story published

 you can read it here... 

https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/09/07/what-it-was-like-to-be-loved-by-katya-mills/

-Katya

nine eight

 faraway laughter. a tuft of melon orange tucked behind the eastern ear. but a memory. what other form will you provoke? an empty glass. a dusty vase. silence speaks of loss and longing well. the sky palimpsest. autumn must be near 

by Katya Mills

story and poem by katya

another flash piece I wrote was published today ... 

https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/08/04/search-engine-by-katya-mills/

a poem I wrote ...

onset schizophrenia

a ginger tail flashed 

by the rocks and a voice called them 

to play. innocently they wandered from neurotypical fields

we can only communicate with them by art

we are as distant to them 

as they seem to us. conversation 

is out

#katyamills 2026

july random writings and stuff

 Darla she dropped out of school and moved to the coast. It's not a crime to want to be happy, she would say. She worked as a cemetery docent and got into crafts. Anything washed up on the shore was fair game. ya. that was how I met Darla.

Descend with one knee
it was the moment she had been waiting for
and her cheeks blushed
when he looked up
it was pain 

it was horror
sweetheart?
yes my love ... yes?
I think ive torn my
meniscus

a dagger of geese ascends above the palpable memory of the dream I'm trying to rub out my eyes. a restaurant. I saw you. Freddy! you looked like you always had. alive! you gave me a colored string to remember by. i tie the baby's tooth around my neck.

1am. a confused looking indigent stands in the road. 

I put on my hazards and get out to help. 

they charge and knock me down 

yelling - look into my eyes! 

Okay. I will... 

2am. I am standing in the road. 

look. look into 

my eyes!

a tailwind threw off the scent. the whole pack looked upon her with benevolence. she somehow outlasted the hunt and made it home. a dog's teeth had torn her ear. the marking rendered an aura of 'do not fuck with me' for years to come

it was her turn a boy made a hold and she stepped up above all the heads rocking out to Mannequin Pussy she fell back laughing and surfed toward the stage

mosswood in the moss pit. punk is more than music it's an attitude it's an expression. its a queer and disturbed and fierce family. its a lifestyle. grateful for everyone who brought us together and John Waters. and a big F-you to the system!

the river set out to conquer the land 

in league with the summer rains 

cresting the earthen walls 

made to contain it

a young woman 

head shaved 

shed her ego on 

the flooded 

plains

by Katya Mills. 2026

story flash

 A story I wrote (300 words) ...

https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/07/06/middle-finger-2-gravity/

by Katya Mills

erotica

 a short story I wrote was published here...

https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/06/19/better-half-of-hen-by-katya-mills/

-Katya

posts 5.23

on a planet 

the color of rose 

we immerse the rows 

in liquid metal 

so not to come 

undone 

in the cold heat 

of absent 

sun 

not want for courage
i am spent from these dealings
the theme lingers
producing images and words
i hope to say or convey
useless i flop on the couch
in the pulsing light
it’s my something sweet
comes with painful
era

the forms spoke 

with intent 

at the pace of earths 

rotation 

the angle 

a bellicosity lent 

casting stark 

shadows upon the moss 

time 

took the rose off 

and left her 

spent 

nevertheless 

malcontent

she made waves she made a lot of enemies speaking her mind she made waves and you don’t always make friends making waves … at least they know you are more than a pulse

athens georgia was chock full of misfits … she hit 3 coffeehouses in 6 hours and they threatened to call security simply because she was asking about a croissant after ten minutes waiting wtf? 

graduates rolling on the grass making out

subdivision two. 3am

fears of perdition troubled the sleep. she turned pages letting the characters affection wash over her

she allowed herself a sugar cookie with oat milk

attended by the creatures of the night

original poetry by Katya Mills 2026

‪Katya Mills‬ ‪@katya444ever.bsky.social‬

collage of posts #5.2.2026

in most cases I would try to name it like anxiety when I was unable to be social. depression when I thought myself 2 lazy 4 not getting up. trauma when the mind went blank for hours... not to lose accountability. to give the self power 2 respond dynamically ... I followed the migration of charging metal beasts in an asphalt line across the desert. this, I thought, cannot interest the lion like the orchestra of calling birds. I became aware of night and day. dichotomous. the one full of mad laughter and moonlight the other working us to death ... the wool of the hungry sheep clearing the fields grew in a lunar pattern. uncompelling gravity. A bell hung from a neck and rang out mercifully in the terrible heat. I sang a little doing the dishes marking up my face boiling the eggs cinching my belt. he followed me everywhere. my kitten. sweet Lolo! if only i could bring those yearning eyes to work - well maybe there is a way? I met a young man. he was fishingfor likes with a click-baited hook at the tech bro block party in his drift machine. dressed to unimpress. it was only Thursday. he would call off Friday without a second thought for his team so to extend the weekend. cuz thats how you do it, he told me... some go off by themselves. pick off a farmer's lamb. tear it apart with the birds. they will hunt until they are hunted, looking for the pack to take them back. l learned you can face the day and all its turmoil feeling calm undersea. this comes of a practice of reflection turning inward and interpreting that world to share it with those who like to write and read. and sometimes a makeshift parade of thank you. no need to resort to trickery; just be bored enough until the imagination kicks in then you will know you have one.

a wild dune of sand you

held my painted toes you

anchored my knees

I cast my prayer into

the seas

the ocean's wind and water whipped up her fav drink: a salted trenta toasted kelp cold cream seafoam. no ice. and an extra shot of fauna served in a microplastic recyclable cup. enjoy!

blue light in the night she was a nail searching for the hammer, indeed apps shot into the void, running laps on circular trap, her friends married working smiling pregnant and she was scared moody drunk out her mind but some day... some day she would love & live well...

the morning is cool and i breath into my hands. the geese fly north in tattered V formations above the Central Valley. coffee on the balcony with the orange cat. let's make it a good one.

exalted no longer they moved surreptitiously across the city finagling apples and bread off street vendors and lowered they head beneath pissing cherubs choking with crazed laughter. five years later they first painting sold @ Sothebys for a half mill.

rebellious kids we just want to create somethin not follow every rule 2 its dead ending full of angst we lash out finally they call us troubled our conduct misinterpreted. supremely.

by Katya Mills 5.2.2026

latest publications

 Hi friends. as you may know I am working on a short story collection - my first. 

this week was a good one with 3 publications!

here they are ... 

read #1 my latest story published in the inaugural edition of this quarterly independent #press ... https://www.thewordsfaire.com/issuei/pulses-synched-and-fading

read #2 - https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/04/10/royal-sessions-10-5-1998-by-katya-mills/

read #3 - https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/04/11/cover-sheet-by-katya-mills/

probably all 3 will go into my collection.

I may have enough published stories now to submit a sample to traditional publishers looking to publish collections from emerging writers. so that's exciting. 

• Katya

Journal Entry #3.29.26

Oh not stop trying so hard, sweet heart. amplify your will! one of her alters offered, rush like the wind sounding across a vast forest. let them listen when you speak. it was a critical meeting and she was intimidated by the power in the room, mostly men with cufflinks and attitudes, steadfast and demanding. systemically there could be a domino effect depending on the outcome. she wavered - like she was having a change of heart - and regrouped and pushed the microphone down a little to say: to lead us out of this mess I endorse paperback books. I cannot get behind these talking heads. the green can in front of her on the lacquered table was shiny and made you want to drink but sprite would never be a great choice for your body or mind. the branding sold it. like the war in Iran for anyone naive enough to fall for that... of course her strategy failed and she was ridiculed. she was by far the youngest among those assembled there, and the only woman. years later, the bookstore was full of admirers who hung off every word. All her alters had unified into one compelling self. In the tempest - full of fear - I fell apart, she recounted. It was not how I hoped I would act. I would lean into these moments and learn. A crisis of any kind, if it didn't kill you, gave you knowledge and humility and brought meaning. It strengthened my heart with resolve.   #katyamills

Journal Entries #3.21.26

when working my intensity blurs at times like a cataract I guess it's just all these years on earth I've been so lucky to have. from this opaque coordinate my spirit becomes my greatest sense. i lean into it. coffee helps too. there was nothing opulent nothing of splendor there. a table. a chair. the walls were bare. some natural light. these were the conditions I demanded to work. oh. and a lock on every door. the only jewelry i wore was a necklace made from the watch chain from a boy who loved me. the tags of all my animals I loved and lost played a song on the sternum.

on the walk I saw him
bonny lad 

standing proud 

long black hair 

brown skin 

facing south 

it took me by surprise 

2 realize it was you 

my old friend 

conjuring 

so I can know 

you are well

made of precious metals in this plastic world filled with hate and nonsense. they were focused on connection and only used their drones to open eyes and hearts to pretty land and sea scapes. hope was absent but they pressed on. the world got colder. everyone at war. not just factions and flags. my extremities went a little numb. not to worry. pulled on a hat and fuzzy socks. then some bombs fell and I could not feel my heart. made a distress call. your warmth kept me alive. I love you

She paved a trivial highway. I listened. then opened my mouth like a bird before dawn speaking into a forest. She paved right over me. I wanted to punch her in the gut! you cannot do it over the phone.

 you surpass yourself! i declared

a jet left a creamy stitch in the sky 

as day and night

divide 

in the middle 

east 

hungry mouths open 

wide

A piece I wrote was published here in March ... https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/03/11/strange-euphoria-by-katya-mills/

Katya Mills, 3.21.26

(the above fragments were all published in variations on BlueSky and X over the past 2 weeks)

Journal Entry # 3.1.26

We were blind with it wet with it inside the foggy morning. I cut a piece out and pocketed it to touch in moments of despair. In the empire the interest rates climbed up from a base and everything out of reach. They left us to die in our phones. And then – your kiss



I go 2 you
blatant
my love for you
stops me in my pensive world
before you
there was no one
could drag me out of
there
no one
now like a cat
to birdsong
I go
everything stops
when you
call



‘ode to cat’

kiss you on your orange bouncy ears I see you. you used to perch in high places and watch me. I had to find you. 13 years on earth my beloved and now you approach me every morning. writing. I have to stop. I see you. can you please live forever? I love you



2.19.26

the poison wept and ran down the forearms. a queen castigates the bishop in the shadow of the castle. the skin mystified calls the blood to battle. we will never give in. no matter how you frighten us with your machines. she held him. could not speak.



stricken

crazed by an idea I must pursue before attention’s span fractures into atomic weak diversions like thread coming apart when you tug leaving your longing a silvery flash 2 vanish

one request

take me with you on your quest I will make your coffee b4 the rising sun interpret maps and stars with you when the day is done

inspired by imperialist mentalities they decided they could not help the ones trodden under the gears so they worked simply 4 status 4 prestige 4 family 4 country. in time they became knowingly unkind. blind. blaming the downtrodden for their condition

came back from dying obsessed with living came back from lying obsessed with honesty came back from apathy obsessed with trying feeling crying. to hell with all that self-pitying immolation and dying

bravo!

stellar be sure u amplify it on your platform. she brushed the wine off her lips and almost lost her balance. fuc u Darla. fuc u. she went to leave and stopped when he cried out. im lonely! well. she thought aren’t we all then? Billy. drink water. c u later



touched by limerence

first with my eyes I follow you overlooking these aperitifs these tangent sentimentalities my intrigue shifts orbital I center you pin my body to the outskirts of a dissolute party dreaming of you against me entangled if nothing else



She could not

slow down thought or image. the velocity was incredible at night lying in bed. She could not read a simple book or share a simple conversation. She shut her eyes in prayer. It went on like this for several weeks.



all entries by #KatyaMills @ 2026

book review of the biography I recently published

 https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/02/25/review-of-the-life-and-times-of-juan-felipe-limon-dominguez/

A biography by Katya Mills

Juan was an artist and several of his oil paintings, provided by his family, are included at the end of the paperback version.

The Life and Times of Juan Felipe Limon Dominguez carries an intimacy that sings to the reader almost like an autobiography. The author of this brief biography steps back into the shadows, quite masterfully, as though placing Juan on a stage under a bare bulb in some low lit shack one can only find by following the Sacramento River south from the city for several miles deep into the delta farmland, to share his ninety plus years on earth with us.

This is a vivid and heartfelt portrait of a young man with nothing to lose, born into poverty, etched into the rugged mountainsides in Sinaloa, who embarked on a journey from Mexico to the United States after his own family was decimated by misfortune. While following a familiar trajectory of hope, hardship, and resilience, the narrative stands out for its compelling voice. It doesn’t merely chronicle an immigrant experience; it invites readers to live it, breathe it, and reflect on the wider socio-political contexts that shape such journeys. The timing of this release is striking, what with nationalism and anti-immigrant rhetoric peaking, particularly in the United States.

The book’s greatest strength lies in its honest depiction of one man’s vision and how he carries it out; tending to the earth which in turn tended to him, finding a home when he was left without one, creating a family in the absence of one. Despite the cultural dislocation he held on to his roots, staying close to the earth and all the bounty the Central Valley provides. The book is succinct and keeps a pace which is set by the rhythms of Juan’s life. Waking up to work another day of hard labor with his hands, never feeling sorry for himself despite the emotional toll of his losses. Experiences connect through Juan’s memory and and the author blends the past with the present in such a way that it feels seamless and not disruptive, so the pages can turn without having to turn back.

The consistent tone throughout is refreshingly and remarkably optimistic given the hardships Juan experienced. He was known by his family and friends as a man who never complained. To his dying day, Juan’s spirit was full with hope and humor, gratitude and determination. The author’s prose uses everyday moments — a shared meal, a sudden and unexpected decision necessitated by circumstance, comradery at work, an idea or urge taking form  — to open up gateways to deeper reflection.

The life exemplified is portrayed with sensitivity and nuance. The narrative does not frame assimilation as a linear progression but rather as a textured process of negotiation and self-reinvention. In Juan’s own words  —  shared over coffee across the final three years of his life —  Katya captures the bittersweet nature of leaving your homeland only to return decades later and feel like a stranger in your own hometown. Stylistically, this biography separates the chaff from the wheat and avoids overwrought sentimentality or melodrama. The author’s restraint allows the emotional truths to emerge organically, making the moments of joy and triumph all the more rewarding.

In conclusion, The Life and Times of Juan Felipe Limon Dominguez is a story of courage and vulnerability, of obstacles confronted with deep humility yet light-heartedness — and dignity. In the words of the author … “Juan’s spirits were high and he carried an unflagging optimism to the end. You could feel the warmth and generosity in his presence. He saw life through a rose-colored lens and his memory was as sharp as a tack. I can only hope by this brief accounting of his life to have captured some of the essence of the man so many loved and admired, his trials and tribulations, and how he managed to endure them, and not only survive but prosper.” 

 Here is the link to the biography: https://www.amazon.com/Life-Times-Felipe-Limon-Dominguez-ebook/dp/B0GHGP1BBQ

journal entries # 2.16.26

when the body

touched down
in the shallow paupers
grave

the earth held it
like it had not been
held

and the face
bloodless looked
up blind

searching the sky
for the soul



i could not explain away the lacuna without consulting the gods who told me in a hundred beads fallen from my wrist in a sun shower in the middle of the night where I had been. remembering I cried. and wrote it down as fast as I could before it went out on the tides


invasion of dawn over the land … choreographed waves of influencers and who is who in a sanitized place beam out in sizzling satellite emissions then recede … in the silence in the dark I can finally breathe. I can feel joy and heartache and love living

it was freeing seeing her reflection touching nail beds to the curve of this planet she carved each follicle uplifting her thoughts drifting farther from the ache of memory chrome of razor catching light beneath her wrist like the lake where he drowned





by #katyamills

journal entry #5

2.9.26 

all I am is breath. transparency. like the materials you chose to adorn me with. pellucidity of desire. my bones dissolve in your embrace deep in these high count hotel casino sheets. tonight I bring you luck. I am your ace

2.2.26 

only you can. they cannot imprison your soul

2.3.26 

the pain I endure comes less from culture wars and dissipated love or the malaise I feel in my tummy than from the minutes the hours rife with possibility I squander in the doomscrolling semiconsciousness of this our modern age


2.4.26 

the photo of her fell off the wall. her mother and sister recalled it was just after breakfast. they were picking up the shattered glass. only much later did they learn she had lost her life that morning. many miles away in Vienna.


2.5.26 

destitute unwashed unshaven uncertain if he was hallucinating a world full of apathy toward his condition he left with one charitable gaze from an otherwise insolent boy lambent in heart


2.6.26 

the wound came in various colors across the years and could not fully heal without the medicine you were unwilling to give. your apathy betrayed you. I cared less and less and less (about you). I guess it was contagious. It is sad. Yet I feel so deeply I know I've moved on


2.7.26 

before where she stood she saw what was not there. her blood her heart made itself known in her chest pursued by the shadow she cannot best. terrified to believe she was no different than them. this inheritance of mine. can it not be sublimated for good?

2.8.26

so pale
the world becomes 

by the end when the shadow 

once integrated 

disintegrated

by #katyamills 2026

journal entry #4

1.27.26 unwilling to stay in line or lane we produced some wax for the #wane went against the grain and got chided and derided which was only reinforcing as we sang and danced to music they could not even seem to feel and is not that strange? #vss365

1.25.26 there is no #ruse left you could use I have seen them all. and when you haunt our shared location you will feel my distance. you lose. i give flowers only to those I choose #vss365

1.29.26 the title was dropped in the wrong box of which I was unaware. they placed it by my door at the top of the stair. my little head put it together and I was serene. for this thoughtfulness did #obfuscate the general malaise which saddens my gaze #vss365

1.28.26 a #quiver in the river of thought and I made this mistake. to follow one of a thousand diversions. and the river dried up. its bed harbored coyotes traveling west on the train tracks needing to rest. good. i was left hollow and still. breathing #vss365

1.31.26 little could #soothe a jaded heart but he brought over an ice cream cake just the same. day before their birth. joy sparked 4 a sec. is he dead yet? naw. what kind of planet? idk. but we have our dreams. #vss365




by #katyamills 2026

(originally posted on twitter and bluesky's daily vss threads)

journal entry #3

1.23.26 while they #drizzle us with promises and stir our dying embers into a flickering hope licking the smoggy air i go about my rituals polishing my boots to shine and kick the everlasting tar out of some innocent dandelion as I tread the weary similitudes

1.21.26 the hardships made her brittle and broke her. she would never be that delicate heart again. she was resolute and when the winds picked up she tied her hair back flexed her psychology to #bend and move through any storm

1.22.26 she got thrown off again and all the bearings she intended upon gone her emotions unraveled and she became #unmoored. she wasn't a big drinker but a solid vodka cranberry did the trick. it's not often you discover your mate leaves you for another

1.24.26 you let the confidence #slip. I could not protect you anymore. I was up all night distraught. The tides cruel with rip. My heart carried yours to a distant star where you might not be sought. The fabrics were made of ionic sticking waters. the currency empathic tears

1.20.26 out of nothingness made of antiquated politics & algorithmic static ... inspiration #looms and takes hold. how do i fight for my life when lulled to sleep? imagine ... stay alert ... create ... listen ... write

1.16.26 no #searing pain today just a watercolor that could even wash away as the sun peaks and the staircase creaks and the heron speaks

1.17.26 the interrogation was going quite well indeed the walls #dappled with her blood and she came to arms tied behind her at the wrists and spat at her audience. raise the curtain! let the fucking show begin

here is the link to a biography I just published! a story of a humble farmer and his immigration from Sinaloa to California in the 1940's ... https://www.amazon.com/Life-Times-Felipe-Limon-Dominguez/dp/B0GHR7TXC9

by  #katyamills  

2026

BIOGRAPHY

Hi I just published an #immigrant story and brief #biography of a great man who passed away last year age 99. Paperback coming soon. This is the E - edition ...

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GHGP1BBQ/

fiction / story

a story I published. fiction 

https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/01/16/governess-by-katya-mills/

journal entries 2

1.14.26 my thoughts off-center wonky I herded them into the pot and put them on a boil while I located my spine. it was January and the days ahead promised madness and terror, domination over love. bright smiles and kittens would not be enough

1.13.26 idea 4 when you're struggling. talk to yourself like your best friend sitting on the stoop in the old hood in the evening and you can here the cicadas and give yourself some encouragement and wisdom to carry on

1.11.26 years ago it would be kooky or straight up sci-fi to think you could have a video of a life being taken and blamed for their own death. but if you're a minority of any kind you know it's been this way forever and the only solution is you me we

1.10.26 encountering the sky and the horizon the moon and the stars and rising sun unmissable for any warrior summoning capacity to fight the powers that be in creative not violent ways

1.9.26 your delivery is meaningful. will you lift your arms and cut the air with ominous intent and issue dull insensate biased half-truths? you are dead to us. we do respect our dead but we speak of them in the past tense.

1.15.26 how do you explain it was it the whiskey on your breath? something broke you up and got you heartfelt in your era of not giving a fuck. talk to me. let's open it up some. I like it. I almost forgot you had it in you.

#katyamills

journal entries (1)

Journal ...

1.8.26 the body unleashed a symphony of pain signals as I got out of bed. nothing a hot shower and cold brew coffee cannot silence. the talks we had gave me hope. the sun was always there we just could not see it. oh to be alive.

1.6.26 in her youth she was sent to the best schools and developed a spiking variant of intellectual pride. over the years she encountered failure and hardship and changed. looking back she saw how clueless she was.

1.7.26 the sun shines in Cali the reservoirs are close to full. the kitten pulls the Dell plug out of the power strip and shuts it down. pay attention to me momma. I scoop Loki up on my shoulder. shaking off this winter cold. excited to get to work.



#katyamills

2026 id

you kept out of trouble for a while
work was an abstraction
nights you found a bit of peace listening to BBC
oh - the fate of Ollie Reed
what about the new year?
maybe resist condemnation
take a great and honorable reflection
@ the intersections
of identity

#katyamills