bad reel

some introductions fizzle

from the start like a film with award winning acting cinematography and stunts

a musical score to die for  

yet the screenplay shallow piss

poor. a non event a bad

reel

#katyamills

8mm

the heart finally spoke out like cinema
ina condemned theatre
tape rolling through a bell howell
projector dug from an archive. the heart
finally spoke out
the light cast upon the wall
bringing the past to life for
the heart never dies

#katyamills

the give and take

my tired eyes tracked the screen for some intrigue on

the only holiday that had the guts to tell you what to do


i was thankful

for the day off and some time to myself



a film tapped into the part of me

wanted more outta life

you’re excellent when you’ve

something to prove

i asked my phone
 remind me in 2 hours

to call somebody i love

si se puede

Tears in your eyes spoke to the disappointment; how union gains ultimately fell back upon the common laborers exploited on American farms. you tell me nothing's changed. i'm not sure how to feel. i wash some carrots down with water. somebody picked these vegetables and cut and peeled them, or ran a big machine out there, over the earth. someone with a family and maybe all alone. i remember Dolores shouting  si se puede! si se puede! si se puede! she brought a smile to the workers and some hope. maybe that's all that matters. tired from the day, i lay me down to sleep. tomorrow i will revisit the law at it pertains to my chosen profession, and watch the first of the leaves fall.

jamming the transmissions

I could be accused of feeling my way through the world and it's not so bad. I would rather be a disheartened sentimentalist   than a computer or a religious fundamentalist. I guess I am still learning not to react, to check my feelings by my reason. I wouldn't shut them off. A world without feeling is a cold place, anyone who lives there could show and tell you. Most supposedly even-tempered people, are they really smooth around the edges? Don't most of them have a vestibule full of anger jamming their transmissions? Won't this pressure need to blow like an aortic aneurysm, and soon? And the people closest to them will naturally get the blowback. The residue at the bottom of a pot left on the stove to boil dry. I return to my seat in the auditorium. The giant screen. The sentimental film. And have a good cry.