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

october

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

winter

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

not

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

no

i chose to take it and
make it my
own

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
paper

Friday, 5 October 2018

ohio suburb 1979 (the original screenagers)

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

lawnmowers

steel coughing up blackness of
winter throat
coat

maybe the moon will pop
like a toaster

glowing

let's play a video
game it's better

kid (intoxicated)

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

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
carpet?

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

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

space age

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

something to contend with

the crowd measured
in thousands

Boston in October

the
Yankees at Fenway
Park

these games
we play

signifying nothing

look up
see the sky

there's
something to contend
with

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

adrienne

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

life

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

may the thankfulness
live forever. if nothing
else

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.

virginia

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

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

you feed us off your farms
and welcome us with open
arms

idaho on film
boise. bustling
noisy

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

some day the gods
may swallow us
too

why

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

fall.4

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

4am
full moon
           fall

remembering
how my past was
made of moments

            just
        like
      these

we cannot live. undersea

another river breeched 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.

fall.3

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.2

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

fall

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
uneducated
with a no reward principle
to guarantee my
misery

feeling normal
never taught me
nothin

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

and
came to consider
the filtration system
an unfortunate
 sound

b street theater of life

friday night coming on

all the singles hit all
the corner stores for
bottles

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
heart

thinkin

now i really feel
alive

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
exhaust
the steam of whistling
industry
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
noise
i was and wasn't
there

Wednesday, 12 September 2018

wednesday was

wednesday
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 
listen 

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

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
exist

Sunday, 9 September 2018

anaethesia and the infomercial

zombies of tv and the infomercial
take a back seat

 automobiles full
of real people
gossiping

auction off humor
to the cheapest bid
ina captive audience

just drive
show some fucking compassion
please

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

missing

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

they will miss you
too

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
longer

coffee at dawn
sunset jasmine
tea

color swirling sky
black and white
tv

all the wild
animals. and i
will not pro
create

i am
anti

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

to feed my
kids

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

before

i got a key
to a gate 
to a pool

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

civilized
like

then if i make it
up quickly and
indoors

i can lie

down
on the couch
by the window

watch the waters turn
my ceiling into a light
show

and daydream
some more
through vertical
blinds

Tuesday, 4 September 2018

infinite

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
pitches

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

what
did you think
this was
free

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
somehow

the words
of dying 
breath persist

i am free 
now
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
glow

captive 8
a foot of snow
held their imprint 
form 

so long

home they went
due north
for what 
a life was
worth

captive 9
had heard 
the shot
disintegrate 
the hope
as well 

that night
behind a downy 
swell

they cried the memory
clean

of captive 8
who shared
the dream

locking doors
and prison whores
'neath the cold 
steel 
toe

all they ever
knew was all
they ever
know



- kwm




Friday, 31 August 2018

shadow of a bell

i awoke
 tense with fear 
to
    remember
tibetan bell by k

 a subway car
 the killer
   blue sandals

projects on
me

 i try to hide from
anyone's eyes

  what had they thought
 i had done?

unspeakable
the crime

i am not
the one!

2003-2013

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.

99.26

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 

a
double zero
collision

26.99

we could taste 
the millennium on 
our collective 
tongues

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 Amazon.com)
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.
448c6-maze

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
gasping
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
perspiring
 
life and all its head aching
enormitydull like old world
war weapons
under glass
twist the cork
pop
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
effervescence
Hollywood
shouting and calling
singing
the flutes spill over
and over with
foam
effervescence
Hollywood
laughing and screaming
screaming and i
and i
 
i
the flutes spill over
and over with
foam


by kwm

irascible remix

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

shaking like a molly
warped by
dropsy

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


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
neck
turkish coffee drips into ceramic
sheltered inside your hands
nails
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
fighting?

a sea of bad news and brake lights
ahead

even tears and smiles
were a stretch

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

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
adventurous
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
down


by kwm

Monday, 27 August 2018

25

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.

23

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
companion

then swallowed by
the pool
a heart throb
lost a pulse

we thought nothing of the truth
the future made it
false

Monday, 20 August 2018

modernity.5

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
feed

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

queen

Motown
Detroit
Chicago
Mississippi
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
World

Tuesday, 14 August 2018

borderline

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

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
hesitation

the thoughts
the feelings
cannot be trusted

go and do what must be done
today is the only
day

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

mercury

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

spark
america
spark

Monday, 6 August 2018

lost weekend

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

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
wearisome
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
not

half a million acres

i was glowing like
the morning sun 

only my new hairstyle
could offset a sense of
setback 

half a million acres 
have burned
they say

they
no longer grace 
the earth. they live 
in the
sky

where may i go
myself
today

smoke

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

Friday, 3 August 2018

eight.three

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

eight.two

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

gimme
gimme
gimme some
rolling off the tongue

you got me an
i got you
dollars turn to
straw

music fills the hall
a powder white
parade

soon the smiling dancing
do not care falls off
the face

what a way
to go



eight.one

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
dirges

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
  black

eat twice as much
  oatmeal

still you lack
    cut yourself
   no slack

the assembly line of life
wants you back
jack...

don't go

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

leave us your history
of madness

bipolar

life and all its head aching
enormity

dull like old world
war weapons
under glass

twist the cork toward
the pop

bubbles burst over West Hollywood
neurotransmitters desperate
to breathe

out the dizzy heads
gasping

the flutes
fighting for air
in the gutter
below the booths

ecstatic applause
then static

underwater
ina drought
perspiring

effervescence
Hollywood
laughing and screaming
in delight

the flutes spill over
and over with
 foam

irascible

irascible
yet trapped beneath
the truth

trying to see through
stepped on
glasses

blurs
all into a gel
the eye

then the voices

you could find her
predawn by
the old covered
bridge

if you moved like a shadow
conceived in the less than light

a world of silence
in her head
overtook the duck pond
by the lily pad bed

then the light
then traversed
the sky

only the pond
remained dark with
her reflection
and the night

then the voices
began to bubble
anaerobic from the depths

then the cry to stop
then the aeroplane
then the cry for help

an orchestra of crickets
picked up where
they left
off

you can find her
predawn by
the old covered
bridge

that's where she died
that's where she
lives

Monday, 30 July 2018

de.celebrated

Most rock stars walk the memory back to the days when every concert was hard pressed and hard won, when they knew personally every groupie and went afterpartying with the club, fresh cuts on their lips. When gigs were dive bars, audiences unpredictable if not hostile, and pay came in the form of an open tab. When a station wagon full of amps needed a jump. The simple luxuries on the road. A bitter loaf of bread and one night stand. A pan full of eggs and bacon. Walls dressed in hard wood. The percolating coffee pot to ringing ears. Crazy laughter after what just happened? Most rock stars dream of such beginnings. Through the gold-plated bars of today's high hung song bird cage. Awash in stale hits. Buried in mountains of paperwork. Studying the tax codes. Dining with divorce lawyers. Oh, how a dream can turn back on itself. 

cities

all the forms brought all
their shadows upon the parks
and fountains

the forms themselves rarely
crossed the line unless
toppled

sometimes
weather systems forced them
to huddle together and
blend

they did so
reluctantly

for the shadows of the forms
made new cities

so heavy
were they

the homeless
lived there
on a currency of wine
and blankets

in the forms shadows
made

Wednesday, 25 July 2018

therapy styles by k

let's throw some light on the relationship between thoughts and feelings and behaviors. how i feel about a situation reflects my values. if i express pain because i am lonely, then i will ask myself, do i value friendship? this is absent but implicit. if i feel useless when unemployed, is not the underlying message that i value working hard? feelings can help me connect with myself and others. when i am upset and i show it, people may become more invested in helping. when i cry or vent my anger, it's a release and i feel alive. the thoughts which color my feelings are not always facts. feelings are not facts because the thoughts behind them are colored in by attitudes and beliefs and assumptions. if i can increase my awareness of my automatic thoughts, patterns of belief systems i inherited from my family will begin to reveal themselves. i was embedded within a family system. the family developed its own coping strategies within the greater community, manifesting in thoughts and behaviors. what i was taught then may or may not be of use to me today, and may even get in the way of my health and happiness. i can give myself a chance to discard the useless, irrational, ineffective ways of being, and evolve into more fruitful ways of being. this can free me up to be playful and respond to the world differently, lessen my inhibitions and make healthier choices.

Tuesday, 24 July 2018

jack

half of all i did ended with someone else's song on my lips and a bottle of jack in my hands. hemingway went fisherman mad in the end. old man and the sea. im american too and write my own life down.  not all that well traveled and gave up on dionysus. my rebirth wasn't pretty. i sing my own sad songs to a can of orangina. fall for pulp and fiction. author, editor, publisher, marketer, designer. that's my bottleneck now. i cannot give a damn if they like it. I put my heart and soul in it anyway.

shiny horrible new cars

new cars and i would rather keep my old one, it was new 14 years ago, when i still rather kept my old one, when my old one, now, was new

Monday, 23 July 2018

therapy styles by k (describing my practice in words)

alliance. you come with your intention. your concerns. i respect you. you want to work and improve upon your life. i want to help you reach your potential. we begin our journey together. you let me into deeper parts of your psyche. you trust me. i am a professional. i have learned to listen for cues, to help bring unconscious (dreams and symbols and drives) out of the dark and into the light. maybe it's based on a thought process (attitudes and beliefs which shape what you value in your life) you learned in childhood, how you got your needs met then in an environment particular to you and you alone. maybe it's how you feel or associate or dissociate and go numb. i want to ask the right questions. open-ended. to help you explore your inner world. so you can see how your thoughts and feelings and attitudes shape your behavior. to help you see your choices. you don't have to act on impulse again and again. you can pause and consider alternative ways of being. you may resist this, because it's hard work. it can bring up painful memories. things could get worse before they get better. i want to help you through your resistance. i appreciate how you have survived. you are dynamic. ever changing. we are working together to get your blood flowing. you may feel disconnected from yourself. this is existential work. i want you to feel so alive in a modern world of madness which tends to dehumanize us. i want you to feel purposeful and find meaning in life. to empower you. you are doing your best. you are open and trusting and honest. you are willing to change. you are also so human and resistant to change. we all are. it's okay. i am your companion for a while. we have a working relationship. we got this. thank you for coming. for letting me in. let's do this. we got this.

Thursday, 19 July 2018

acrylic.15


acrylic made 4 good makeup
girl when hung on a wall
and bludgeoned by praises

K

stockton boulevard

down an uneven stretch of stockton boulevard in summer, south of sacramento, i came across a classy broken broad, remarkably postured like a runway girl, walking bubblegum pink stilettos, long tan legs up to daisy dukes, a halter top, don't stop, the mechanical boyish stroll, dry heat tempered by a bottle blue parasol angled off her skinny shoulder blade, urban electric milkmaid conjuring the ghost, to the tomb of some unknown soldier

07.19.18

comin together
fallen apart
broken spirit
broken heart

cotton soak
dollar store folk
iphone clone
addicted to
coke

city spatial
interracial
summer storm
form by
form

bus exhausted
paper chasin
spirits deadbolt
doors

find a window
look outside
thank god 4
a home

Wednesday, 18 July 2018

idiot

was an idiot on
the road takin up
two lanes stepped
down from a ford
truck to deliver
fists on a prius
stopped behind
him

what are you doing
out on the road
with your rage
idiot

you gonna
get hit by a
car

Tuesday, 17 July 2018

upon waking

concede unto the hour
up and take the day
like the thirsty flower
submit

pray

Monday, 16 July 2018

fashion a life

life wore us
in and not out

we had answers 
to questions
asked many years
before

all was repeated
the obvious
restated

and feel sure
about
ourselves

life wore us
out

in and
out

rose self.y quartz

you coulda been living in a car
you were and
who cared you disappeared off
the lips with a
prayer

rose quartz
the quality to express
you

a pale of having been purified
by trial

only accomplished in
those the world gave
away


Saturday, 14 July 2018

anti.social

Several years had passed and talking to others became refreshing and I was drawn off my guard. I could hold a dialogue with you, maybe withstand an argument. Then I could look into your eyes without losing my train of thought. Then you wouldn't mistake me for dishonest. My skin became a millimeter thicker and I wasn't so cold at night. Then I was not so sensitive to things you said. My social norm restoration experiment was paying off. Life was less a collection of used parts and problems I wished would only die away. Engagement became rewarding if not organic. I set my clock to the frequency of several functions a day. I demanded no less than I show up. Not every meeting was reciprocated, and not all of those that were, bore fruit. I found only one good conversation a day (face to face) was enough to keep my finger on the pulse of culture.

Friday, 13 July 2018

pattaya 2007

I remember when I looked emaciated like those boys trapped on Pattaya beach in the Thai cave licking the limestone walls. My life driven by anger and fear took me there in my twenties and again in my thirties. I was in certain darkness and could not get out. My heartbeat slowed by pulses of heat and  flashes of pain. I was so lonely and surrounded by loners like me. I thought it was me against the world, and it was. Me against the world and me against myself. You cannot live long that way, and you cannot live that stance forever. Some die young. I had to make a full turn. I was wounded needing love. I was hateful needing peace. Fire needing water. Impulsive needing patience. Selfish needing out. Needing meaning, needing work. Needing a meaningful relationship to myself and others. A devotion to a spiritually seeded cause. All life is like mine. I had to humble myself and see the universe in me. Cool my jets and stop taking off, running away. Stay. I had to stay and breathe into it. All life can be renewed. All life is like that, yours and mine, all life is valuable. We need you.

Thursday, 12 July 2018

fields. thursday

you brought me a fortune from a cookie. it was dawn and I scratched your back. you stood on my chest where I could admire you. you swished your tail. the sky outside began with orange. a hot summer day ahead. we live in the valley by the air field. i can hear the engines fire and props slice up the sky. we are living, we are loved. magnetic fields cannot resist us. 

÷÷ blue lady ÷÷

she may have been depressed but she was not sad she hid in the mountainside when the rains came hard like tropical noon. she once was tranquil now a monsoon. the blue lady was downcast from time to time and only we were lucky to catch her swollen tears in our banks. we  irrigate our lands and feed our children for to carry on and on and on and on...

÷÷this post was inspired by the painting  the blue lady by Tameeka Knox, an artist from Sacramento.÷÷

Tuesday, 10 July 2018

rebel ina safe

i keep my rebellion
under lock and key

i sign it out
on tuesdays
by photo id

twice as nice

once upon a cloud
feeling rather proud
all accounts break even
children awful loud

you cracked the piggy open
eyes as wide as coins
the exclamation spoken
iowa! des moines

a hundred silver dollars
in bed with porcelain
you lifted up your collar
to hide the widest grin

each child given two
and told not what to do
one was twice as nice
another not a clue

what remained then was invested
in reclamation of
the sky

to turn her
back from black
to blue

Sunday, 8 July 2018

descent

descend from your high flying escalade. descend from your earned letters and titles and surname. acknowledge you have never gone a week without food. a month without shelter. 60 days without love or care of some kind. acknowledge your privilege.

descend and be
decent.

meditation no.12

how sitting still can help you. cultivates patience. attends to your processes. you begin to be able to feel yourself breathing. see yourself thinking. experience your muscles tense and relaxing. form relationships with your emotions. fortify your philosophy. it is not  wrong or right. it is effective or ineffective. variations on usefulness lead to fresh choices. meditation empowers you. see how you view situations and challenges. how you react. reflect upon a stale way of being. life is all changes. you are born to adapt. recreate yourself so you can be most helpful to the world you live in. most useful. roll your sparkling super self out and give thanks, now! we need you.

Friday, 6 July 2018

yankee

dawn has struck
the sky is turning colors
the last bit of dynamite
blown. shredded paper
tumbles aimless on the breath
of passing cars

what will we
do now

Thursday, 5 July 2018

love was

love was often pushy
to get you on your feet
love was often bitter
before it could be
sweet

Wednesday, 4 July 2018

bye bye 4th of july

settlers of land
painted faces and hair
nationalist fervor
fireworks stare

bye bye
bye bye

parading at night
smoke and bright light
cut through the forests
river of white

bye bye
bye bye

river of red
river of blue
fourth of july
goodbye

fare the well
stars by stripes
fifty two gun
salute

revolutionary snares
the flute

bye bye
world wars
peaceful sweet sandy
shores

bye bye

tricks are for kids

stepping across the honeycomb of the mind i found a little home what was windowpaned in amber, encased by five walls of durable paper, gone gray. words were written there. i tried to make them out. i saw by the script they were my words. now it became a message from my past self i had to decipher. ten years old i was mostly lucky, and happy. i learned ways to deceive myself when i was sad. now i would and could not. i have to be real. tricks are for kids.

Monday, 2 July 2018

morning.noon.night

i lit three candles. morning, noon and night. fox trot of the forest. lovely shadow. light. the world was like an ocean. self-contained in atmosphere. i heard you by your dialect. to see you out of sight.

star made

star made of matter
star beyond ice
all the hearts feeling
tumble through space
like numbers chase
paint off the
dice

Saturday, 30 June 2018

July

tiles hold the sun. skin absorbs the heat. there are patterns in the floors but only the colors make any sense to me. i cannot feel a pattern. i can only hear the music in the colors. i only feel the sun inside my feet. i am july. on my hands and knees. i am not enough without the sun. on my belly. laughing into the pores of earth.

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 big mistakes. we are reckless. learning how to live.

today the pearls are strung twice around your neck. turkish coffee drips into ceramic, sheltered inside your hands. nails translucent like newborn sea shells. all that ever happened in your eyes.

en scene 3

fire up a fresh pot. 1950. New York City. nothing's changed. detectives shaking down girlfriends. all units. five boroughs. chasing leads.

en scene 2

burlesque. 1950. Los Angeles. unrequited love. lipstick smeared on a hopeless heart. betrayal.

en scene 1

stolen car. desperate men. 1950. conspire for quick cash. chicago. there will be blood.

searching for (and finding) meaning!

searching became seeking on an otherwise atypical weekend. seeking became leaking when the sought after was found and overflowed the fullness. leaking became luck when it just so happened the collection was rare and appreciated behind glass by the mass. luck became suck when the interactivity failed to give a deep felt sense of belonging the masses hoped for and needed. suck became destruction when the place got torn apart in a collective rage. destruction became relief when they all realized how connected they were by their anger. relief became regret when they witnessed the damage they did and the collection was ruined and history would miss out completely. regret was not set in stone. regret was reformed by the mission. the mission was to get up every day and pray to get out there and be helpful some way to someone in need. and not just to pray. the mission was getting up after prayer. the mission was showing yourself. showing up. making molehills out of mountains. standing courageously on an edge. jumping into life. making meaning where otherwise there was none. 

Friday, 29 June 2018

end week end

i do not want what the world wants for me. begin week, begin. go and be with the world. find out why you exist. for beyond yourself lies joyfulness. within yourself peace of mind. one is unreal. one is real. end week, end.

Thursday, 28 June 2018

journal 28

come out of your shell electric. do not your self redact it. expand! you need not be contracted. nor smudged, erased, subtracted. walk past the pails with what the water boil. pour over now and penetrate the soil. coffee grounds for celebration. show up to work nonconforming. refuse to leave! we need you.

dream of a loss

i just now woke from a nightmare whereby my keys were lost or stolen. my friend sarah who i havent seen in a decade was the only bright aspect to the dream. she was helping me. taking me to some lesser known city resource where hopelessness ends.

we were waiting in line when i woke up. the stress melted out of my mind and body like a pad of butter in a pan. the birds the sun and the cats preceded me to consciousness. a couple hours before work. how terrible a feeling, to lose anything so important to you.

Wednesday, 27 June 2018

un.friend?

they streamline their friends like an org making layoffs. they do not for a second bother with how it could feel to be unfriended. you thought you were enough of a companion to be allowed in the sacred space of reposts and detritus like body shaming humor and emoticon hell. you thought saying happy birthday on their birthday in 2015 made a fair enough splash on the double helix steam. there are no goodbyes online anymore. put on an old beatles record and howl at the moon. find twenty new friends to replace them by noon.

i saw a dragon

you cannot tell me there
are no dragons i
saw one

Tuesday, 26 June 2018

axis

you were my horizon
i was vertical
blind

crossing the ocean
without a plotted
course

you were solid fixed
i was fitted. the
waves and sheets the
sun and salt

nevermind

it's not our fault
the night is disobedient
the suspension
bridge of light

you
gave me my
life

scarred
out of sight
blind

nevermind
we are like kids
we are all
right

Monday, 25 June 2018

cuts.dashes

the group became tighter. careful about who they let in and who they let out. ritualistic. some wanted in but could not get in. some wanted out but could not get out. those who died were revered. 

traffic berry jam

traffic berry jam
on the razor edge 
of love

hot with thoughts 
we got blown 
on highway five 
of tire

filament shrapnel float 
dribbles off the lips

cresting to burst 
slide down the glassy 
eyes 

lazy wander the figured 
thighs to a base
metal 

i am stolen
you could score with me

traffic berry jam
on the razor edge
of love

all and none

the tireless work begun
the shadow cast by the wrecking
ball was tall and long
long and tall

the glass shattered
the bricks did fall
only memory withstood
the assault

we were still under
the sun

all had changed 
and none

Friday, 22 June 2018

undone

you can do what's undone. other things are out of your power. what is done you cannot undo. what a gift to be able to stay calm when you are subjected to great pressures and unable to manage. what a talent to quietly go about your work. what a blessing you are when you reach your potential. don't give up. we need you.

Tuesday, 19 June 2018

rose quartz

you coulda been living in a car and who cared? you disappeared off the lips with a prayer. rose quartz the quality to express you. a pale of having been purified by trial. only accomplished in those the world gave away.

greenblue

goodbye sweet moment
lying in the light of a summer morning
California
readying myself for whatever highs and lows the day may bring. making conscious contact. watching my kittens thirst by their eyes for the birds. drawing back the peaks of audio. tails move side to side with the eyes
these eyes are emerald
these eyes are amber
mine are greenblue...
sending this message to space

Sunday, 17 June 2018

5.5.5

Five were the aerial views of the heart. Valves played and polished like horns. Sound bounces off points to show form. An audio track. The history of the world. Ten were the arteries full of light and uncontained. See the narrative of the world bubble up from undersea. Liquid. Seamless. Without end. Fifteen were the compressions. Before and after life. Unstudied. Immeasurable. Wild. Unknown.

Saturday, 16 June 2018

(self)

the effect the world has on me thickens my skin. i become less vulnerable while trying hard not to be completely insensitive. i wanna be able to feel cuz you gotta feel, to feel alive. like anyone i wanna feel safe. a thick skin can protect. like trusted family and friends. deadbolted doors.

there is something juicy at the core of you. something sacred and true that the world cannot corrupt. you can share this with them. they can see it in your eyes. they may get under your skin. you can learn to protect your sacred self. and offer it with those who are deserving.

kindness and compassion make for the best tasting fruit. the ability to see behind personalities is a great gift few have. those who have or develop this capacity are often smiling or less fearful walking the world. for they realize that even the hardest among us have a sweetness deep inside.

what was given us

the colorless moments of stressed inhibition. must i be always backed into a corner before i come fighting? a sea of bad news and brake lights ahead. even tears and smiles were a stretch.

then, from that place of half flag summer fatigue, arose a current from the far east. 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 and it was personal. it was yours. it was mine.

express

I wanna be locked in and deliver you the greatest highlights of life, blown out in cursive, bonded by word, trailing our infinite press.

Wednesday, 13 June 2018

true 3

I like anyone am visited by self doubt when basic elements transition. In the past six months my treasured routines were threatened. I was displaced from both home and office. The faces around me were new. The structures and locations. The disorganization. I turned to prayer and my people for help. I asked questions. I felt at times I was doomed! Thankfully, fears and feelings are not facts. I made it! Now some spirit returns. My practices I have fought so hard to build and keep are ready and waiting to be employed. I have proven myself capable once again. I need only follow my heart back to the book.

true two

i reinvented myself in motion yet stillness was my hallmark. i used to stare into the eyes of hurricanes until they closed. now i am underneath them, plotting a course for open ocean. still they settle into land by choice and suicide.

i wonder how i survive the oppositions. chaos wants me for my calm. the depressions look to me for uplift. they both know i have survived them. i have survived my self. know me for family. for i have lived there, too.

true 1

this is not all we know. below the coffee grounds. above the traffic jam. beneath the chirping devices there is a deeper space we may go.

this is not all we know
so go
my child 
go

this is not all we are
so be
my child
be

Tuesday, 12 June 2018

couldn't stand the summer

trapped by heat. the relentless wave of sun. gimme a lemon ginger ale on ice. my mind in a prism. my thoughts burn through me like sea salt. the machines and engines double down like doom. throw me in a swimming pool. turn the sky to liquid falling down. cool rain reaches demigod status in the valley. leaking antifreeze side by fields. rivers are  the queens. sacks of ice pulled down from freezer doors to fracture on the tile. night sails in like allies freeing paris circa 1945.

snapchat sensation

you read the lips of a dyslexicon backwards up against the mirror this evening. they told you books are dead. you found life there in a raindrop bead you rehydrated by a cry. your therapist shouldered insulin in tweed. the sugar cube came with a business card and why? because you were in pain. unheard, unseen. now the plant is watered, turning green. unlock the doors. remove the screen. jump out into an earth sky. don't forget your no name sneakers.

Sunday, 10 June 2018

may be nihilism

i am finding variations on life, between or within days. may be love i experience or pain. may be a cold environment follows the friendly calm of tonight. nestled in my domain listening to chimes and fans beneath the weight of interstellar nihilism. the cat cries out for no reason and breaks my sleep. now I know between these temples. Coca-Cola. the red can got the better of me. my systems shot like nerves were years ago. I cannot hide. never again.

may you

may you see depression before it sees you. the black of the eye does not stop the eye from seeing. find your light and go there while you can. bathe in it. expand it. let others freely in...depression cannot stand you.

Friday, 1 June 2018

may sometime five

relocating yourself is hard. i was all wound up and so tightly there was no room for a catch, twenty two, or a finger to inch its way between the string and the spool. the risk was decapitation of an innocent digit, say number two, flat on the ground without its curly-q. the tale had a tail. i saw the end of it, too. it was bushy like a cat's just washed, having dried. the cat was my tiger approaching me now on the bed, after another long night moving more stuff from point a to point b. all crying in his cage earlier, soaking wet. feeling scared and mistreated. now it was long after my usual bedtime and i was the one hurt and crying after the longest of days. finally lying down @ point b. suddenly letting go. the wind took the kite and all, pulling the spool and the string right out of my hand. now we are free. my tiger and his brother approach me. blondie comes up and nestles his head under my ribs. his brother, bunny, settles down on the blanket by my feet. these are the only kids i have. i am suddenly unwound and so happy. the breeze draws in from the window. we are home. we are flying.

Thursday, 31 May 2018

may sometime four

All I own I cleaned and placed in boxes, and may leave in boxes, crowding the walls around the central space. There lies my great wooden desk, small but solid, I take with me wherever I go. All the way back to 1998. There lies my intention to write my books. The tv got the last of invitations. I may not open the door. When I die someone oughta cut my desk down and bury me in it. Together may we be, repurposed.

may sometime three

I believe it is good to be part of what is to come. Always a change. When you become it, staying exactly with it, they see you embody a movement and you can be credited, thus, you are the movement. This is not without dangers. You may rise and fall. You may lose yourself somewhat. They may disinherit you when the fashions change. I tend to shy from movements which are both conscious and public. I may identify with some, partways...yet I like to create space and step aside into it. I prefer my own rhythms. My own movement. Yet even personality is perilous. Life will go on so become.

may sometime two

I told you what she said to me and then I felt hurt again, yesterday all over me. I faltered and began to cry. You were my witness. All night I was on knees and hands, scrubbing the place I called home for 5 years. When I finished it was dawn.  I hardly got any sleep. Life pulls me along. Today I am the broken tree lying in pieces in the parking lot. I will surrender the keys.

may sometime one

Wind beats around the heads of palm trees above me. Kids flirt with chlorine in this concrete pool. What a violet sky. What a chemical mess.

Saturday, 26 May 2018

mack truck

i was making my way down a particularly dicey part of highway number 5. in a hatchback, black. in a single lane slowpoke being invaded on either side. half the heads i saw were looking back at me from the road. not a good sign in a sea of choppy brake lights. my lane was more compressed than the sacramento real estate rental market and the hottest around. you coulda sold space and got rich in a sec, without thinking. the overpasses left heavy eyeliner inside the shadow of downtown, highlighted by the glass of a thousand former accidents. the exit for Q street was coming up like the question i was asking myself: should i get off this bad trip before i make history? and for all the wrong reasons. sometimes a single choice can save your life. it would take me way off my timing, was the con. i kept my course. i could reach out and touch the rushed commuters, encased in their steel murder machines. i jedi mind tricked myself into a crosswalk mentality, like those white lines meant anything to protect us. i turned up my radio and let down the windows. i threw fear into the wind as i shifted into third. kept my eyes on the tail of a wandering june bug with dual exhaust. all seemed well. then the mack truck came screeching down my left flank and almost pinioned a subaru dead stopped by the weavers, all running interference. i saw the giant wheels roll by and they were smoking. taller than my car! melting rubber for a living! suddenly my world could fit inside a hot wheel. i could read the writing. on the sidewall.

Saturday, 19 May 2018

k and k

baseball cap on
backwards
tomboy
bad news
the original
skinny
acidwash
jeans
tore up old
self. like usual

a taller you
a bad hair day
no bra. ya
wool cap
spinning around a
middle
finger
scratcher bingo by
a switchblade
gettin’ high

wow
twenty ten
just look at us
then
the madness
the sadness
followed us
haunted us
still i long to
remember


the way you
touched me
gave me
chills
weight of an eighty
impala beneath us

reading our poems
aloud and again
the fortune of
finding a
friend
oh why
oh why
did it all
have to
end



katya mills © 2018

Friday, 18 May 2018

pulse @ 39

The medical tech excused herself to speak with her supervisor. She hid her worry rather well. I was in a gown after an EKG. I had a paperback in hand, from the donated library in the waiting room. This happened almost every time. I was once living at high speeds. Sleepless nights. Racing around to no end. Years ago I exited my madness. Since then life has been something to cherish in slow motion. Few sudden surprises. When I saw her, she looked relieved. I asked her the number. Today my pulse chimes in @ 39.

kids (life as lab)

When I was a kid I witnessed attributes and played with them. I wanted to know what would happen when I behaved a certain way. This was life as laboratory. I tried lying and got caught. I tried being super nice to people I didn't know. I tried bullying, after I myself was bullied. I tried kissing my friends (with their consent). I tried doing chores without being asked. I tried fighting with fists. I tried reading a book from beginning to end without stopping.
If an adult caught me experimenting this way, I would often be earmarked from that moment forward based on my behavior. This was called judgment and came very easy to them. I learned not to trust adults very well.

hide behind umbrella

you can try and hide behind umbrella. you can hide behind your interpretation of the law. you can hide inside your home behind your money and your discourse. you can call for law enforcement. do not be surprised when they pull you out from cozy privilege and imprison you. restricting your arms at the wrists. rolling your fingertips in ink. will you smile for the camera? will you represent your vitriol? will you miss your mocha cappuccino reserve and high castle office? the fawning gucci assistants shredding papers, who you undress with your eyes, leaning back in your chair while stroking your gold-weighted pen?

Thursday, 17 May 2018

painted fences

i was moody i was ready i was running through a field. i was young i was adventurous 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 down.

we live like birds

you get a key and a room
of your own in a small city

what a feeling
you can make a whole world
all to yourself

you can read books
you can play guitar
you can write books
and songs with
friends

you have an address
you live there
wow

rescue some kittens
and raise them

life can be really very nice
for some years and then
one day things change

they tell you
you gotta go

we live like birds

may 17

when you have someone who means the world to you and you are related by blood and you have no history of ever doing one another harm, you have about the best thing going in this life. be grateful. reach out to them if you can. talk to them.

Saturday, 12 May 2018

kiss the smoking girl

you think faster than you write and can your memory keep (you) up, when the days fall off like calendar paper painted numerics in a spotted corner where a pay phone once connected the disconnected? relegate your dreams to a political sideshow. the overthrow of nickels by dimes and half dollars in a strip club awaits. she leaves you drunk and singing. your oldsmobile won't start up in the cold. you don't care. shove your hands in your overcoat and walk off. watch your breath. smells like midwest. something different the day has for you. bread factory. maybe a motel room. cartoons. a new friend as tore up as you are. laughing against a socieconomic slider. anything but a tow truck and another bill to sign. buy a pint of whisky. postpone the inevitable. kiss the smoking girl.

Friday, 11 May 2018

everyone needs an anchor

I am troubled for my book. I want an anchor to hold and keep her from dashing upon the rocks. There's been time and room to navigate these challenges, to circle and play, to figure eight, collide the waves. The surface stretches out like a canvas. I have numbers to make sense of it. I have broken her into lines.

Now it is late and the wind picking up. All must be sealed and lashed for the night. To withstand the harshest critique. She has to hold.

Thursday, 10 May 2018

oath of allegiance ina bath of silence

maybe i read too much shakespeare in high school. maybe i drank too much coke. i kept to myself with a few close friends. i made a pilgrimage to faulkner. i kept writing and writing though it seemed pointless at times, as there was no internet to share. i read my work in bars and cafes, in chicago and tampa in the late nineties, behind a highball whisky. maybe i smoked too much pot. i carried a leatherbound journal wherever i went. now i have a cell phone and press words in there. life is the same, although it changes. i may be getting older but i'm still young. maybe i watched too much tv. i will always love to ride trains, even subways. i take a bath of silence every morning. and an oath of allegiance to my creative process. i am very well, the way i live. but i went about things so poorly for so long, it still hurts. i blame myself for the blunders i made. i am also unwell. mostly for having hurt you. i hurt myself badly, too.

book.in.progress

i printed and read the latest draft of my book. the story holds together well. all is grammatically sound. i have spot checked for repetitions. what i studied this time around is how my story changes my mood from page to page. there's quite a bit of desperation in the lives of my characters. inevitably they find one another and find their way. well, not everybody. some of the mood flows alongside an adrenaline rush. some of the feelings get flooded. i wanna let the sun into some of the darker places. this is my hope as i continue on with my work. it's exciting. i think about the book all the time now.

Tuesday, 8 May 2018

45

i found that when i slept for exactly six hours, my body and mind woke up rested and ready for the day. however, if i did not rise then and decided to sleep another hour, i had dreams and awoke feeling tired. forty-five years old and i am still learning how to sleep and when to rise! there is no work you cannot do when you are rested. so take your rest and do not be so busy for so long.

Monday, 7 May 2018

partly sunny good chance for showers without you

i can say i have been honest with you, but my words sit on the hands of the clock, beside the point. the point is a solitary entry. markedly confident, rather lonely. a circle to itself. a hole in the moon. a vacancy. divided from the rest. full of its own opinion. terminally unique. you cannot know you can trust me, until you know you can trust someone. all the greatest liars in the world would have you believe they are abe lincoln honest. i miss you. it's partly sunny here. good chance for showers without you.

leniency of space

i wrapped my mind around a tree, i fell on a bent knee, all my thoughts were illogical, disorganized, scattered within a quarter mile radius of me. i would have to grow the circumference somehow to find some leniency of space. there were harleys, semis, and el caminos blasting through the place. i got tickled by the pavement, sandblasted in the face. i finally had enough. i stood up proud and centered myself, and left my thoughts beneath me. i walked into the middle of this four lane highway crossing a fourteen county spread. all the cars and trucks agreed to stop for me and the gray rabbit, the brown frog, the yellow duck, and the unnamed holy one. when the engines all cut out, we came to understand. we are all in this thing, together.

inside the margins

i got to wake up
outside the margins
where they chose
not to see me
the way I saw
myself

they preferred
not to see me
at all

blue the color of
the blood survived the suburbs
on meatloaf and
microwave popcorn

you spend a quality lifetime
with yourself. you know who you are

 latchkey
circles the neck

yet they suggest or imagine you
fit into an image they fashioned

i don't play inside the margins
i am no cookie to be cut

sitcom ina tv
cherry ina bonbon
chardonnay
ina box
ina fridge

to be seen is
my right
 if not
the law

Friday, 4 May 2018

singing @ alphabet

when all seems lost i look for four walls, some light, a wooden floor, my kittens, a wooden desk, my machine which connects me to the universe. when all seems lost i eat a salad, read a book. i lie to myself that everything will be okay. i get outdoors and stare at the sky. i go to work and get sucked inside office politics. i cherish everyone, especially the ones i least like. when all seems lost, i talk to my friend whose a painter. or another writer. or someone who cannot sing the alphabet. i try not to think. maybe i pray. all may be lost. i write a book about it. all is lost. i don't care. all is lost.

Thursday, 3 May 2018

channel

i found myself purposed to be an instrument of some constituent pie charted and marketed and television saturated and worked, yes, worked, worked to the marrow to grow some boundless fruitless profit margin i would never see nor feel nor benefit from :: i found myself channeled to evolve our nation, grow her right off the fucking map, people, not unlike the old English empire. less colonialism. more physical land. smaller navy.

i found myself
and decided not
to participate
whatsoever
drama by katya

Wednesday, 2 May 2018

say

you are the new kid 
you work from within the system
you paint the walls in there some deeper colors
when the system changes you feel
a great sense of pride and ownership
you are local now

say

a new kid appears
they want to paint the walls
you resist. you worked so hard to paint them
they don't know what it was like before
they don't care
you care about different things

say

change is hard

her name was mom

the universe gave me life and no promises. the universe put me in a cell in a womb and i grew into a tiny body. hormones and organs and limbs developed. a dangerous mind came of a brain. i got too big for my apartment and, though i would have stayed, the landlady evicted me. her name was mom. i went out kicking and screaming, attached like an astronaut by a cord, into space. they cut the cord and let me float. they slapped me and put me in a basket. i escaped by sleeping. my dreaming body had yet to emerge so i slept peacefully until waking. mom took me home with some guy they called dad. there was even a little guy who was called big brother. i was scared and i waited a long time before opening my eyes. when i did i saw a world and mom was in it, so that made me happy. i tried to bargain with her but we did not speak the same language. so i had to wait. the applesauce tasted pretty good but the blended vegetables were god awful. the only way i survived was looking deep into moms eyes when i had to be awake. the world was cold and i was in it, against my will.