Sunday, 30 April 2017

(we are) wall ball material

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

salvage yards
smoke trails
bits of plastic
bits of plaster
bits of glass

we are
wall ball material
circa 1973

our water
steady boiling
ona stove
poached eggs
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


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
ona edge
ina pool
of light 

one candle

 from a
world and


- KatYa


in the foamy froth
so recently drained
boiled off

the scientists stand

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 

the sound
a hollow tone

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

Monday, 24 April 2017


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

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

i wondered if all of the darkness
 he shared


yet i knew our


- 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

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




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


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 





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


Wednesday, 5 April 2017


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