Friday, 30 March 2018

question (mark)

no matter what i think i know, i still make a question in my mind. i like to turn it upside down and climb upon the hovering moon fixed above the mark. then look out over the scene and make myself curious, if already i am not. then when i am ready, shut my eyes and jump off.

faith.2018

May you not be fearful today. Even were our worlds enveloped in dark matter and shut out from the sun. Come close, feel the life as it breaks in my voice. We will stay warm by the light we cannot see but on faith, in our eyes. 
- katya

Wednesday, 28 March 2018

killer -vii

how powerless
modern life has made us
giving us all that we want

we take up guns
and knives and
our personal
weapons of mass
destruction

so we
RAN
to the
NRA

for caliber
for freedom
to bear arms
to feel powerful
in the face of
burglary
assault
accosted
by fear

and what has become
of us?

consumers
victims

hunters
hunted
how

powerless

overanalysis alice

i had fallen and where i fell
gave way to my falling deeper and
further than i had fallen before

not even the ground wished
to break me when her voice
echoed down from a height

you can stop right there! 
you must have no fear!

underanalysis alice
overlooking the situation 
from above. gleefully
ignorant

 i was still falling
alongside her lies

not even cleavage city 
could make up for her
intolerable delivery

the lack of depth
(would be my final)
perception

backbone

The undertrodden emanated their working-class, fourth world-conditioned, immigration-legislated soul ache with great-but-silenced lamentations, all of which gathered into a spine of neurotic knots that together once formed the backbone of the greatest economic powerhouse this side of the free worldthough hardly a footnote in the credits.


be fierce. scapegoat

Dispassionately you were chosen and not for the content of your character. A pawn in somebody's game, only the game was life. Gunpowder they packed beneath you while you were sleeping. They didn't care you were real. And when they blew you to smithereens, they discovered they were the ones who were dying, inside. 

Pretty soon you would recognize the injustice, when you got done crying and feeling bad about it all. You awaken from the nightmare to realize that though your feelings were hurt, your true character was undamaged. You were whole. Your real friends came over with donuts and coffee, and knives to throw at the wall. And you tore it up together like always before, hanging out like nothing had happened. 

Stashed in a pocket of pixels deep in your eyes, the memory remained, to remind you of human nature and how awful they can be. So you can keep yourself safe and be fierce when your character may be called into question. And when you see the injustice being concocted against others, you look out for them. You warn and defend them the best that you can, recalling how it happened to you. Always realizing, in the end, the dirt will come out in the wash. 

Tuesday, 27 March 2018

I was sadness

I was sadness
I could not beat the dust back
I could not keep a friend

Sorrowful sorrowful
Sadness

Even I would leave you
In the end

Saturday, 24 March 2018

sleepy

when I'm feelin sleepy
I like to go to bed
say a little prayer
rest my weary head 

the days are long and tiresome now
my life is very full
I rarely feel a lacking
or have the time to kill

there are a few who love me
I do have what I need
I try real hard to turn my words
Into the honest deed

tomorrow's coming soon
royal with persuasion
tonight I pray my dreams withstand 
all imagination

Thursday, 22 March 2018

latest book review on goodreads

Isabelle's Reviews > Girl Without Borders

 
by 
20981047
's review 
Mar 20, 2018

really liked it

No, I will not spoil it but I will say this: I thought It was a great girl book! Its real nice to sit out and have a girl-friend book with you.
 ∙ flag

high school fight

cigarettes and cars 
we glisten in the mud

smoking
laughing
chasing

whatever are we waiting for 
nothing

we blast our heavy metals
from our beater cars

much better than
home this nowhere here
good as anywhere

we
eternal youth
hopin' on some thrills

if the fight don't happen
donuts in the mud
can't hurt

whatever we are doing
making out
all right

picking each
other up
we have fun
doing it

Tuesday, 20 March 2018

Monday, 19 March 2018

miss empty head with ice in her veins

i was walkin along mindin my own
and i came across a cat on the sidewalk

then a dog
then a man
then a woman
then a bird

then a sign was calling out to me
my head was empty
my mind was free

i was feeling very well

they looked at me funny
the man the woman the dog the bird the cat
they took me to the hospital

there were tired calm faces
with letters behind their names
they urged me to sign papers
they asked for identification

they led me a room
and put me in a machine
then i would wait
in a soft dressing gown
without a back

the air was cool but not too cool
i was empty and free
nothing could bother me

they seeemed worried
they pointed to a transparency
with an image of my skull

inside there was nothing

there was nothing
inside

i was feeling very well
indeed when i snuck out
for a candy bar

made

my thoughts turn with the wind as i reach around the planet, unseen, kept close to land and water by gravity and pressure, unseen. my spirit i infuse. and i am openly in secret, yours, i am openly, in secret, together we face the world with all her feelings, we are touched

recollect

Last night I watched a film took place 3 years before I was conceived in a city located a 3 hour drive from where I was born, and began crying and you comforted me...I recollect so much of my life as it were. I even see where I went astray. But mostly I feel homesick like how life can never be like it was, back then.

Sunday, 18 March 2018

un.music

The diet oversaturated in music, I reduced  my consumption substantially. Finding inner rhythms. Now there is a symphony looking for the back of my teeth, guided by the light in between so many keys. I only hope it makes it out.

consistency

i am crayon
they don't take me serious
only kids believe
i am colorful
misunderstood
i doubt that i
will last

crisis of an overcast

the sun wanted to reach

the land
the sea
the beach

the sky asked why
the sun beseeched

a child would smile
a flower now open
the dullest of days
so very outspoken

for a second
it all opened up

the blue
was a much deeper
blue

Saturday, 17 March 2018

morning hustle

this morning they are hoping for some change standing outside the seven elevens the circle k's the am pm's, shifting and huddled and made it through the night. maybe a coffee and a biscuit if you can. a word or a sign or a forlorn face to get a couple quarters. sometimes a hard silence and barefoot says enough. a little kid who cares asks his mommy can we help that one over there? some small gratitude, hot liquid behind paper, warms the hands and face, expressions melt into a blank stare. worries momentarily at bay. eyes open to the day. find your hustle or your doomed. 

Friday, 16 March 2018

the day I married an idea

I could not fall to sleep last night for some time. Someone was planning a wedding through my window. I wanted to keep the window open so i could listen to the rain. It doesn't rain much in the central valley and I grew up in New England where it rains all the time. A couple of the girls were mean, drunk and loud. Why would you want cousin Elle there? Cross her off the list, she's nobody to you. Tell her she can come to the reception if she wants to see you so badly! This is your day, not hers. It wasn't a stretch to believe that people could be so cruel in the service of loyalty to the bride. I thought it best to forego my future of sweet falling rain and shut the window. There would be no bells and confetti or Dionysian charm, still, you could say I got married to the idea.

Sunday, 11 March 2018

governor in a mansion

Today we went out for a walk and passed the governor's mansion which is not far from the state capitol and midtown, where I live. We looked up and into the highest windows to rooms visible in daylight and I fantasized aloud oh wouldn't it be lovely if we saw him there today? This routine I go through every time with you, I think, since I discovered last year that Jerry Brown would be reclaiming the mansion for a residence. No governor has lived there for decades, and Governor Brown is the only governor of California I have been fond of, since I moved here from Chicago fifteen years ago. He's probably out of town, fighting Trump over the sanctuary laws somewhere, you reasoned. That's when my wandering eyes caught movement down by the porch, and a figure was stepping down toward the drive, then concealed. I cried out there's someone there! What if it's...? We both followed the iron rail a few yards and saw the black SUV and the bodyguard and...and... by golly there he is! You said. I was spellbound and could not speak. You called out Mr. Brown! Hey Jerry! Down with Trump! A smile came over the bodyguards face, and the governor turned to greet us and waved an arm. Finally I found my tongue and hollered we love you Jerry Brown!

Saturday, 10 March 2018

apple core

this morning i awoke beside you and stretched and growled. you called me tiger and i showed you my claws. the sun was not up yet but we were. i took my meds and fed the cats. we went down the road to the am.pm. we discovered the coffee there is first rate. you got some chocolate chip cookies for breakfast, and i didn't mind. i made a cadillac with half hot chocolate. we aren't that young anymore, but we love to be kids together. maybe that's the core of our apple?

Friday, 9 March 2018

half life of a city bird

I lived high up in a city beech tree in Boston I inherited from my parents. Mom was a red and dad was a black bird. I displayed her colors in tufts, and they say my song pitched like his. I carried her tonality.

I wanted my life to improve but i was scared.The cars and trucks made my home shiver, the city made me feel like mine was the only tree. The pollution and city rats were a real danger, and worms were scarce.

I was scared of change and scared not to change, flipping and ducking my head in my chest. I left early one morning when car alarms would not stop chirping.

 I was sure I was a goner.

I flapped my wings and flew for several suns and moons on end. I knew not where to. Or for. The currents unusual to a little bird like me. I broke and fell, rose and tumbled, and slanted across the sky. Nights I huddled helpless and cold in a rain gutter, dreaming.

When I could go no farther, I found a hollow to a little birdhouse. Abandoned it was. What luck! and a fertile ground below. My nest I created of all the diverse fabrics under the sky, in the moonlight, fortified with lead paint chips while humans slept.

If I may say, I was already a miracle when I learned to transcribe letters dipping my beak in berries.

I wanted to recount and record my travels and knew no other recourse. My beak has not the strength of the woodpecker, and our songs are taken by the wind, so soon they evaporate.

I found words the humans wrote
on bits of paper I made
my nest
with.

I copied the many slender forms by my beak with the berry, and learned which forms coupled off with others and the when and how of it all. I already knew why.

I was already a miracle when I discovered your tongue.

Now half my life story
has been told and I
can rest
with.

It's a lot
for a little bird
like me.

For a little bird
like me
it's a lot.                                            

-- listen to KatYa read this piece @ http://writersontheair.com/ --

Thursday, 8 March 2018

peak experience for a turtle

Mile nineteen of my 50 kilometre ultra run. We had ascended the mountain on switchbacks, deep in the forest beside the American River Canyon on the Western States Trail. About 2,000 vertical feet on single track. Some of the steeper parts I had to hike, but it was no less strenuous than running on the flats or descending. My hands were freezing cold from the wind and rain earlier that morning, and I had brought arm sleeves (the cotton tops I cut from knee socks) which I repurposed for gloves. We had crossed the river a couple of times and the muddy trails were causing runners to slip and fall. Yet here upon the ridge at mile 19, above it all, the trail was paved in pine needles and the sun was beginning to shine. The scene opened up to a fantastic new world! The mountains lush and verdant on the far side of the canyon. A chorus of tree frogs opened up. Then the sky began to hail, and the raindrops froze and bounced off of my skin. I came into a narrow part of the trail ever so slightly ascending, with brush on either side, and I swear it was like a royal flush running through there! The hail had formed crystals all caught up in the treetops and the light was reflecting several ways, glancing  and shining upon us like a dream! I knew then that I had made it. I was not gonna hit the wall like last year, a painful and demoralizing affair. I found myself in the refuge of this peak experience, 5 hours or more into my endurance run. Lucky me. It gave my spirit a burst of feeling uplifted. Now, several days later, I wanted to write it down and share it with you, for it stands out like a gem in my mind.

success! heading home after the race

I learned by the race last year (when I hit a wall at mile 17) not to run the first half too quickly, keep a realistic pace and have patience. I also learned not to change my diet, despite all the yummy offerings at the way stations. These two major lessons, combined with my efforts to load on carbohydrates (90% of my intake) in the 72 hours leading up to the race, gave me ample strength to manage the ascent and finish the race strong. After mile 20 on the Wendell Robie Trail, many of my fellow runners were complaining of dead legs and fatigue and slowing down to walk and enjoy the scenic ridgeline over the canyon. I found myself feeling energized and running fast for a turtle, completing the last 10 miles without stopping, and running close to 10 minute miles on the flats. 

Tuesday, 6 March 2018

super.sub

a tuna sub
a paperback
a drawn tub

a little
slack

what more 
can one 
ask

life is super!

ptsd in me

years back
some awful stuff
i witnessed
i lived

i carry a diagnosis
ptsd

a gang of sensations
still oppress me
from time to time

this inability to feel calm
for days on end. particularly around dreaded
anniversaries

i check the deadbolts
again and again
and still i cannot
feel safe

in my own home
in my own head. even
in the fellowship
of friends

despite the love
of family

i hope they go away
but if they do not
i can be thankful
i survived

katya
2018

did we meet?

sure you came in the room
sure we had a conversation
sure you looked in my eyes
like a story we came to some
conclusion

still
i wanna know
did we really
meet?

Monday, 5 March 2018

algorithm

They siphon the nightmares
out of our dreams
their algorithm snaps
out the hips

untold and unheard
hushed hushed
they are cleaved

the whole town
left sweet and
unreal. we are sieved

by decision
not without derision
the intention
to cover up

the kind
of telling
by minds
of deeds
dark

but it is the truth
they sever
from itself
on a lark

saboteurs
lacking poise
i try my level best to quiet
your noise

the algorithm

so sound
mathematically
executes one-eighty
degree dips
three-sixty degree
flips

swan dives
off the lips

overrun us
day by day
you would

the courageous among us
stood in no poorer shape
at the end

the same
they say
as we were
at the
start

we would die
of a broken
heart

ultra!

k survives another ultra

gaze

long were the days
we suffered the gaze
of an omniscient sun

Sunday, 4 March 2018

killer -vi

the socioeconomic sponges up all my blood so the floor can be polished for the next disenfranchised video game glazed hunting cap dick whose girlfriend refused him a blow job on his 18th birthday to step to the counter with capital one credit and a jaundiced beef jerky soul. cash registers. a semi-automatic. america invests in my demise