tahoe. north shore

at the waters edge 

snowball burns the palm of my hand 

for you. a bird in your bright coat 

winged lashes 

a blue memory hits me 

like the lake between 

the eyes

#katyamills

press mute

there's nothing like the sound

of early birds of spring 

you gotta mute the commercials

to really understand

#katyamills

Boomtown

in the cool Nevada mornings

hiding beneath sagebrush scattering left and right

the quail shriek and travel in pairs

you can observe their cousins at the casino in Boomtown

who exhibit the same behavior upon striking

 a Keno jackpot

#katyamills

mi gatos

hiding under blankets

listen to momma liquefy

oats ice bananas 

green and brown eyes with 

coffee spaced out super

perdidos obsessed by 

birds   #katyamills

cat and bird

blondy and the black cat 

brothers contemplative for hours 

on this high balcony

only a mouth

full of feathers

will end the procession 

of cans

#katyamills

25

like birds without songs

red arrows 

stitched in the

wing

god 

we are small

we are essential

now

#katyamills

what the whip poor will

1:11am. macrobid wages war 

in the gut. i wake startled

eyes bloodshot hair reaching up and back

a victoria crowned pigeon i 

audit yesterday. submit my findings 2

the memory bank and retire at dawn 

floating prayers off the balcony

to my dear colleague in 

the ICU

#katyamills

birds mia

one day
when all our birds are drones
may we remember what we are
grateful for

we live like birds

you get a key and a room
of your own in a small city

what a feeling
you can make a whole world
all to yourself

you can read books
you can play guitar
you can write books
and songs with
friends

you have an address
you live there
wow

rescue some kittens
and raise them

life can be really very nice
for some years and then
one day things change

they tell you
you gotta go

we live like birds

crush

The world drank in a cross-sectioned bit of her life

it was springtime then
the orange crush

all the birds had something
to say

you picked out
the thrush


a million variations
on green

and everyone in
a rush

44

four found a friend
      in four

 four and four made
of arrows

birds flyin cross
some tracks

of elbows
of arms

profile made
four -n- four
side by side

in prayer

and greater
 than the sum of them
    selves

with gods

the deuces held court
the days were short
inside them

the nights began
at eight

Process #

What with the predawn birds and Claude Debussy this morning after a vibrant night of dreaming, I am overcome with a fullness of spirit. The milk. The coffee. I was beginning to think I would never finish writing this novella. Oh! The simple wonders of the world. How things may change in an instant!

silently carried by water. (a creative nonfiction)

I suck up air and float down the river on my back. I cannot hear anything cause the water is over my ears and I like it, I cannot see anything with the sun in my eyes and fish gather beneath me for shade. A feather floats by, and another. A long time ago she was my age, my mother, now I am hers and I have no children at all, almost six feet tall. The snowy egret is fishing on the far shore and soon it will be fall and the salmon will swim the other way, the friends will stop on their way to Lake Tahoe. From Lake Tahoe. We will have coffee cause that's what you do without kids, drink coffee and talk about something; life may not pull you along so you push it. Push it into passages push it into song. Give it to anyone else to find meaning... to make meaning... and then? That's your children, there. You give them to the world or they go out alone, people see you in them, they see you; they reflect you and you, you are proud of them; very sad if they fail, god forbid if they die. I suck up air so I can float down the river on my back with the feathers. We are soft, we are moving, absorbing all that we can, trying to stay on the surface, yet always we fall deep... to find meaning... to make meaning. Push into song and pulled into words into narrative. Drinking coffee cause that's what you do, not six feet tall, no children, none at all nearing fall. Snowy egrets and passage of time. Fish in the shade, sun in the eyes... silently carried by water.

variations on a bird nest updo

Honey put on your peacoat and galoshes and go out and look for that perfect nest for your updo! Factors for your individual fashion may include matching hair color, texture, length, volume, level of moisture, sheen, quality. For instance, a north american goldfinch nest surely will not do for dreadlocks, unless you are going for shock value or modern art, while the Gray Catbird variety may not well complement an afro, and never ever attempt to situate an Chimney Swift nest atop a Stepford wife variety hairdo. The fashion police will be sure to arrest you!

Be sure to not steal any bird's nest currently inhabited (you can tell if it carries eggs of any colors, is still warm to the touch in the midst of a frost, or has chirping chicks pleading for worms), for if you do you will certainly have your eyes and head pecked upon and you will deserve it! Many a fashionista in the new millenium has lost sight and sound as a result of thirsting after the perfect nest they have found, attempting to hide behind a manmade canopy for the purposes of approaching said nest in possession of a such ruthless fowls as the Cedar Waxwing, Dark-eyed Junco, or Downy Woodpecker. Bloody hell! Find an empty nest somewhere in your backyard or local park or forest, and when you are sure it has been abandoned you may take it into your hands carefully, looking left and right, up and down beforehand, then quickly walk away. After dark may seem like the best time for a nest grab, but this is not so! for the only one who cannot see in the dark, my dear, is yourself!

 Go home and shower and then towel dry and mess up your hair as bad as you can, then hang your head down so you can grab it all up to the top of your crown (or however you yourself prefer to prepare for an updo will do) and hold with one hand as you raise yourself back up to the mirror, with the birds nest now resting on the edge of the sink and blown dry clean of any dried insects or other items momma may have flown home (from rusty nails to hairpins to the nubbins on the edge of notebook paper fallen off the children's backpacks walking to or from school). Of course if there are squirrel nuts in there you know who took advantage, and these nut shells and fragments may be glued to the bottom or sides of any nest for decoration, or otherwise discarded. Do not attempt to return whole nuts to squirrels, or otherwise clean, cook and eat them at your own risk!

What with the clean nest on the porcelain and your hair held up now by one hand in front of the looking glass, my sweet and gorgeous one you are, it is now time to scoop up the nest with the other hand and (firmly now) seat the nest atop the head or slightly to one side if that's your style, and commence with the pins around the circumference to get her situated so she won't fall away and embarrass you in the middle of your tea party. Messy nests are preferred, Hermit Thrush and House Wren nests and so forth, for any branches sticking up from the nest may also serve as natural fasteners coming down upon your head. For close cut hairdos and larger heads and egos à la Miley Cyrus, smaller fowl nests may be preferred for juxtaposition. Utilize a companion or friend to doublecheck your work, and to offer a second pair of eyes in case your taste is bat-crazy! And go out and be lovely, my dear, and one last and critical point! NEVER go to an outdoor party (wedding reception, football tailgate) in the same locale native to the bird whose nest you borrowed or stole, for you will surely attract all the wrong attention!

xxx KatYa xxx

Journal # 04.20.15

I am listening to the kids playing in the park across the way. I know adults who sound so giddy. They also have been entrusted little to no responsibility. They can line up for lunch in the parks. They can play silly games and do things that seem irrational. Nobody really listens. And no one picks the adults up at the end of the day, unless it's the law. I am listening to the kids and then the birds. I cannot see the birds unless i inspect the trees closely. Same goes with everthing else. I try my very best to mimic the different birds. The cat looks at me despairingly. I give him a plate with an oval of cream. He laps it up, then licks his whiskers and dreams of the mother he never knew. The cream holds its shape well. I step on the scale. The sound of the mechanism rocking into place. Finding me a number to hold onto today. XXX. Within fifteen pounds of the weight I have been within fifteen pounds of since I was fourteen. I am thirty pounds heavier today than I was then. Hopefully it is all in my mind.

My toenails are painted silver and nobody sees them. My fingernails are not painted. Nobody sees them. My highlights have grown out, so what could excite me anymore? I cannot look forward to sleep. The passage of time disturbs me. From moment to moment, life seems so simple you cannot let it get away from you. And then it gets away from you. I wanna think of you and the kids and the adults seem like kids but don't get picked up at the end of the day. Unless it's the law. A good day is a day I have not much interest in myself. I listen to the birds and the bells of the church ring the hour. I try my hand at mimicry. Then fight to have my voice back. I am tired of the me and my shadow. Whatever happens to me now, is not my concern. Terrible things have happened. Incredible things. And many endless dull days in between. I set my course for the stars, and when I arrive they are city lights and desires. So I struck out for friendship in the night. The times are amazing and I am loved and hated. In the end I got only one thing and that was out of there, alive.