4.4

poverty had almost destroyed them

they made up the balance

by kindness selflessness

and congeniality

#katyamills

lonely

i once was so very
alone if i encountered you
and we went sideways
the moment would burn
for days

december upon us

the month was turning over like you, beside me, in bed. i knew you would be there for me and that was the point. i got so tired of getting passed by and passing by and i began to understand i deserved more, i wanted more. but first i had to understand how to be alone and be good with one, at peace with that. now it's december and not so cold, anymore.

flash on chalk

chalk drawn sidewalks told a story of the city on a sunday morning. the heat was beginning to climb upon us with the sun in the sky. i took some coffee and you had water and we walked three corners of the square. many of the artists were down on their elbows touching up. a kid who had not learned to talk looked in our eyes and pointed enthusiastically at some faces in the stone. no longer alone.

sure sure sure (circa 2011-12)

Don't go-o   o-o-o
spans the world and
then falls alongside it as
you fall away


from one
another
and left by your lonesome
you
imagine (poorly) what it would be like to live alone

Had you been (alone) long enough
you would not be so worried
about being that way
(alone) imagining (poorly) what it would be like
to be coupled up again and
being one or the other
you cannot imagine
too well

Each morning
(when you come to)
Slap your face
girl. Drink your coffee
black

Wait   don't go
be (mine) said the mirror
be ours

Ours be ob
literate
rated short of the qualite
verite

Ob
long
(traces hold on)
in song

Ob
literate
ate twice as much

Still you lack
still you come back
(comma)
feel
comme lit
vulva hood sensate
clit

Cut yourself
some slack
awkward awk
period (time of month)
once honored twice mocked
breast enhance in the fall
leaves something less
redux

Ack
look at that
rack
smiling eyes over the canyon
few inches average elevation
milk shake nation

ack awk gawk
heart attack

Sure sure sure
if you feel it
do it soon
sure sure sure
new
waxing waning full moon

Suresuresure
whatever
the moments momentum
needs your all you

got your attention

Kinda lead
kinda cheer

sure sure sure but
soon
employ
plot
devise

Sure sure sure
remember
memory
ember
the fire
the flame
flickers
falls out
back
to uncolored
to
the same

More of
less

wants you back...
wants you what
you want what
you track what
you back you
backtrack
ack


You go
getter
letter
deliver
soon
let her
sure sure sure
forever stamps
sure sure
those ones they them
thematic
whatever

Go
show her
get her
let her go
to the hills
to the fields
to the small patches
unseen
unheard of
let her

They will
they will rise
yes
sure for sure
for sure for her for sure
they will
we will
all will
get her

So no
more if ands buts
sew and stitch
soul seven sides spirit ways
and able
to table and blood
blood let
her


--  KatYa, 2016

light in august and shredded mail

The guitar. The bicycle. The running shoes. The webcam. The laptop. The unopened mail. The opened mail. The shredded mail. It's August and sure enough I risk being overexposed again. Doesn't take much nowadays. I do my best work predawn. And I'm sorry to the ones I love whose lives are not yet settling with the dust. There's little chance I will be able to open my doors to let you in, this month. 

August and the light cannot be intimidated by glass of any thickness. From a distance I see (and even feel) your struggle, for it only takes a few words or an image to convey. Maybe you want to stand before me so I can see and know more, but what good would it do? We both know I am not the solution to your troubles, though I may make a petty salve. Triple antibiotic. I offer my heart, my mind, my spirit. 

I would so like to say I love you, the spirit of you, the best in you, but what good would it do? You should know by now, you should. Deep down I think you do, otherwise you wouldn't be inviting me back in again. I am honored, too. A few years ago nobody was inviting me anywhere. I was always tryin to be so hard and now I have softened again under the sun, how did I become so soft and hard like glass to light? Who am I to be a walking contradiction and how do you walk, this way?

August. I think on Faulkner who somehow captured it for me, or wrapped my sense of it with his own personal papers. He made August more real for me. There may have been others but I cannot remember. I think of Rodin, but only because his first name was August. I won't have any children, but if I had a boy I might name him the same, for we could nick him - Oggy!

We see no end to any summer in August in the valley, the light and heat will have their way with us through September and often into October. And some of us, what once was me, will see no end to misery, misfortune and pain. Nobody should be told they brought this on themselves, but if you have been there like I have, you also know that you had some part in it, and maybe even the largest of all the roles. For you are always there in the center of it, are you not?

Learn your lines well, my dear, and know you are not alone. I am behind you as well, with others whose parts are also to be played. I will take that deep breath from behind the curtains, steady myself and walk in under the lights with you in my own time and when the script demands it. Your stage presence in your own life is irrefutable. 

no sex. by choice

By choice
two years without
sex

hot to the touch
and
easy to
climax




alone