loyal.26

the horn section bursting

set up a break against the

fire 

the reeds supple 

like fingers 

even the concrete got

to feeling. our feet 

left gooey indents in

the road

a new kinda hollywood 

where everyone's

a star

#katyamills

may 20 2020

dawn

the birds

gave my heart

some hope

ina song 

for the 

summer

next book?

i've been considering my next project. my next book. i'm excited to say i unearthed a treasure of archive material on my drive, files some of which i previously had trouble converting, hundreds of pages of autobiographical material dating back to my twenties and early thirties, and all the adventures i had. life was going off the rails but it sure was entertaining. lots of stories and characters i otherwise would have forgotten. i'm excited to either remix it into fiction or semi-fiction. i could publish it as straight autobiography but it's so much fun stirring it up and remixing. this has become my niche period, 1990-2010, and i hope to approach it from a completely different space.

98

like a bullet with a tracer

ink shoots off your 

arm

a bitterness

on the tongue 

at work

like a dance the tears

play up the eyes

level the bottle 

nudge of the wrist

cold heart heats 

up then 

rest

you wake to the sun

where you lay

breath and thoughts

in motion push 

against

 volumes of 

memory

#katyamills

remix

concerted

the world looked different. maybe because of my friend. she came back from nicaragua to visit, someone in her family had passed on. she gave me central american eyes. we had breakfast at dennys and shared photographs and stories. emotions were forefront on her face. i have trouble trusting, do you, too? but you gotta let someone in. i went to seven eleven and thought about it. turned in my winning poker card for two. one for me and one for you. thanks for the flowers. reruns of the streets of san francisco. karl malden tore it up. thanks for the love. we came together just right. i bought two cokes. one for me and one for you. some lady came in and barked at the guy behind the counter. do you have this? do you have that? no we do not. people can be so demanding. i saw a kid in the backseat of a car. he was hanging out his head alongside the small dog in his arms. both of them with their heads out the window. smiling. panting. happy to be alive. some pop song twisted as they drove through the parking lot. someone's drinking malt liquor on a saturday afternoon. i'm sure thankful it's not me.

tireless

thank god for this

winter morning
counteracted by effort and
shower and coffee

i cut and paint my nails
the tigers alongside the
furnace

i scrub the pots and pans
the tea kettle

today may i be
tireless

with words
with efforts and
devotion

two clicks and a book

I do not write mysteries. Writing is the mystery and a book, a puzzle piece, a small part of being solved. I am wondering if I have what I need to do what I wish to now do? The magic number, I make it fourteen. Two weeks, to get back to you. To immerse myself in the colorful cove of creative process, and finish what I started a little over a year ago. There is a battle on our screens, online, for our eyes, our attention, our desires. When we are tired, they win. I go to do something creative and if I make one mistake, chasing down an email or a tweet - any packet of information - I may be sucked to the bottom of a sloping hill of mud, two clicks away, marching my way up and back to reclaim my sacred land... but always two clicks away. I wonder if I have what it takes to stand my ground? I have all my rations, all my munitions, and all my comrades around me. I have my health and my family, and my faith. I can easily recall when the world came over me, a long shadow before a setting sun. I plodded my way through the deepest night. Lost, I surrendered; and they had mercy on me. I don't know how or why. I was a pitiful starved creature, lunatic raving and howling, chained to an iron post on a cracked island of asphalt. I was the one who broke dumb from the pack. Now they saw I was no threat and marched me through a wasted land of drought. I focused on the stars of windless night until I was one, too, the smallest and farthest away. And brighter grew. I stretched for the sun out of a cold, dark place only I inhabited. Not at first, but soon I was touched. I found something there I cannot describe. In the poverty of speech one may call it 'god' - if only to relate. The thing which keeps me bright. This thing which can keep me up all night. That which helps me shine through darkness. Immerses me in sacred process, helps me hold my ground. In fourteen days or not, two clicks away and shot, from the bottoms ever climbing... I wonder will I find my way, and back to you? Otherwise, this book may live a lonely life in my heart.