downtempo out of the colloquial expressed here and there and afore. hard to shut the door on it. the artist rendition was poor, sadly drawn out, she was bad at drawin' it. Maybe it was the fifth bombay, no more tonic. just gonna water her down, said the poorly conceived logic of this dirty down home skinny ripped jean locally loved chick. drunk and every guy became a prick. drunk but not yet sick. get ready she'll rip your heart out only to take a generous lick of your ticker, get the old bitch to quicker tick. that cool kinda hip synonymous with sick! Thats madre mad maddy. know her name, laddy. know her name if you know anythin at all!

 On the streets the homeless, friendless of course the gps locates maddy on a skid row corner at high noon working chore in glass cylinder. mad addicted sometimes! episodic! got shown up, really most of the days, all of the nights, mad madre she believed she was showing up, we believed, for someone to believe in, yes it was her. she inspired faith. goddess touched. maybe the eighth.

Well she saw us through lines endless before city agency doors. This citys dropouts would fill floors and floors. Then the lines saw mad maddy...this time shown up by metrosexual bluetooth blackberry boygirls blown up. Yup. Sorry to say, they took her stained glass away. Poor maddy, sad saddy. But she dont care, they can just stare, her world continues to spin, spin spun, the tales, the fun, anything we had not done she had us do, we had it done.

If only we had her still,  #8 child of light we say, cause if only would save lives. Pick up the streets, its a washout! Madre back in our lives, in our faces. Poverty of spirit, she erases. There by the federal building so many cops out in force, passive in their aggression, of course. Within seconds bust some dealer long overdue on the corner where the Hondurans claim territory. The Hondurans (that's another story). 

Yet all is not so clean, not so neat. Be afraid. Mothers flick cc's. Houses raided, feel the heat. Children learn street science early, sisters they wept -- they weep! Fathers look real strong or tried during shoots, for local papers. Later tied off and overdid it and died off. Uncut hit the street again like it does, like it did, like it always will, once in a while. 

Some just got along but truly hated, felt hate incoming, vented hate outgoing. Others no showed or showed and were hated. Doors were gated, communities walled off. Still others loved madly behind these walls. Madre herself got back there and fell in love with a junkie, sadly, became half-mad of her original madness, got numbed small by suffering and sadness. Only for a while, dont worry. Madre maddy is radical, shes fucking savvy. She knows how to dodge a bullet, a boyfriend fronting steel rims before weak game. Ill be the one rolling out on steel, maddy assured herself. Like bigger-than-life madre by little children, painting half their nails while they slept, they would sincerely miss the kind of presence and house she kept. He would make bitch his mantra. No telling how many times. Predictable, mundane, hiding behind the pain. 

Collect all the tears that you can, if you will. Please. So to offer toward healing of hearts. We need them! Remember all this shit happens for a reason, whether painful insane. We cannot measure it by days necessarily, but if we work together there may still be a chance. Maybe the sun made it possible?  while the wind blew right by. while the tide got influenced. Got forced.

You stood by my side. By choice, not by force. Colombian brewed all night. By itself i think? We have locked and loaded the coffee grind so long it has come into its own natural rhythm, brews itself and a goddamn good cup at that! Working overtime all night, maybe could use the human touch again. Observe. Experience the texture -- more like molasses or jellyfish extension to half your energy, sapped and unaware, might find yourself sitting half of every day, watching mindless TV foreplay on black grounds of roasted earth. 

Whole is not too much, rounded out, no doubt. Maddy madre reappears, realigns us from our fears. Fast! she races to one tree (up on hill). If you dont blink twice, you might see her through the window sill. What a goddamn gorgeous pole dancer, drop dead hot for romance. Culturally felt, honored, unified melt. Down her strong soft thighs a true natural tone she set so clear so dear so fresh young thrill! never marked for the kill. Too swift, mad maddy. savor (the flavor of murder). take a picture. you cannot capture her all of her. you must anyway, with your trademark call out. Hold it now, hold still, thatta girl... 

 To you we are devoted. 7am in the city.


Monday, 25 October 2010

who do i think i am? (an exercise)

I am an empath. I am a mystic. I am Aquarian. I am stubborn. I am blunt. I am courageous.
I am g-fluid. I see most concepts on a continuum. I suffer from abandonment. I suffer from
attachment, enmeshment. I am a caretaker. I easily lose myself. I am a writer. I am a loner.
I am a bitch. I am a drama queen. I can be selfless. I can be selfish. I strive for the middle
path. I am Taoist. I face my shadow. I become fearful under stress. I become loyal when
I live from my heart. I am intellectual. My head is the most dangerous place for me to live.
I love all my friends to the extent that they are lovable. I dislike & scrutinize any judgments.
I am often misunderstood. I am not afraid to challenge your judgment of me, nor to shed
you from my life if you cannot relieve yourself of heavy judgment of me. Expect me not to
meet your expectations of me. I am a rebel. I strive for flexibility, and I will surprise you.
 I am a good listener. I am spiritual. I love life. I am not afraid to die. The soul never dies!
I will love you if you let me. I will be honest to the best of my ability. I will be curious and
expect the unexpected. I am prone to depression and anxiety. I am never a victim. I make
mistakes, and learn best by doing. I have degrees in literature, psychology and street science.
I will meet you where you are. I manifest right here right now. I find wholeness and fullness
by my presence in the very moment. I need my own private Idaho. Catharsis and alchemy
strengthen my spirit. Extremities can kill me, if i reside there too long. I can become hurtful
toward self and others. I can become lost. I have many many times been lost and suffered
out on some edge. Yet comfort & luxury put me to sleep. Hibernation. I live through carrying
out my purpose, which remains half unknown.

The mystery is in becoming...change is inevitable...fortune has favored me and so i am
grateful...when i work i work best when
allowed freedom to manifest.... i work hard and selflessly. those who know me know
of my compassion & loyalty, yet also of my unpredictability. I am terminally unique. Just
try and pin me down! I may be 2 steps ahead, existing in new paradigm. Maybe self-centered,
 hypersensitive, subtle sense of energy, transpersonal, blunt to the point of cruelty,
eloquent or slippery like a chameleon, or simple, simply complicated! you will find me
in the light. love and light to you. i offer white light of protection, as i have been so often
protected by many goddesses. i give what i have been given, for when i try and hold on
to anything too tight, i fall away from the light. self-sabotage burns my skin. i am full
and smiling, though i appear thin. see me and i will see you. here in the light.

Sunday, 24 October 2010

coffee with the one & only cousin of death

I met with her , the cousin of death, for 5 days and nights.

photo by Katya 2010

and believe me. that was enough. you may not believe i am a writer (anymore)  by how i now write. believe me. its colloquial. contextual. individual. personal. all that you ever dreamed it might be if you could find your way into anothers heart. mind. spirit. soul. sounds juicy, doesn't it? well it might be. or i might just be raw and half-dead. having just had coffee. had tea. had my intersection with the cousin of death. sorry if it sound cold. more to be revealed... give me time. please. im exhausted. weary. travelled far. hardly made it. only the tears dripping down the window could stir me. could wake me. could shake me. remind me. well. the tears and the ten week old little sisters running circles round my bed. round my room. round my head. vrrooommmm!!
photo by katya 2010

and thanks. im glad you waited. hallow's eve? its my favorite night. 
we have survived! we are survivors. if that's the most i can say  to make it ok,
well then -- alright.

Monday, 18 October 2010

need u by my side...fragment I

 i was bad off....they thought i wasn't, but i was aware of it....i thought a long time about doing somethin' about it....then i tried ....i had to reruns of the Outsiders....locate patience in my stressed, tired self....sit silently on my knees in front of the virgin mary and the Buddha on the sacred space in one corner of the living room... until i could feel life wasnt so hard....until i figured things out...until circumstance figured me out, ya, i guess sometimes the tide took me strong. but not without a fight.

 i had my r'aison d'etre...full presence through breath, posture, mantra, observation, non-judgment, affirmation.... YES.... various choices at any given moment... and no moment received without moment assumed, no moment a given. every moment i was breathing, every moment i was living.

i found myself often up against some damn ice cold resource department. the freezer.  i was bad off like i said. they demanded rigorous protocol....i could not keep from naturally drawing outside the lines...fucking the receptionist...fucking the receptionists boyfriend... soon i stopped working under such conditions... where others stumbled over words at water fountains in the early nineties air con cubicle societies...i did not want others to feel scared where they worked.

then i got a little lost. Confused in my mind...for days...and my aforementioned working relationship formally ended with a letter informing me of my 'termination'. this was a difficult word to receive. i cried alot. a lot. I cried so much that day. i was lost, ya. lost! 

the feeling became so emotional high tide, delicious after the confines of pseudo walls, plants and personas. my freedom i held dear,  my presence -- my manifold experiences as they presented themselves...this was nothing terminal, no --this was my commencement! i was bad off, yeah, but not like they said, not for their reasons. I was bad off to be there, in concentric circles. In protocol, demanded, for nebulous reasons. The black sheep is known wide, to weather all seasons. 

No more feelings of anxiety & worry & how to be, wu-wei. Feelings of gratitude towards life rolled me in waves --arose in the new space created. Then subsided. Feelings! May you continue on! The streets they are rough... yet look so polished,  end to end. Cold and unfeeling, these streets can be. For some children these sidewalks are warm enough for colored chalk and hopscotch. Jumping over jump ropes and empty bottles of scotch. For some these streets are home. The same city streets after dark they just change. Men walk with knives tied to ankles or wrists. Daylight brings women with shopping lists. Those who do know these streets know to walk slow, chin up. Check out the fresh tags. Stay out of reds and blues. Dress in black and white. Midtone grey. True to you. Let your eyes scan.  Hey, Here comes the dope man! Turn away, turn away, or just stay on course and walk forward. meet them all with fresh eyes. May truth be your mainstay; may compassion be your courage.

SOMA district. san francisco. 7am.

Sunday, 10 October 2010

october. a sunday morning

Black leather
square heel
witch pumps
touch down

twenty ten. october
sunday morning

i got him
got us

he got up
he gets me
its simple

i got her
i thought so
i think so...
i wonder

held her 
heard her
 stayed close
with her

she got me
i thought so
she thinks so
she says so

 took me
held me
stayed rightby me

its hard
2 really

its hard when
we dont know

harder still
when we dont know
we dont know

to feel
ones own heart beating
may be
ones only comfort
these days

 i found
tabby marked
kitten sisters

4 sale
street corner

got lucky
for sure
i sure did!

watch them
wrestle out
all 8 weeks
of them

got style
fleur de lis
nail file

streaming radio
breaking news

inside us
you & me
i see where
we cross
where we stream...

i see a child
HD video
still a blur

broken waves
strewn across
sand bars...

long forgotten
lost dreams

hey girl
hey guy
(u do know who u are)

do you wonder?
or wonder why?

the difference
is remarkable.
like a laugh is
to a cry

no worries
give them all a big big kiss!

in a
barely touched lips
really meaningful

 love U today
best i can
and pray
 you love you

if only
you may

that aint all.


Thursday, 23 September 2010

adrienne and may the faded

and may i ...

have to
be so







my movements





- 0 +
to get it!
hold it!


hold it
hold it now!

and then...



hit it!
'impalace' 09-10  kwm author / kkila edit

//// low \
all low
hall -/-/-/----


miss inge
in gen
x rated


fated --




Monday, 13 September 2010

peacock parallel. II of II

  • Some held on to the heart against the tide of opportunists comin in waves, imploring, fronting weak currency, and invitations to postmodern raves... 
  • If you’re green, they offer you TLC, measure your accounts wide and generous to match your pre-disposition. and you become you-with-a-twist, like you in the hottest djs androgynous demolition mix.
  • you might like your new self, well I’m sure. (a good representation of your gendereckless world, of the highest moral irreverence and lowest on the brainwash standardized academic scale).  And rather than dumb you down, you got street wise, anyone says otherwise is a clown.

are there pharmaceuticals in your purse? what? for your current need...or your malingering desire. you have your ready line?  ativan for emergency purposes, stress of flat tires on the side of highway, broken down, when the anxiety hits you like a live wire. they suspect you now sing bare and tone, in the klonopin choir.
years and years of tales of  those who sanctioned such impurities, traded off for karmic insecurity.  late night throw-downs at quarterly earning heights, forcing our moms and pops to open shops for genx non-events.  taste testing of researched synergies of  astral planes. backstage passes for old ladies who run the indoor mood stabilization track. 

Lamictal-ly immersed, Valproic proclivity, then some pill co. announced the end of confidentiality. As a celebration, of course, freedom from your secrets. The parties endless, the movie screens raped, the ad campaign put out, all of this was taped.

Models skirts go up,  all the boys shout. Eyes  narrow. Under the ampsalt rush of 30ccs gone straight to the marrow. wannabe Mia Farrow. she saw them inject her ex-husband. she saw his response. she saw the new light in his eyes. just before she would no longer know him. of a thousand different ways they would interact... not once could she know him.
everyone needs a little help when rivers of same source break the parallel in-aqua-cess-ence in the pool, in the mix. Shadows embracing in the light, sent back to the dark to fade out to darkness and move unseen in untold darkness of controlled space night. no light. ..a quiet place... Toward the steady length of shadow, most refuse to look! Those spun into vertigo, spun away, invertigone! The black lights set upon. The white flags demarquing orgies canvassed the fertile land near dawn.

Below the pleasant scenery lay the unseen and even trampled on the ground. That was not okay. So it was pressed until it seemed hidden. Still it remained, unseen. This was okay somehow.

But it all started so harmlessly, the evening! out to dine merger, fine starched shirts, table red wine, Italian restaurants: joie de vivre! every cut of bone yard on the menu: eye of rib, filet for broiler. an establishment of potent sociopathy pervading dark halls, and smiles alike left plastered on the walls. 
  • Katya 2010

  • Future leaders of the world, hear this: bloodshed is no foreign element to those who have it all!

  • eastern edge of western world, may she be so very sharp yet non-violent. meet the west in a flash! submit? -- NOT AT ALL.
    any less would be cowards fare, stress, paranoia, the fall of truth. pulling of teeth. pulling of hair. why suffer here? just be aware. they want you to get dirty, down on your knees, so to support their understanding of the abject poverty of your ideas, your philosophies, your creed, they look upon with contempt. they reach for something they believe lies above them. like sky worshippers posed out! like skinny models situated in hipsters! you are the shredded silks and rayon they pick like berries. try you on.  Okay you may send in the children. Now go. Go stare at them meditatively. 

  • Okay okay. Some may slumber in good thoughts of their own honorable installments. Do not forget you must be sharp! crush them (gabapentin) and get neurons back on pathways . Sir? Ma’am? as the evening progresses, why not? stare back at their focused a-style stares. seek invitation to penthouse superior lairs. enjoy yourselves. pharmaceutically. without cares.

    Liquid cooled chairs. political minds refined to mastery. narcissistic-friendly egos. hand jobs for logos. Printed all over the ass of their vestments.
    Assuage the suede macrophage, esophageal bellowed cause of contented singularities -- quelle dommage! 

    Can it get more confusing? Add astrological anomalies to your day. Triple Taurus 3-play. Will wrongdoing become self-evident? Will you get up and do all the doing? they sit contented, its the law. while you work hard and get paid and settle vices and poison self, with whatevers below ascent to top shelf. The rules only they can bend. They  are not actual: just present to you as friends.

    Perched on skyscraper bars, buying rounds alternately and with a quick tempo... mindful in the moment to decease some person, place, or unmedicated idea. Before being called upon to surrender keys to their model year foreign luxe cars, they weigh their kilos, smoke their cigars.
    The ones who tell you they will sell your wares? do you fall into line? fall into the easy rhythm,  pull out their chairs?  the laughter-- is it to be mistaken for the source of 
    shed so many tears? their hot dry airs exhaust and exhaust.  it wears.  pret-a-porter in that apathetic kind of who cares kind of you gotta be kidding sorta way.
    For conscious one and all to ignore such a sight was not possible. the language that came forth between the lines of the foreheads peripheral? always of a demanding nature toward a hopeless situation. yet hidden under shock of hair, the shock that filled the air. questions of conduct. and the paperwork that backed it. legal parameters sorted, stapled and faxed it.

    Familiar. with contempt. they came out of the boardroom with erections and pro phalactics. not to mention shady tactics. they would wait to rise on gasses internal, to covet passes to VIP eternal.

    The peacocks! the Tit-E fuckers! On all 2s to subjugate those on all 4s! Behold them in grasp young ankles in between world tours!
    We almost expected lobotomy to answer to the ongoing global mental health crisis of collective unconscious non-economy. All solution was subject to dilution with consequential pollution to cloud any vision. Less and less clear to the most compassionate of providers, whatever any kind of thoughtful conclusion.  no one could see the forest, no one could see the trees. Under heavy bank of pharmaceutical cloud- E. The peacocks put their colors on the line - ya -- strip tease. just the knife going in deeper, it seemed. all reasonable careful internationally branded plans shredded. fin.

    or does it ever end? forgetful, must we begin again? try harder? go farther. excavate all around the central lobe. Cavity produced by the TV...

    Props to you who missed the parade deliberately ... you who knew better how to cope ... (oxytocin, the last of the wild, the dope) you who stayed in bed and got laid.

    Monday, 6 September 2010

    stop throwing branded claymation at generic nation

    think before you throw this.  please. think until your emotions  rest, come to peace. the foundation will not be lost, the cause will still hold true. do not let that tick of time push push push you to some unsatisfactory way of doing. reaction too hot. requires some recalibrating, some cooling. some vacant nature grown through asphalt urban lot...

    turning blue now, the way we do now. shadows maybe, evening maybe fall. the pine trees stand so tall, so very tall. and we sway like this, side to side, side and back, our capillary needles, little felt at the micro essential level, waving just waving yes-- waving like any head of any state whose driven, woven up and down by the town the city  embraces this your arcade, your motor arcade, your esplenada ticker tape remoulade.

    southern shore color pink. pale pink with a neon craving. your feel you feeling the comfort of the cushion of the cloud softened sky and milk softened bourbon and faces softening and melting like ice cream in the heat of the lone star in the sky kind of intimate kind of relating kind of day kind of way, down yes down your special silk socks curbed with velvet and heeled out with suede so fine could walk you on the moon, they say, could walk you on the moon, bay bay.

    turning yellow now like sunshine the coin and the dime silver coat drip off the copper. and she throws the clothes all around your face before you like to get your attention, snaps the linens torn off the cord in the yard you stretched in a gesture of non-violence.  familys longjohns dryin in the yellow sundrip, kissed by the sun, the solar lip trip - you gonna get when she next stages the biblical reading over your head and over the land, oh men. man. woman. sundress and sundries. yellow gold hues deep as the living gray yellows of tidal pool sucking sand. let her leave you and join the band, go far on tour. read her love notes and splash through her pretty pictures as you roll around half-in-love with your hardwood floor.

    turning red. turning pink. turning pale yellow like some late fifties pontiac sold off to Cuba, buried in the ground with harleys and then unearthed and found, naturally preserved treasures of the earth, vive la difference. vive la net worth. when cuba libre gets diluted, thats when all goes to hell, you know....

    when cuba libre gets diluted
    when american dollar became something worth more than your local currency
    when velvet underground became pop rox
    when someone with a passionate voice is told to kick rocks
    when we let go of our dreams, it seems
    when the fear smacks us like million candle power light beams
    when the plastic mould meets old steel mill, oversold
    when appalachia meets media whore
    and takes her on,  on tour. takes her cause he can...

    when the red carpet takes on the other colors
    the colors of yours and mine
    cause you are ready to go
    and you told me so
    its been a half hour
    and you thought i should know

    i guess now i know
    now i know
    now ....
    <>   -Katya 2010


    Monday, 30 August 2010

    peacock parallel...I of II parts

    Quiet was the week
    Had to stop my tongue,
    had to

    rollaway my cheek...

    Ascend up the steep side
    of Mute peak

     - katya

    Of atomical analysis
    in empirical wstern  laboratories
    of the paradigm challenged

    thyroid failures (allostases)
    cancer treatments via baking soda
    ye-o dilutions via the same
    scientifically established
    and material in legal cases...

    therefore the common people
    could now be swabbed
    handled with spray on gloves
    vacuum packed
    and filed in the common peoples

    archived, licked, smacked,
    shot into bloodstreams IV
    III  II  I
     FEELING shift
                 MOOD SHIFT
    psychological shift
    biological shift
    spiritual shift
    soul shift
       ENVIRONMENTAL discrepancies
    Occupational plane symptomatic of
    marked lapses...

    unemployment rose with
    disability claims
    requiring new protocols of
    tightening of credit
    and the commoners
    required public defenders
    just to secure SSI
    (the leaking well of tax funds)

    The top crust of class hierarchy
    (blue bloods and new bloods)
    Shot into space on high fructose corn syrup anti-gravity  thrusters
    leaving snail trail sugars
    for everglade ecosystems...

    to see crop blown up on into manic sunset
    the original landowners and farmers in a squeeze
    vulnerable to corporate or mormon real estate acquisitions
    at deep discount wholesale auctions
    conducted by the police
    to offset their cost of living
    (without any associated breakouts of guilt)

    THen came the
    ravaging of circular spirals into the systems
    onto the internet news and social media sites
    all across the planet in diverse languages
     entire hierarchies of temperate zone bugs
    so out of their minds in the spiral maze
    psychotic bugs
    ladybugs, cucarachas, lightning bugs, potatobugs, rose bugs
    all gone psychotic


    The movement of debugging had just to evolve
    out of the melting polar glacier
    which was bugging...
     became a

    movement of bugging
    up to the highest echelons, government sanctions
    cia/fbi wiretaps from penthouse suites
    to dopespots on streets

    In this society plane upon which they nested
    most came to be swept out from under the rug

    once kept
    now given,
    faded oriental patterns where
    ancestral symbols B living
    into infinity
    for all anybody knew
    (not empirically true)
    most likely true

    Thought processes followed the mishap
    psychiatrists benefited
    tightened screwed wrapped around insurance collars
    stuffed at red lobsters
    ddhouse - katya  c2010
    stuffed like lobsters
    unlimited raw bar tab thrown in
    appeal to the human primal appetite , full up and satiate,
    overbloated the check, they pleaded until he wrote it!
    across from some corporate pharmaceutical associate smiling
    any integrity deprioritized
    taken no floor, holding no stand
    boundaries up in smoke tonight
    cubans with dominican seed we for dessert.

    days later
    pushing new generation neurotransmitter supplements
    as antidepressants with disclaimer --
    'Only effective inconjunction with therapy'
    and  'only refillable via psychiatrist office visit'

    referrals to specialists never hurt
    and then a ten minute assessment of symptology...
    often leading to titration of current medication
    or buttressed with symptom relieving prescriptions
    all in the name of the comfort of the patient.

    little did they know the karmic implication, unless the provider
    was selfless and true advocate for patients... actions and choices
    neurotransmitted up and out and through the crown chakras for
    universal reception and response line sent by telegram
    down to the kinds of negative feelingstates
    that might push back
    inspiring of activism on many fronts
    immersed into cultural distrust of psychiatry
    and thus the appropriate evolution
    of westerners taking walks
    through chinatown
    for alternative cost-effective herbal
    and chinese medicinal treatments
    often direct from the source
    that is nature.

    Saturday, 28 August 2010

    alchemicals distance themselves from chemicals at the dance

    i can say it now
              tell it like it was...for it is
                                                         as it was
      undying still
    all inside unlocking memories
    half with chills thrown up
                                                 in the air
      some despair
    coming down in daggered sleet to soft snow.

    her edges fit comfortably,
    the night terrors --      i held her through.

    i raised my head no longer burdened,
    trusted my sentient self to her care. ..

    her whole being was

    light and most giving
    . she held me through some waves
                                                               some winds
    time past
               passed grieving


    ashes of my baby girl
    in cedar safely laid to rest...

    like the sacred ash tree
    in visuals
    in sleep

    our embrace.
    our tears...

    all the rest
    tommorrow i will turn the tables
                 tomorrow i
                            i release the tourniquet of your stressedness

    we can eat shrimp
                                    and ice cream?

    back to that place we adore.
                                         legs tangled up...
                 deep kissing


            stood, the trust.
    stand by me
                      by you
    Katya 2010
                            stand I.

    and those times i turn
    --over over over over over--
    in your arms

    and just cry

    Tuesday, 17 August 2010

    aperitif, senorita?

    how I may help you begin your day before the sun has risen and fifty seven stories up in a five star hotel on an island caribbean or off the black sea salt air the cossacks once inhaled in knowing they were more than meagre peasants. may i carry you the glass cylindrical bowl from the chiller to your poolside indoor outdoor mist of morning, place it gently down whereby i pause a moment for you to admire the manicure of indian lavender you chose one week earlier one thousand three hundred or so miles away on the opposite side of the tropic of cancer?
    Photograph by Katya, 08/10
    where we cut through the tourists as the longboats cut through the channels outside peking on our last visit to what you called the 'outskirts of hong kong' and had me laughing in my mini so that i was struggling just to keep balance, and thank god and goddess alike for the 2% spandex in the purple band lining the top of my 40s fitzgerald, zelda sayre era fell to the floor anyway by the rapture of you in my presence, in the am early hours of a tuesday posing as a friday with us on the bed soon turned to queen, the grass soon lightened to green, love of you, 2 B with you, to be seen with you, 2 B on scene on point jail broken joint punctured with needle sharp, clean, by geisha spy risen high and american by blonde so to be made fond of pressure and acumen in capitalisms shadowy caged prisms of true light we emanate blue and white, true and truly now, can you hear it? feel it? you know -- out of mind, close to heart, out of sight.

    Monday, 16 August 2010

    Installment # VI

    I can say it now & tell how i remember it... for it strikes this sun,  settles under this moon, with such expansive depth! touches all hearts untouched in a timeless surreal way. they were the ones who looked upon us. they stopped what they were doing, to see. we were not pleading to be found there, no, we wanted only to be alone in the simple complication of our love as she grew then and grows now, and some day shall extend on beyond both of us, like a vine up towards light, cut at source, ascends on into the night. undying still. or so i believe with all the faith in me. see. may not align with what youve been taught, no, but cannot be taught anyway, the feeling we feel!

    Photo by Lorien,  2010

    All inside this feeling. beat down doors, unlocked memories, dug into those hidden crates you thought you could keep secret. the feeling pushed around so hard new feelings arose out of her. half of them with chills thrown up in the air. coming down in daggered sleet to soft snow.

    Her edges fit comfortably up against mine, we surfed the height of waves of emotions looked like walls. the night terrors i held her through. the shades of red my anger bled out on us, she softened toward pink. just by listening. just by caring. just by not backing off of my heat i cast out. my insanity i gave her. the realm of insecure feelings, i cast out of her ground. once the ground proved solid, her eyes wet my face. eyelids butterflied up to the ceiling. i raised my head no longer burdened, when i trusted my sentient self to her care. her whole being was fair. light and most giving. she held me through some waves and winds of time past grieving. the way we knew one another now. wow. all we shared. truly we cared.

    Katya sepiashot 2010
    Such was our intention, to travel realms hardly mentioned. the rose garden tucked away behind the city.  the edge where pacific meets the bay. the window open at dawn gave us the tall dying oak, once we pushed our bed against her wall. eastern light uplifted our mornings, our coffee, our yawning, our stretches out and about and around arms clasped together. the smiles we gave. the sharing of clothes we thrifted. the pushing out past suffered like dust sent spent into sunny california weather.

    Rolling about in sunlight on the hill just up from town. The grand old theatre marqueed for her and I, she and me. trying so effortlessly to set one another free of all the old constraints. sawing away, or what we saw and what we see...sure blindness came over us at times. but she could see for me, that i know. and i could catch her off balance. or race her down the street. down the hidden stairway to find the pictures of Brando and Orpheus, Bette Davis and Done Away -- i mean Faye.

    Talk of climbing trees. When we talked, soon to be. Feeling euphoria & maybe sore in our bodies, most of the time. sharing our secret writings. Listening to what we say, sometimes. More often talking over each other, its okay. So much to share, so much to say. Interruptions all day! push the agendas like wind pushing sails. still we lined them up then took down the rails... who could really stop us? like life we existed, whether it was just or not fair. all week we ran the town in our camisole tops on our long pale legs. drinking coke slush half the day, i swear. meeting farmer market folk with smiles all between us. eating almonds,  lucky charms -- spun out on kung pao four alarms.

    Photo by Katya, 2010
    At night she showed me chinese herbs. felt my six pulses. i watched and observed. She honored with me, silently, the ashes of my baby girl -- my cat in cedar safely laid to rest. I honored her to hold against those dreams sent down to terrify. Until she fell back asleep in my arms. Awoke I took a leak. Sisters here, now found! In love immersed, not drowned. Waters deep we waded.  held palms to palm we hoped to keep. spooned one another, faded into REM sleep.

    Agitations before unsettled,  smoothed calm by our embrace. Our tears  like all the post traumatic stress, fell into a light mist unitive. Faced and confronted washed away to gray. Chance set up the constellations, through which we astral traveled now...synchronizations turned our sensations toward thoughts of hope dripping into silence. leaving soft water marks in the sink...

    and back to that place we adore. legs tangled up. deep kissing.  faith and trust. stand by me, by you stand I. always to remember those times... i (you) turn into your (my) arms and just cry (cry). just cry.

    Wednesday, 11 August 2010

    Installment # V

    The shadows falling, we cut down the falling shadows, we cut them down to let more light in.
    The dark. The city... the  daily entreaty to the lost.... struggling and fighting. in warrior asana. in fleece. pulled apart. put together...again ripped to pieces.  We lay side by side in the park. reducing down to one another. light reduced to dark. bite reduced to bark. kingpin to mark.

    precipitation became longer, waxier, stronger, heavier. louder.
    hugs held on tight. compressions of breath exhaled as powder.
    eyes fiercely glowing to reflect our knowing

    love. she steeps long like some medicinal tease.
    one moment we lost her
    the next found the keys

    She stole out into night with her purse, change of clothes,  and whole bunch of hope:
     red for the courage to defy the establishment
    blue for the sadness in telling, departed
    green for the youth of the passion ignited
    purple for the aura to surround the white light
    yellow band around this from the suns attraction
    lunar pale dust to preserve and not rust...

     Rainbow were the colors i caught of her in traces
    turned sepia passing through me
    as i rode the bridge west,  towards her calling.
    across the empty

    All this moving closer
    shifts us ever far away
    deceptive like
    shifting of sands...unable
    to be grasped...sifting through
    our fingers

    out of reach
    out of hand

    perfume. little black dress buttoned over was she wearing.
    clouded against all my heads brief small clearing
    i squinted past the gas station in this godforsaken city
    (bonfire of pipes meltdown lives to molten lava)
     the distance between us falls away...
    all that stands between us now
    yellow flashers
    batting eyelids
    witness to another high tide
    love affair
    Mark Powers Untitled
    there in the bottoms
    frayed and fringed
    then in the street sunlight...