Monday 31 December 2018

Reading (ATE44)

Reading from my new novel Ame and the Tangy Energetic, available now on! Happy New Year, friends!

Thursday 27 December 2018

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happy holidays!

Wednesday 19 December 2018


My name is Katya W. Mills. I am an independent author of quality fiction.
You can find my published works here...

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Saturday 1 December 2018


i wanna start a band and we can play in dive bars for chump change for life

book review

They All Wore BlackThey All Wore Black by Lynn Penner
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

They All Wore Black was a compelling read and first effort for new novelist Lynn Penner of Ontario, Canada. A very realistic fiction about a family trying to heal after the death of the tyrannical patriarch. The story has a non-fiction feel. There were some parts that maybe were slower paced than others, like the chapters leading up to the confrontation of Herb, a military buddy of the father with an important secret to pry loose. The relationship between the surviving family members - sister, mother, brother - was what captivated me. I can say for sure i got goosebumps and shed tears at a critical point in the text, so that says a lot about my attachment to the characters.

View all my reviews

Sunday 25 November 2018


my friend who turned me on to  oolong and told me how his family in Laos used to pack the tea in bamboo pipes, shared how they came to America in the late 1970s. his father was enlisted as a soldier in service to his country and king. Laos sided with the USA during the Cold War and soldiers were assigned 100:1 under CIA operatives. These farmers were trained to shoot and trap and survive for weeks without food. His father was sent across the border to China where he tapped phone lines on orders of the king. After Vietnam, when the US pulled out of the region, they brought my friend's family and thousands of others to live in the States where they would be safe from almost certain death.

Friday 23 November 2018

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Wednesday 21 November 2018

still on a moving freeway

6pm. weeknight. seeing red. gone still in the center of an interstate. no one knows this place like i do. ground is polished smooth like marble. i can find my way home by sea glass in the stone.


i give thanks to god for all what makes my day to day more than okay. my love. my health. my cats. my work. my family. coffee. tea. my friends. the california sun. the moon. the freedom to express myself in any small way.

life is mostly wonderful

i wanna say how grateful i am. what a wonderful life. today is gonna see rain in a dry land. what could be more welcome than tears to a hardened, willful visage?

turn on

makes me happy to turn a friend on to writing a blog. anyone whose been disenfranchised or marginalized, who cannot contribute to their community through mainstream channels, may benefit by one. the last person i turned on told me a week later what it has done for him. for several hours after i post, he said, i feel good. like ive accomplished something important. i have six followers too.

coffee vs tea

i got turned on to some oolong tea by my coworker. he shared how his family used to harvest it back in China, they packed it in bamboo pipes after boiling it and mashing it to death. for life. the pipes were stored up in the roof and the tea would last indefinitely. the story was so powerful i have forsaken coffee for several days now. this is almost unheard of.

Monday 19 November 2018


holidays are here and i do not wish to crash. try not to overindulge in sugar and sweets. i wanna good effort going in the right direction. best to keep reading and writing.

Tuesday 6 November 2018

internalize stigma

what if all the ones with foul mouths for an expression you made suddenly had to internalize their own externalized stigma? imagine all the people. living under the same weight you suffer through and carry on.

tall green tea

I revisited the day and crushed on strangers. what with my tall iced green tea in a local café.


you opted out of the
midterm elections how
can I love without raising
I vote for you and me our

Wednesday 31 October 2018

not just on

prose (original)

i hardly ever dress up. i was raised in corduroy and cotton. took me twenty years to tear up my clothes. love of a thrift store and all you can find. life underground because main street got old. i could not appreciate anything. until I found you.

poem (remixed from prose)

i hardly ever dress up
i was raised in corduroy and cotton
took me twenty years to
tear up my clothes
love of a thrift store and all
you can find life underground because
main street got old
i could not appreciate anything
until I found you

cocoa and me

cocoa did her nails. then she did mine. she told me how happy i made her dad. she was a working girl and a high class escort. kept in a fancy hotel. SF. Civic Center. i was friends with her dad. Market Street felt alive and dead simultaneously. how could it be? i wondered what life was like. i lost my job and family and forgot how to pray. life was beginning to make sense.

what on earth

a life could not be loved. many years unaccounted for. scratch the whole system. a rainbow upside down. send your colors into outer space. there's no home for you here.

let us walk

religion was boy or girl and binary. this way or that. nothing in between. i was tomboy. i had a spirit. they wanted to catch it in butterfly nets. jar and jam. you were hard and wonderful. not like other girls. let's go get lost together. and we did.


have their own life. you cannot tame nor deny them. you can notice them. become aware. go do what you do. let them be. these are only thoughts. they need not hurt you or change or possess you.

11 going on 12

1985. the year of the almost divorce. my brother drove a Saab. you could hear each gear through the hills outside Boston like a soft and warm siren. i was having my first breakdown. witnessing the family fall apart. feeling it hot. crying all the time. my brother looked out for me.

31 (years)

2004. individuation. you beat the habit. the world brand new and you, what will you do? move to San Francisco. the Panhandle and Page Street. top floor of a tired Victorian. walking down to the Lower Haight district and the International Café. getting close to Jung and these books on psychology. wishing you had a six figure deal on your novel. Girl Without Borders. the rains came hard that winter. you didn't want to yet you felt all alone again like nothing gives.


nobody knows if you're real. they won't dare speak to you. free to be and not exist. a classic. a dialectic. wander the streets fueled by peanut butter cups. watch them all path back to home. doors close out the cold night. nobody calls for you. grotesque carved faces flicker and laugh. nowhere to go. nobody cares. you lick your fingers to rub off the paint but it won't go away! the ghostly palor is yours. now wander the streets for eternity.

fake blood

was so obvious at the corners of the mouth and eyes. the best kind of blood. the dog tried to lick it off your face. made everyone happy not shocked to see. nobody running for the first aid kit. self-described vampires drank it. under the frightful eyes of wannabe ghosts.

1980 kid. Halloween

Reaching for pulp in the pumpkin. Adults are huge with long arms and legs. Telling you what not to do. Tom and Jerry. Oriental rugs. Big painted doors and backlit doorbells. Holding sweaty hands. Candles in lanterns and long shadows cast by the moon.  Itchy Fuzzy sweaters. Trick or Treat!

Tuesday 30 October 2018

only prayer

only prayer draws me up from this lacking, this demoralization. this devastation. only prayer can restore me and my faith in these times.

how uncommon?

how uncommon my love of being alone
is it not
in a world which runs on

i love good company
the warmth of fellowship

yet to be on my own i
touch into the

Sunday 21 October 2018

channel surf

i gave up channel surfing for real life. this was not a mistake. i began to have adventures beyond a static location inside four walls. i befriended a cloud who introduced me to a shady place. i followed the cargo trains with my eyes before i decided to jump one. they were transporting televisions to channel surfers up and down the california coast. i rounded up a possé for a great train robbery. we sold tv's to survive.

October 1996 (remixed from entries)

i ran the streets
she saw me struggling
my struggle became ours

cold days under big sky
leaves dead and tumble
pale faces passing

she saw with her soul
images in her head
she painted painfully

while i lay on a couch
watching light
she swung herself over and
into my arms

dropping elbows into my chest
pinning us into the cushions


we ran the streets
we were young
all was told

gone the glittering

(remixing diary (1996) entries)

letter to true love (1996)

Here I reprint a letter I wrote (1996) and never sent
to my first true love. We parted ways that same year.
(from my black cover diary)...

A-- ,

Do you still love me? Because I love you and I'm not fucking around when I say so. And to be perfectly clear, to make certain you understand me completely and unquestionably, I want to tell you again I love you, and I have never stopped loving you from the day I met you, through the ups and downs, the varied moods, the emotional depths and altitudes; from the joy we carried, to the coffin of pain we buried. And if you ever want back in my life, my love, there's a home for you in Tampa, FL. I will never be too proud to confess my love for you, I promise, for love is too strong to be fooled by shallow pride.

cocaine (1996)

I found this piece I wrote in script, 1996
(black cover diary)...


sweeping the powder
with the tip of the fingernail
composing your lines

and nothing can bring
you back

bend the neck down
let a shoulder drop
turn your head to one side

meet your creation

the tide comes in
washes you away

fade gently into the horizon
behind a cloud

the undertow

your world has
consumed you


Monday 15 October 2018

guided mindfulness

a group exercise
by Katya Mills

Let’s try and get centered for a minute. Okay? (get permission from group). I am going to ring these Tibetan bells to start and to finish. I want you to relax. You can close your eyes or keep them open. You can relax your eyes and soften your focus. Let yourself get comfortable in your chair…

Ring bells

Now notice your breath. You can breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. You can imagine yourself inhaling sweet goodness and exhaling all the negative energy you may have picked up along your way here. Just breathe in that yummy oxygen… let all the bad stuff go. You do not have to breathe deeply but you can if you want. The point is to notice your breath and not change it.

Feel how the chair supports your weight.
Notice the fabric surrounding your toes.
Notice the floor beneath your feet.
Notice any thoughts coming into your head, just notice them.
See if you can watch them and let them go on their way, like mist carried off on a breeze.

Come back to your breath…
Notice your sensations
What do you feel against your hands
Your arms, your back, your legs
Feel the chair supporting you
Notice any feelings you are having at all, try and just notice them
Let them pass by like clouds across the sky

Come back to your breath…
Inhale the good energy…

Ring bells 

channeling anxiety into effective action!

today is monday. i have a full work week ahead of me. i wake up semi-refreshed and with a narrow window to make coffee, oatmeal, shower, make up, and dress for the day. i experience the anxiety at first in waking. prayer is helpful to offset it. mindful interaction with my cats. calling someone i love to let them know i care. a mantra i repeat aloud: nam-myoho-renge-kyo. an affirmation: yes. you can do this. the world is yours. basic morning rituals. i hope not to push this anxiety away. it gets larger as i am driving on the freeway. offset it with national public radio. mindfulness in driving. feeling the sensation of the steering wheel. listening to the sound of the road and the engine. soft focusing my eyes so i can see the morning sun as it hits the trees on either side. reminding myself i am capable. i will do the best i can today. i may make mistakes and that's okay. turn the radio down. i try and half smile or even sing a song out loud to myself. look at the city skyscrapes as i pass through downtown. today is monday. if i stay fully present, in the here and now, it is no different than any other day. i can experience it the same if i breathe deeply and pay attention, and bring my wandering mind back into the moment. i cannot stop my mind from wandering. notice where it goes. remembering something which happened yesterday. last week. concerned about the upcoming holidays. or a particular event coming up. i radically accept that it is the nature of the mind to fall into the past and future. my mind is sensitive. it is trying to help me. it just goes about sometimes the wrong way. gently bring my thoughts back into the moment. oh! there it goes again drifting away. its okay. bring it back. gently. try not to judge myself. try not to judge anyone else. this is all information and im curious. i like to learn. the world is a fascinating place to live. i have anxiety and its not gonna kill me. its trying to help me gear up for the day. tackle all my challenges. i want to relate to it. form a working relationship with my anxiety. put a hat on it and give it a name and a purpose in my life, today.

Sunday 14 October 2018


the sun stopped paying attention to our land. we found our way to town by the light of the moon. we traded our apple harvest for peace of mind.  the shades took our offering reluctantly. they wanted our homes and our lives. the cool nights will give way to snowstorms. we can only hope to be deluged and snowed in for the winter. it will be our only chance to survive.

book status three

I am ecstatic what with autumn approaching and taking over this city. And all my heart drawn into the work I will soon drop into play on the market! I am grateful to the loyal ones who have read my books and waited patiently for fresh ink to dry. And excited to entice new readers.

book status one

I have put 50 more hours editing into my novel over the past month. Meanwhile i have been inspired by and contributed to 4 chosen communities across this 3 year arc, to coincide with the journey of the lives of my characters. The Q+ Friends. The social workers. The creatives. And the community recovering from addiction. What a time it has been.

book status two

The plot has finally come full circle, and my 5th work of fiction is weighing in @ 60,000 words +. I can promise you each word has gotten equal attention and first rate treatment. You can cancel your trip to Vegas. Read my book. The entertainment is top notch.

Friday 12 October 2018


up before sunrise
I was made for the dawn
the wind whips off the lake
like nothing can inhabit
this land

Sunday 7 October 2018

dead air

I cannot stand
dead air

I like circulation

I like having my voice
and using it


i was not gonna wait for anything. not for my day to get better. not to get along with you just so i might feel differently


i chose to take it and
make it my

what's the rush

i will take the day slow
really get inside the seconds
break up the sentence
dress every letter up and down
listen for the infinitesimal
flood of ink swallowing

Friday 5 October 2018

ohio suburb 1979

some days
the whole circle has come around
to all squares and
the sameness
gloomy unlit days neverending
sad forgotten  beneath spinning
blades of suburban Ohio
steel coughing up blackness of
winter throat
maybe the moon will pop
like a toaster
let’s play a video
game it’s better for original

kid (intoxicated)

the carpet fibers were springy
under the step you could
fall in them and sit there in
the middle of the

no one would make
a big deal you were
little enough everyone
had a smile

for you except maybe the
most checked out of them
thinking about divorce
wondering how much it
would cost

nobody knew you but you
were drunk some too loaded
off vodka and cranberry and
you knew nobody knew

you nobody knew
or you knew them too
the laughter felt loud all
inside you

wouldn't it be nice
if mom tucked you
in already? why don't you
wanna stay up with the lights
and smiles and candy red

you know
they know you don't know
how it feels but you

nobody knew but you you
were. guessed you for happy go

space age

i was a little old fashioned
cooking astronaut chicken bones down
 to moondust i

something to contend with

the crowd measured
in thousands

Boston in October

Yankees at Fenway

these games
we play

signifying nothing

look up
see the sky

something to contend

i got upset

all i did was give you my thoughts
you gave me yours

am i a canvas upon which you throw your paint?
am i no use to you if i have my own
color scheme?

it hurts
and yes
i got upset

Sunday 30 September 2018


she was my friend
now she's gone and
i wish i had been
longer by her


i am so lucky to even live
so many in my circles they
passed on

may the thankfulness
live forever. if nothing

i fought it all

now i live and know differently, i see how unwilling i was to accept my lot in life. how sad. so many years lost fighting shadows. reality never folded...

i am okay now, mostly. i have my moods. maybe those years were neither sad nor lost. they just were. i liked a good fight. i liked being counter and intuitive...

whatever. it made me who i am. and i am no longer any demon or junky. i would rather ask you more about yourself. then chase down juicy stories in my head.

swim in baby blue

i finally used the key to open the gate and let myself in. summer was over and i was thankful. i set the water in motion, immersing myself complete. what a sensation. i left it alone and a trail of dripping wet. above and looking down from where i hung my clothes, i noticed the light show. a translation of my form. a liquid print. what was left of my rhythm. illuminated by the sun in baby blue. something understood me.


the copy is aged the paper turning orange and yellow. ive been reading to the lighthouse by virginia woolf. there is no spine of which to speak, and with each turn of page a sheet pulls off like a petal from a flower. my kittens have taken the masterpiece across the hardwood floors and made better use of it than i


idaho is in between
i cannot know this state
i never been

you feed us off your farms
and welcome us with open

idaho on film
boise. bustling

you may as well be
a star i keep edgy
off my plate

some day the gods
may swallow us


a sunday and a random car with a window smashed out and clouds all banking the sky. is it gonna rain? maybe. i feel sorrow and I don't know why

october. 1

like the days we march on. october. i have an affinity for you. your cooling trend. the killing off of worst of summer. i become pensive and add layers. indoors i go quiet. wrapped in blankets reading books. though autumn is the end, i see renewal in thoughts and feeling states. even love, lost in the humidity, pounded out of stereos, is attainable once again.

Tuesday 25 September 2018


comes a time when each passing moment is so unlike the one before and after it, i wonder how i could have been awestruck by a thousand years of human progress. more was accomplished in the time it took to compose.

Monday 24 September 2018

moments like these

full moon

how my past was
made of moments


we cannot live. undersea

another river breached its banks. we searched for higher ground. 5 million chickens drowned. we would rather tag an asteroid with a robot barnacle, find a way to mars, than try and learn to live under level of the sea.


the moon. full tonight for all to see. we missed it. i was watching you and you me. we rose. for all and the moon. to see.

Friday 21 September 2018


fall touches the sun spun side of the earth. and permeates. gets into everything. even your smile.


fall rises in the system. hot coffee becomes special. essential. we need each other more to keep warm.

Thursday 20 September 2018

i could not have known

how to live
had i not taken many risks
with a no reward principle
to guarantee my

feeling normal
never taught me

Saturday 15 September 2018

an unfortunate sound

i don't mind

sure i feel bad for the kids
decked in flippers
and snorkels

waiting for the
 green light

a pipe burst underground

inky liquid came to
 surface by the pool

 i never swam here
but i lived here

came to consider
the filtration system
an unfortunate

b street theater of life

friday night coming on

all the singles hit all
the corner stores for

that was me
in chicago

once i got robbed
walkin home

a knife to my
neck i yelled

take the fuckin booze
its yours

i was broke anyway
and tired of my life

they left me runnin off
empty shakin
hands beatin


now i really feel

thought no.7680012549991623842738

cannot be trusted

Sofia. B street theatre

city and her music of noise

was america was
chicago was life worth
working for ina cross
road. you and me and any one
fought through the seasons
the vocals the
the steam of whistling
i could feel the touch
the warmth beneath your voice
in a cold world
you could shout you could scream
you would have to
to be heard
then the aftermath the streets
the faces ina diner
ina hard won heartfelt
part of town

mocha skin tones made by
sun and genes
cream and sugar and
coffee black
where noise is music
toasting broken hearts and
dishes and bottles

 you woke me up

i can feel you today thousands
of miles away

i can laugh
i can cry ona dime ina city
and the music of

i was and wasn't

- Katya Mills

Wednesday 12 September 2018

wednesday was

only an extension
of tuesday
a prolonged monday

a lost weekend
forgot how
to end

Monday 10 September 2018

where do i go

i spoke up for somebody 
no one wanted to 

they had lodged their 
beliefs. the ones huddled
in the cold waiting their turn
at a room got turned

i was left shaken
almost defeated
unable to defend 
a friend

where do i go
when the system fails?
where do i go

i go home i drink tea i
read books i i i i pray i
get lost in my thoughts i
do not wanna care

you and me we

Sunday 9 September 2018

anaethesia and the infomercial

zombies of tv and the infomercial
take a back seat

 automobiles full
of real people

auction off humor
to the cheapest bid
ina captive audience

just drive
show some fucking compassion

if you drove like you speak
someone would be dead
in the road


they missed me
they did. i was over under
 or around their little
ideas of me

they will miss you

so will i
i will miss you
will you
miss me?

what are we
if not missed

Friday 7 September 2018

occupy earth

tesla smokes a joint
 goes space-x
illustrating plans
to occupy mars

i wanna occupy
earth a little

coffee at dawn
sunset jasmine

color swirling sky
black and white

all the wild
animals. and i
will not pro

i am

no carbon needs
get roped and pulled
and spit into the air

to feed my

Thursday 6 September 2018

more space guesswork

Andromeda did not mind about the light years gone missing. Saturn or some body in space was happy to harbor them but they sure took their time arriving. Watch out you might get fractal off the rings, or maybe that's what was supposed to happen. I always cut up my years into months and smaller increments. I bake them in a pan and they come out all seasonal. That way kids know when they go bad, not to eat them. Andromeda takes them back when we send them, and turns them into meteor showers, the galaxy to exfoliate. Deep space is the safest place around, minimal pollution, air and sound. I wanna go there when my world fails me. I cannot stand the anxiety. Earth looks good from the outside, but just try burning through the atmosphere; you will soon discover it wasn't worth it. Sorry to let you down and all.
to the lighthouse cat by kat

Wednesday 5 September 2018

pool key kid

i dreamt of a jump
off a balcony


i got a key
to a gate 
to a pool

now i can
get wet
the way they want me
to get wet


then if i make it
up quickly and

i can lie

on the couch
by the window

watch the waters turn
my ceiling into a light

and daydream
some more
through vertical

Tuesday 4 September 2018


there's more beyond the numbers the cigarettes the coupons more behind the words the thoughts the deeds more to come of life itself! why would i restrict myself to a rising setting sun? only a single revolution around the earth is needed to prove it is not so.

Monday 3 September 2018

notarize the thighs -vii

oversaturated with char-broil
ranch sauce and carpet sales

how would we survive
if we rented out
our heads
dinner by k

come knocking
first of the month

they look at us incredulous
shaking out a hook
the jingle

pay up motherfucker
you live on our land

did you think
this was

Sunday 2 September 2018

asian market

we went to the asian market
 and found a fish
 to fry

packed in ice behind
a hundred
thousand pounds of
rice we were

careful not
to look
him in

the eye

Saturday 1 September 2018

the legend of captive 8

captive 8
did not hesitate
they made it out

the words
of dying 
breath persist

i am free 
captive 8 by kwm

captive 9
may never know
the old great feel
of earth and pine
and snow

of trees and moon
long shadows

captive 8
a foot of snow
held their imprint 

so long

home they went
due north
for what 
a life was

captive 9
had heard 
the shot
the hope
as well 

that night
behind a downy 

they cried the memory

of captive 8
who shared
the dream

locking doors
and prison whores
'neath the cold 

all they ever
knew was all
they ever

- kwm

Friday 31 August 2018

shadow of a bell

i awoke
 tense with fear 
tibetan bell by k

 a subway car
 the killer
   blue sandals

projects on

 i try to hide from
anyone's eyes

  what had they thought
 i had done?

the crime

i am not
the one!


i moved to california from chicago hoping to renew my life. i was always looking 4 the energy to carry on. depressed and reluctant 2 try antidepressants after all the pills in china failed to help. some good people helped me get through the day by days. i got a job and sold my house in illinois. i bought a truck and read some books. i could not write anymore. not without cocaine and bourbon with milk. believe me, i tried. i carried a deep sense of self-betrayal (though no longer self-medicating and destroying myself). a better life was waiting to receive me. my demons were not done with me. i read more books. i walked around and thought. i enrolled in graduate school to study transpersonal psychology. i read William James and Carl Jung and Bill Wilson. i wanted to make a difference in my community. i had to teach myself to be responsible all over again. i had to be alone. to write without putting anything in me. just a cup of coffee or tea...ten years later i found the courage to really live.


whisky sour in my hand
somewhere near division

the heart got exploited
by the vision 

somehow i 
got by

turnin inward
on myself

awaiting the great
fade out 

double zero


we could taste 
the millennium on 
our collective 

back in '99 
i was 26 

preferred the written word
to my fists

ebook! book!

my book is on sale today

Maze  — ebook copy  (link takes you to
In a modern day American city, there are those who track and hunt down humans for their fear. They are indiscernible from you and me. This is the story of Ame, an unusual girl with a tendency to fall for all the wrong ones. Her abduction was foretold by the voices in her head. She has the same light in her eyes that marks them. She wants only to capture your fear… and maybe your heart.
In this sequel to Katya Mills’ urban fantasy, Daughter of Darkness, Ame has fallen in love with a young man who shares the dark gift. He skateboards into her life and they roam the streets together. Conflicted by her own violent nature, she has become nevertheless intoxicated by the ways. She thirsts after ‘the tangy energetic’. A death dealer of a different kind prowls around the boarding house where Ame and her boyfriend live. Meanwhile her best friend, Bless, vies for her attention.
Hendrix, a bloodhound for tracking fear, inadvertently leads Ame to Kell, a kindred spirit in the grips of a terrible addiction. She takes her little sister with green eyes under her wing. Just as Ame seems to have found her rhythm in the chaos surrounds her, someone very close to her disappears. In her search for her loved one she uncovers a secret, revealed on the tapes of a security camera, which threatens to uproot her, once again.

thanks for supporting indy authors like me!
Katya W. Mills

last dream in august

this morning i am early to rise
a dream i had stays with me
but i do not remember until
i get a phone call from my best friend
who also is early to rise

i begin to share with him my dream
for he was in it and in it
i had to call 911 because i was worried
about him

the officer on the phone
listened and asked me questions
then calmed me and reassured me
it was good that i called and

i had no need to worry any longer
about my friend and
gave me a bible verse which was
Corinthians 3:16

i only call up these numbers
when i recount the dream to my friend
who called me and who happened to be
the subject of the very dream!

he asks me do i know the verse?
i do not and i do not
 often read my bible anymore so
right then and there i 

call up the verse online and 
cannot even get through it 
without fighting back tears...

Do you not know that you 
are the temple of God 
and that the Spirit 
of God dwells in you?

Wednesday 29 August 2018

bipolar remix. foaming

life and all its head aching
enormitydull like old world
war weaponry
under glass
twist the cork to
the pop
bubbles burst over West Hollywood
neurotransmitters desperate
to breathe
out the dizzy head
the flutes
fighting for air
now i can do anything i
can write a book i
can read a book i
can call ten hundred acquaintances
make them friends
make them family i
can be anyone i
ecstatic applause
then staticunderwater
ina drought
life and all its head aching
enormitydull like old world
war weapons
under glass
twist the cork
bubbles burst over Hollywood
neurotransmitters desperate
to breathe
out the dizzy heads
gasping i
fighting for air i
in the gutter
below the booths
ecstatic applause
then static
underwater i
ina drought i am
perspiring i
shouting and calling
the flutes spill over
and over with
laughing and screaming
screaming and i
and i
the flutes spill over
and over with

by kwm

irascible remix

yet trapped beneath
the truth
trying to see through
stepped on
into a gel
rolls out the socket
on to the pavement

shaking like a molly
warped by

i woulda died for clarity
squished my sides for the truth
beneath a rubber

by kwm

remix. blue too

she was not sad. she hid in the mountainside when the rains came hard like tropical noon. once tranquil she was now and then a monsoon. downcast from time to time. rivers caught the swollen tears of fortune. she irrigates our lands. so to feed our children. for to carry on and on and on

by kwm

remix. pearls

life got painful
you couldn't take it anymore
so you found a corner to cut
you got caught
you were young and that's what we do
we make mistakes
we are reckless
learning to live
today the pearls are strung
thrice around your
turkish coffee drips into ceramic
sheltered inside your hands
translucent like newborn sea shells
all that ever happened
in your eyes

by kwm

remix. what was given us

colorless moments of stressed inhibition
must i be always backed into a corner before i come

a sea of bad news and brake lights

even tears and smiles
were a stretch

from that place of half flag summer fatigue
arose a current from the far

we would not know until we opened two walls
the windows

life came into the trees
i awoke feeling different
all the colors returned
time was no longer just a waiting for work
there was meaning
it was personal
it was yours
it was mine

© kwm

remix. painted fences

i was moody
i was ready i was
running through a field
i was young i was
i was heading for a fall
you were walking
you were friendly eating raspberries
off the bush
you were older
and reticent and you
wanted to protect me
we were unlikely bound for friendship
in a deep and southern
town we drank orange juice
walked the shoreline
painted fences stood us

by kwm

Monday 27 August 2018


1998. love life lacking. movement from ocean side of florida to inner city chicago. dreams of cultural context to inspire, a wealth of journal entries in a leather bound book given you by your brother. you ride two wheels on a bike manufactured by japan. you are running away from something, you don't know what. you haven't learned anything outside of books. you hunger for the streets. thirst for excitement. you had it really good. soft and sea bound. you are about to get your ass kicked @ 25. willingly.

Saturday 25 August 2018

wrong way

You do not randomly end up a hundred miles an hour wrong way fireballing on the freeway, taking lives along with you to the other side. maybe you got deadnamed or bullied or beaten one too many times. maybe you lived in addictionland. whatever it was, these seemingly random acts are not so. you turned wrong way long ago.

Friday 24 August 2018

beset by beauty

the blue periods I have had in life were not always the small tragedies, colored by loss; small triumphs were equally blue. I miss the bursts of confidence and hope, the clearings. the quality of light there. where the dream and reality converge. the most unlikely places, beset by beauty. you change in some small way. only your brothers and sisters in the struggle understand how you got there. the shared memory is all can be recollected. gather it in your arms. hold it to your heart. tell the story if you can.

Thursday 23 August 2018

life in white and black

kids scoop pudding to their lips and make forms of the clouds, cartoon characters. careless the jets cross the sky. the parents have no custody arrangement other than when I feel like taking care of them, I will, until you grab them back, okay, and it works for a while. we think it works... the kids sure eat a ton of pudding.


a waitress wears the fabric of a broken heart, four seasons turning colors. just shy of chicago. all the laughter makes her wanna cry. he's drunk somewhere and high, lost her, wanna die. gotta hit the pavement, pay your rent. this is love at 23.

Wednesday 22 August 2018

ghost of a heart throb

fell upon the canyon
delirious at dusk
like some warm

then swallowed by
the pool
a heart throb
lost a pulse

we thought nothing of the truth
the future made it

Monday 20 August 2018


5 years or more i
have subsisted on
modernity alone
eternity on
a mobile phone

5 years or more
without my signature
to sign. i am automated
by design

5 years or more and
substance free
the kettle boils
for coffee
and tea

5 years or more trying
to remember how
to read

mostly writing
into a

Sunday 19 August 2018

I read

I set up some light ina room and the kittens were sleeping to public radio Sunday evening jazz while i read through my manuscript. I'm coming up on some free time and I wanna work it out. I read without my glasses and carelessly on purpose, hoping not to get caught up in any detail, just read. I am open to total reconfiguration or whatever it takes to reclaim this 3 year project, own it and finish. Story has a life of its own. I discovered one chance tonight. I could take the split narratives and reunify them.  Then the first half of the book would be all Kell and the second half, Ame. Why not? I can try and resave a new draft and read the copy through that way. Then I will know if that's a better issue. Because what stands before me now, the existing form, is lacking. I have to be open hearted and willing to recreate this gem so it truly shines alongside my other novels. There's no other way!

Saturday 18 August 2018

rebellion (internal)

there are energies like crickets set up to hum inside us when we are young, they speak to us of rebellion and work us into our circumstances. some are fueled by attitudes and opinions that over time got shaped into beliefs. others don't give a damn whether it's day or night, whether we are tired or hungry, broke or nicely compensated. they whip up a storm in us which is honestly so compelling, we cannot resist despite our better judgment. we live. we cannot help but live!

night sequence

big city by choice, you and me, we came in together on the back of big city adrenaline rush. we had a fight, you got upset and turned your back on me. i got lost like i did in those days, running away from all i knew, on purpose. a magnet for manipulation. surreptitiously hunted by strangers. most of what i had with me would be stolen, especially my pride. threatened and blamed and treated with derision. magically thinking, i wished for you to appear on any corner. some girl had a mind to show me compassion, but even she turned and twisted the knife, being skeptical and not buying my incredible story. lost and no obvious avenue home. no money, no phone, no friends. those I turned to for help could not help me for they were all too embedded in their ways. became convinced i was less so. how quickly one can go from respectable citizen to  vagrant. if anyone decides to hunt you and rough you up, for kicks, you're a goner. that night, like many before and after, i got myself into such a world, so deeply, i almost did not make it out. why i was such a lost soul for so long, i may never fully understand. now i get to wake up and thank god im no longer insane, for these are only night sequences, bubbling up from the depths of traumatic memory, and the unconscious.

Friday 17 August 2018

draw near the dark melody

out toward the center of the lake, august summer nights, the water dead calm. the atmosphere uninterrupted, both surface and air. they could not see one another and could no longer hear all the commotion on every shore. a loon gets lonely, too.

and there despair was born. made it's way up the long and slender throats. the necks pointed to the sky, and curves of beak parted, opening throats to air. the saddest melody filled the lonely night with sound. echoes in every cove.

we were young and holding hands. snuck out with flashlights to walk the banks to the painted bridge. hidden in the deepest shadows of the canopy, on a new moon night. drawn together out on the island, waiting. long winter a distant memory.

listen... the aching pain of solitude is calling! before i only heard your sweet voice. so small we are... touching your soft warm palm with mine... feeling your breath on my face... i may never feel so close to you again.

Thursday 16 August 2018


Blues to soul
I could feel the love
The warmth beneath your voice
You could shout a song
I never saw or heard anything
Like you
Mocha skin tone
Cream and sugar
Black coffee
You made us all rich
You woke us up
I could feel the love
I could laugh
I could cry
On a dime
With the whole

Tuesday 14 August 2018


borderline felt fenced in again and jumped from side to side. she took the bridge to nowhere and climaxed beyond 100 in her ride. finally she could breathe. the tears got blown off the side into gray sky and fell to darker waters. the contrast was kindness to her eyes. guns was on the radio. a kiss from axl rose to make it better. she found a wild flower on the river bank and wove it into locks. kicked some rocks and walked back to her car. the radiator fan still blowing out the heat. when the rains began to hit the pavement, well, she liked to believe she started all that storm.


trouble pushed a curse off the edge of a busted lip. didn't care. got home after lights out. escaped into comic books when bliss blew up again. was secretly oversensitive and cried himself to sleep. only little sister knew. courage was taking the brown glass, pushing skateboard through alleys to the vacant lot. smashing bottles on the old brick wall. broken feels so good. all was left of home. all the necessary rules lying there in liquid and why not? culture never did nothing. some day with little sister's help he would write a letter. hitchhike outta here. find a paper route and a giant wave to surf. santa cruz will do. 

Monday 13 August 2018

8 less 8 was none

the composition shifts a degree and the whole world dissolves. the fires far east lick the earth, suffocate the seaweed paper tongue, two air-conditioned hearts, tokyo rising sun. four chamber orchestra reflection in the sea. sails stretch out for perth. eight, less eight, makes none.

blue too

she was not sad. she hid in the mountainside when the rains came hard like tropical noon. once tranquil she was now and then a monsoon. downcast from time to time. rivers caught the swollen tears of fortune. she irrigates our lands. so to feed our children. for to carry on and on and on

14 twelve

in 12 we found fourteen
a chance to come clean
there can be no

the thoughts
the feelings
cannot be trusted

go and do what must be done
today is the only

disparity of a spirit

the ash has fallen and losses are revealed. a lucky one. i am surrounded by all i have. though i may fight my growing belly and hard won responsibility, i see i lack nothing. today the sun rises in a great dispersion of rays. no more the orange coal. the fires are contained. my spirit can laugh once again.

Wednesday 8 August 2018


haze and cars all
in the shop for days
the temperature refuse
to drop. mercury
approaches the bus
stop. flashes red
and betas swim
in flames across the
english channel


Monday 6 August 2018

lost weekend

i lost myself last weekend
in the gaze of hazy summer
burn, on tray liners, in fast food

i lost myself riverside searching
for water lily gardens. little girl
chasing ducks. swings her bell
off a low tree branch in the shade

i found myself fearful
sweating the small stuff with you
again. fuck. how many moments
away from the deep

simplicity blue. one pack holds
all we need to survive. one road
an entire adventure

one laugh into the chasm one
prayer. i am here. you are there
nothing stands between us

u lose u

gatherin stale opinions
off the internet is
flashin screens
in your face
you gotta get up
brush it off and
go talk to someone
then uncover who you
really are
you clearly know
who you are

half a million acres

i was glowing like
the morning sun 

only my new hairstyle
could offset a sense of

half a million acres 
have burned
they say

no longer grace 
the earth. they live 
in the

where may i go


the sun rose red
in an ashen sky
my failing was fast food
and an instant

Friday 3 August 2018


i am constituted of methods mistaken for madness by those who believe so strongly in ideas they have fixed to a chain in the backyard. we are not made up of thoughts of us. they can cuss you out to kingdom come. cursing's what they made of. go and live your life. I am constituted of good will and fire in the belly for a creative compelling outcome manufacturing something rare of high quality, worthwhile.

Thursday 2 August 2018


two in eight and eight of two
got tossed up and turned
a few. 1982

gimme some
rolling off the tongue

you got me an
i got you
dollars turn to

music fills the hall
a powder white

soon the smiling dancing
do not care falls off
the face

what a way
to go

one in eight and eight of one
lives in shadows
of the sun

where all is of a hue
translucent eggplant blue

and songbirds whistle

encased in film
and glue

Tuesday 31 July 2018

your fortune

befalls you
each morning
   when you
 come to

slap your face
  drink your dreary coffee

eat twice as much

still you lack
    cut yourself
   no slack

the assembly line of life
wants you back

don't go

give yourself a
a lavender mud mask
write a book
count all your pennies
shout Foucault to the rooftops

leave us your history
of madness