not a color. a hue

I wouldn’t call it green. wouldn’t call it blue. the way it painted over our lives there was little else we could do. Not a color but a hue. He knew a place by the water in the shade. The river looked blue from above, and green when you invade. I would miss these friends. We drank decaf coffee out of a thermos and it was disgusting. Say nothing and be seen and not forced to speak up. The clarity of untroubled colors here in the shade. The river was blue from above, and green, when you invade.  #katyamills

colorless

you got me disinterested by your tone of voice. seeing you i have a choice and paint the world around you cannot help but drop out without color not even close to an impression until the absence stands out clearly

the serum

there is a discordance
a shaking of foundations
if the color hits the litmus test

and meets other requirements 

unknown

the sound
a hollow tone

- excerpted from 

'Heart Holds A Vacancy' 

(KatYa, 2011)

I took to meditating on a hue. Even one color has endless variations; if I could see them all at once, this had to be my color. If I could not pull my eyes away, this had to be my color. If anytime I was in a daydream and this color came to me, this had to be. I really liked having something in common with a color. I could be in a terrific jam and the color would be there with me so I was not all alone. I could find the color almost anywhere I looked. I could soften the world's cruelty through my color first. I could pluck my color from a rainbow. I could hear my color in wind chimes, and taste my color in sorbet. Then one day. One day I could not find my color. The world so drab without it. I would not speak to anyone. I would not run and dance. I had to take a chance and pick a color all anew and make it mine to give to you.

not a color exactly. a hue

I found myself in a color, in a hue. We were driving away from it all. I gave him the keys to my car. He knew a place far down the river where we could get close to the water and sit in the shade. The river looked blue from above, and green when you came close. But it was neither of those. I had been in a room with friends, earlier, on a sunday morning. I drank decaf coffee and listened and began to smile. Not everyone had a story to share. I find great comfort in a spacious meeting hall, where you can say what you need to say and nobody will talk over you. Where you can say nothing and still be seen. Faraway, sitting on a riverbank, was the same. I lost myself in a color, in a hue. I wouldn't call it green. I wouldn't call it blue.

some of the stuff i like about this life nonstop

The experience i have of living is so precious to me, from the moment I wake up and even while i sleep, and even when i feel controlled or having to wait in line somewhere, someone i might talk to can suddenly make me feel special, seen, even free! the moments i spit angrily upon the gray urban concrete overcast city even they may turn over in a flash when am i awash in spirit filled with color by a song from a window of a high rise, an automobile passing by, the blue notes warping orange and green and fuschia as we comes and go and the distance between us closes or grows... a street artist, a jump rope kid, a skater flipping the board under his feet upon a rail and sliding down in the balance... the bass on a hot summer day spills out a trunk in a traffic jam to meet the heat rising in oil and exhaust, or the decided will of nature pushing up out of a frost until the sprout cracks through somewhere, a sidewalk a tunnel, a floorboard, even through the eye socket of a skull or a broken shell, the inhabitant long since gone on... hell, it warms my heart! an otherwise cold unfeeling is replaced. Life is nonstop. How could I question my freedom after a sight like that?

punk. another treatment

moment to moment
you keep drifting
or sink

be a lilypad
think about the frogs to come
and how best to support them

or leave
fall from a tree
scratch the water's surface

sink to the pond floor
nestle with anaerobic 
scum

week to week we
face the bleakness
around us 

(you can)
color it in

give it the middle finger 
if you really care
sometimes

that's punk.
really caring

PURIFIED

i wanna be someone. of circumstance. 

i wanna be me. 

a form. with a formula. 

neither for nor against the world.

i am spinning retrograde. with mercury. 

we are having a blast at the planetary dance. 

running interference on iPhones.

i wanna be alone. 

having to catch squirrels and dig roots to survive.

i wanna ton of friends. none of whom i ever met. 

all who might love me. on demand.

i wanna dream. come true. 

a hole. a head. some space. to tread. 

my mood. blood red.

i wanna be told. what to do. 

my mood. sad blue. 

reflective of you.

a lake. a storm. 

thawing an ice age. 

melting my formula. 

my life. into a basin.

when the children come home 

from the forest where they play, 

they may wash their dirty hands in me 

and

both of us…

purified