believer

They cannot hold a candle to you.
This must mean that you are bright.
For who would hold a candle to the sun?

You stay in your room.
You are a strange one.
They do not understand.
How could they?

The seasons are going round again. The harvest.
No one sees it anymore.
Like you at your work.
If they saw, would they believe?

I will walk beside you.
The journey will be long.
We can make it and more tolerable
If we sing a song.

-KatYa

live a better life!

I made a video yesterday in which I talk in an optimistic way about one of my favorite topics, personal empowerment, including: how to locate your choices and make them, how to 'survive yourself', personal responsibility, 'Radical Acceptance' concept (a term i borrowed from my study of DBT or Dialectical Behavior Therapy, a modality developed by Marsha Linehan to treat Borderline Personality Disorder), writing practice, socioeconomics, and mindfulness.

murder by memory - part iii

The way you remembered it was not the way I remembered it, and everyone else had already forgotten.  The NRA was not a weak lobby in DC. Many financiers and real estate magnates and movie stars and pro athletes and paranoids and phobics wanted to keep a .44 in their glove compartment,  and worked the legal system hard to find the highest caliber argument. But soon there would be no head to put a gun to. Only a heart which held the lantern of truth up to an establishment which held stake in a lesser truth, perhaps an eco-friendly low watt lightbulb. This was no revolution but there were two sides and both believing they were bonafide fighting the forces of darkness. Everyone else was confused as hell or too busy to bother. What were we trying to accomplish? The way you remembered it was not the way I remembered it, and everyone else had already forgotten. But collective forgetfulness tended to take the creases out of faces erasing lines had been drawn, like twilight, like darkness; so long as you could not see them the crashing waves were not so frightful, and might even lull you to sleep.

papier-mâché

When i put forth the greatest of effort 

and try

then left all forlorn
with my    y-y-y-why?

when my eyes
see your eyes
and the eye lashes back


honesty says
look away now
love, look away

how I feel all alone
and your loneliness
too


i wish for your love
though there’s nothing to do



i hate all my wishing
i hate all my hating
hate all my feelings
this way and that


hating you
hating me


and then
get quiet
all turn
to stone



then come dark clouds

fifty thousand dark shades
the long and dark nights

the endless dark days


my ears start to bleed
my sight starts to fail
in exchange for choice words
my Latin, your Greek

choice merciless words
me to you to me speak


the storm in my head wants what happened, unreal
the turning over, my hands, what got stolen, not to steal

i stole from you 

steal from me

away from us
now

the wall between rooms
made of pa·pier-mâ·ché some
how

I would pull all apart! all the glue and the pulp
and i know you would, too! i swear this is
true


i will send out my linens now

white flags on the line
if only to know you 

were part, my design


i will unshape the monsters, tie them with twine
with hair if i have to, to keep unrefined
all the hatred between us
the base, solid kind


above which we once drew our cottons, with care
before they got soaked in our red sea and glare


unmoored
in the midnight dead sky
freshly fallen
lost love


instead i am left to wonder what was
with this broken heart, because and because

surrounded by white flags
and my
why why
  why whys


the tears
the wood floor
now dries


soon to burn
in the hearth of my heart
down below

knowing exactly
what i never wanted
to know

kettle water

The day the week the mid-month begins with a tremble in the soul and awaken from some useless worry in some recurring dream I cannot ever work out,  to a chance! I get up -predawn- and put raw blue flame under the kettle water, just like my grandma and her mother before her did, say my prayers and heat up that old American dream!