Y

long we lived 

in darkness. wonder 

not y we worship 

the sun

#katyamills

tireless

thank god for this

winter morning
counteracted by effort and
shower and coffee

i cut and paint my nails
the tigers alongside the
furnace

i scrub the pots and pans
the tea kettle

today may i be
tireless

with words
with efforts and
devotion

iiii iiii ii

i cannot imagine life without
first a commitment to be helpful

i left all the jobs i ever had that did not feel so
clerk, salesperson, broker, messenger, banker, waitress
i found a way to make a living by helping

writing

this is my practice
this is my devotion

early morning americans

struck a balance with all, in the city in the summer after dawn, when the morning bird was heard and the sun at eye level, playin hide and seek behind deciduous trees, while the cat trailed you partways to the cafés, and the barista knew your name without asking, and the statesman laughed and folded his newspaper and nary a phone was ringing, the time was reserved for a church bell and silence. americas were thick with technology, in the cables in the air, and you wouldn't need to care in the early, early mornings. in the city on the streets, face values appreciated and if you looked past the wheels and the burden of homes that were carried, you were sure to find an honesty and goodness that survived any standing recession, knew more than money and politics combined, and had a penchant for pastimes of early morning. as deep as any faith, the devotion. rise and shine, america!

k. early morning devotée

m x memory -vii

The leaders of the silent majority were, in this case, unrecognized; the best intel found them having just departed around the time you wondered aloud where they were. This brought tears to the loyalists eyes, although it may have been the preponderance of onions. You knew they had been there by the discarded skins rustling around your feet... everyone deserves a moment with those who wrote the principles they chose to live by - 4 seconds of fame - such an act of devotion impels unity and the kinda nonlocal intimacy comes of hearts and minds in alignment.

K after a 20-mile race!

Yet the antagonists are always gathering like clouds and forcing the separations - an end to to the aforementioned sunshine - and the fading vibrations become absorbed in rugs beaten over handrails in city streets and back alleyways. Rugs are beaten publicly, of course, as they are well known to be taken out upon, in these lands.

the runway runs away (a remix)

REMIX of 'this loves for real .no stopping. all green some whole some lights' (circa 10 May 2011 at 03:48)  -- K by K

k by k, 2016

fuck I have been cold. I have been frightening cold, I have. until some small smile some sarah somewhere in this place post punk and petrified with perfect well wishing winning new paradigm nod to the north. if north is astral. if north is known by certain colors that stand out like a football i mean soccer jersey that’s brilliant yellow lighter than gold yet darker than lemon and loved even lusted after between air -steam- rising top of the crucial team consciousness on soft ground with soft ball and hard handshakes raising the rising roof of random screaming. a world of color a world of meaning. for most this was not so, but they backed on the tidal wave like the undertow, where the passion of the few was sourced you know, the masses go and they flow, the massive movement to go with the flow or go and go blow. rarely was this impressive, mostly nullified after the monument to him or her had been already built and cemented in place for public worshiping and it was discovered she or he had been sidelighting in a darker shade of themselves, shadowing the lives of innocents and extinguishing others candles because they lusted and cause they could. you know who i'm talking about there's so many of those. loved by many now hated by most. one circled roped in focus can distract from the life your partner your wife around you. your son who packs a gun -the heat is beat- and maybe boy or maybe girl, the foil-wrapped careful cut icebergs or powders or icicles or dub-sides come half-baked with home fries for the waiting guys waiting sometimes impatient waiting. sent. sent by that curiosity fills the soul kills some whole. just before the -you don't know now you know- part. the grow on your street that your feet touch and meet there. pavements so hard they killed fred astaire. or would had had he not been nimble. like no bread, just bologna with capers and mozzarella, white wet from the homeland near the river saucony. alive and kicking. kicking down the doors to taste buds. touch memory deeper than sentimental songs, you know. by heart. don’t start, ‘cause I’m not finished, planet earth, the spoon, the black and white, the dish, the fashion statement the runway ran away with. now you come back to reality and fall in love with someone and lose yourself. there now, your good and lost, child, god loves you like that, good and lost in love forever.   - KatYa

k by k, 2016

the secret life

There is a life inside each of us, call it what you will. You can access this life, this world, by dreaming, lucid dreaming, various forms of meditation, various forms of process. You can access through silence. You can access it through music. You can access it through ritual. Some of us will explore it by conducting our own far-reaching experiments in our own spaces, laboratories, dance floors. Some of us may create worlds to share with others, through businesses, churches, schools, non-profits. Some will find the secret life by the body, pushing limits of endurance. Some will get there in relationships, loving, an affect or emotional access point. Others can tap in with pens and papers, blueprints, brushes and tools. Some will find catharsis in shared meaning, collective experiments, cooperatives. Others will find renewal hanging off the edges of mountains, alone. Teaching makes a microcosm out of a classroom. People reflect off of one another, and understand themselves better. Mind-body-spirit philosophies. Chanting, mantras, yoga, mindfulness, drumming, devotional practices all throughout the world. Reading and writing and speaking out. Time spent alone, in nature, pilgrimages. There is a secret life inside of us, and what's really wonderful is when you can access it and, catharsis or not, it makes you more alive, with wonder, and gives you a reason to smile and smile towards someone, too. Shining like you do.    - KatYa