Friday, 30 June 2017


K. June 2017
our gods were different and we broke into hard candy and cell phones chirping to be hacked. China and Germany were already in there, coded in sugar of maples from Canada. the world turned pink and tasted of Pepto Bismol, when all the acid washed away, I asked you and you did, Stay

Thursday, 29 June 2017

1984 kids

1984 kids

July came along and nobody knew our names
the fireworks were popping
no one could see them
they peppered our ears

we checked the sky
the powder had ignited
the oxygen burned
the paper falling to ground

after dark
we saw the snakes flying
umbrellas of light
the stars draped by the tails

slowly we recognized
who we were
cars and voices
and our names being called
in the night

cars and voices and our names
being called

in the night

our names
being called

- KatYa, 2017

This is my recently completed full 'video book' reading...

book review...

The Dead ZoneThe Dead Zone by Stephen King
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is definitely one of my favorites by King. If you are a child of the eighties (or older), gen x, you will get a real nostalgia kick what with all the references to American culture 1970's. The characters come to life, the storylines thread well and weave into a fine fabric, and it's not too gory or over the top with fantasy, less supernatural more psychic powered, and overall the book is pretty timeless. The movie's not bad, either, what with Chris Walken. This ice cream cone is vintage Stephen King and stand alone sweet!

View all my reviews

Wednesday, 28 June 2017


This is the final reading from my novel Girl Without Borders. If you enjoyed this reading and wish to hear more, you can go to my YouTube channel and watch or listen to me read the entire book, start to finish, in the playlist titled the same. Each reading is 2-5 minute increments and the playlist allows you to set your controls to play the book all the way through if you select the button to play the next video automatically. I would encourage anyone who enjoyed the video/audio to pick up the novel at, barnes and noble, itunes, or other online retailers. The book is available in paperback and ebook form. Thank you for supporting independent authors.



GWB book reading 2.16.1

Tuesday, 27 June 2017

made my strikes

I went bowling over the weekend and made my strikes... we had nothing left to spare. I dropped some van halen on the ears and a ten pound marble on wax floors, and that puppy found its way to the void and disappeared, taking a whole lotta sticks with it to the hereafter. My form wasn't very good and gosh, I didn't care about the arrows or the baseball game or the scorecard on the screen next to it. All I cared about was turning around to look you in the eyes and know you loved me.

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


"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 

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

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

there is
still time yet

journal # june one

Couldn't stand you but
the weather was

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
                  up with what the cows

I think it all started
i mean ended
in 1992