untimely

blood
upon the lips 

when i came to

untold hours
unconscious i
stayed up all night without
any draw toward sleep

i mistook the sun
for death and the
moon for the sun

my face
pale as unpainted walls

i wanted something 

i know not what i know not

how to behave

i know not

why

#katyamills

a chance

waking up 

useful and alive and awake

with a chance. come what may

every american

oughta be given this

experience 

#katyamills

the life of halloween

curiosity can amplify
a drained spirit
add glowstix
a wicked costume
a strange expression
add darkness
packs of children
hollowed pumpkins
candles and wind to
animate all inanimate
creatures so scared it
kickstarts the breath
and now i'm thrilled
you see we're truly
living

legendary. local and non-locally

The local legends are legendary, and so are you, too, full of codes and dotted lines, signing with the strangest of signs. The runners got confused and ran backwards cross the bases and back into the dugouts which could only be uncarved and replanted in the earth as trees, encircled by swaths of honeycomb and bees, and it was like a land before time that progress took away. We walked to a local show to see your friend,  an old man wide in the eyes and young in the heart, clear in the mind playing the blues what with a small silver briefcase full of blues harps behind him and walks with a cane. All the while I was hoping to reach my potential (but not really trying) when I locked the keys in the car again and had to fuck all and get a coat hanger. We manipulated everything wonderfully, you and me. You won't remember the guy sittin on a bench between here and there, looked pretty bad and hadn't been chosen in a while by anything but a park and a bench outta place. In the distance (in the memories) a local legend was picking the blues and won't be around for long. I wanna be a local legend some day, too. For now I am non-local and legendary, but only to you.

They call the losses progress, and write them rhythmically in the ledgers -as gains- to the sound of lawn sprinklers, and get away with triumphant bank accounts which open doors to high rooms vaulting into blue skies behind glass. You think you would but you wouldn't want to be there. It's cold and light. And the light is cold, too. I promise the world is easier to take when less experienced. The barriers between us breathable. Someone is wicking away my moisture and I'm not too happy about it, I coulda sold it high on the water mark exists below the levée, some day. You meanwhile are being yourself and doing what you do, working really hard, sharing it with someone and yourself. They wick it away and charge our credit cards. I never cried so hard as the sweat lodge losses. Congratulations on reaching your (earnings) potential, America. I wanna say I'm proud of you, but you see I am way below mine on purpose. I guess I like to suffer zero balances, every once in a while feels like I'm alive in a capitalist plot reserved for us over here.

as life is life and living is living

as we watch the world go by and loved ones die as we look into the sky and wonder why. as we get over ourselves and live another day and go to bed after we pray. as we judge and condemn and smile and then we judge and condemn again and we smile and again we smile with our family with our friends. as the light offers ever new glimpses of the same familiar places and ever new plays on the same familiar faces as we see we see again and what we see we remark for its beauty as it is remarkable. and when the sun goes down soft yellow or new white lights illuminate our little private corners and spaces. in rooms in houses in woods do not go so deep anymore or do they. as we feel we feel stronger and better more encouraged as we feel we feel lost in our feeling or scared in our rooms in our homes in the not so deep so darkened woods. we pull the blankets closer. i will hold you really tight as you hold me really tight i will hold on to you and tell you i love you in a whisper and mean it. you will say nothing as we fall asleep this way as a trace of yellow light fogs up the hallway. you left the light on for me because you know my nightmares are less vicious in less than replete darkness. for whatever reason it does not matter. i set the coffee grounds in the maker and set the timer to brew the coffee at dawn for you. i may not wake when you do but if i do you may be certain i will arise to kiss and say goodbye to you.