free the ever given

endless tugboats and an egyptian

full moon high tide

could not dislodge the floating 

skyscraper lost its bearings in a sandstorm

blocking the artery

giving the world a stroke

#katyamills

halloween

the method 

unconventional

practiced 

relentlessly within

a wave of sound

from dusk to dawn

a chorus of frogs

water.fire.earth.air

the eye of a

full moon

#katyamills

super.atomic

yes this was the being and yes this was becoming and yes this was remembering all the stuff you hoped i would forget and all the things i hoped i would forget. coming back to me now. in deep sleep or fully awake opening and closing my eyes. believing.



yes this was the being yes

this was the cellular

remembering



you hoped i would forget i hoped

i would forget

the pain



go into it, my darling

go in!



the moon is full becoming

back to us like

before

electrons

fall.3

the moon. full tonight for all to see. we missed it. i was watching you and you me. we rose. for all and the moon. to see.

strikes

when the moon strikes
the night will be mistaken

all the children behind all
the glass have dreamy eyes
for her

all the terrifying things
will have to wait for cover

moon so full so
save me from
my fate

make me destined
great

super fragile composed of vapors

my world collapsed and formed into a star. the star was super fragile and made of vapors but i didn't care. there was little i could do about it. i infused the core with kindness and developed a fuck you solution for any intrusion. the moon of the earth changed by its proximity to the sun. i lived out there, too, and went through many moods. as one replaced the other, life got pretty interesting. we did not need to get along, you and i, but when we did we could walk and talk again, like friends. this was nice and i needed to be alone again, super fragile, composed of vapors.

3

the third was full of frisbees and soaring like a bird. oils were dripping and smoke was rising, the links were hot as hell. when they discovered water in the park bubbling up from a pipe, the kids made ample use of it. everyone and everything within a hundred yards got wet, except the birds. soon it would be labor day and no one wanted to work but i was ready. i felt i could handle just about anything. the full moon was coming. so long as you got out there and under it, illumination was certain.

cloud for sale. sinks in the middle

what with all was going on i began to think the world a dark place i could not find any light for seconds of every day not minutes just seconds not hours just seconds and me i was not sleeping well i had a boyfriend and the mattress i bought off the internet was supposed to float us on a cloud but if a cloud sinks in the middle well i did not know but this one does and what with all was going on in the world i began to think it a very very dark place and even the music i streamed into the audiowaves could hardly make me feel less insecure about our world our dark world our dark obvious future and then well the cloud it sunk in the middle the perfect cloud sunk me into my boyfriends arms and my insomnia went on and on in the dark and my boyfriend he got up and got dressed and left and left me there lying in the middle of a sinking cloud yes floating miserably so in the dark and cruel world you know but when i awoke and raised my head and got out of bed what with my bed what with my bed head and crawled up and out on the edge of this dark cloud and hit those goddam lights right and they were ecologically sound and bright white or not so and soft warm like the way i like them like old school kinda uneconomical old fashioned bulbs from way back when maybe the nineties remember then? and when i got up and fixed my bed head then said fuck it and put a hat over it all and looked me in the mirror and laughed and got my instant coffee made in the shade into my big silver bullet of a thermos in a cold and dark cruel world shattered by old yellow light from the eighties well... got my self to my insecure job ten miles away tryin not to do the old california rolling stops at the stop signs on the back roads dark and uneasy and unstable like sometimes but the highway and the stoplights led me to an open road below a very open and energetic sky for there yes there just above me and my politically disinclined am radio listening loser of an october preceding elections and what was it that blew the dark cold cruel world away but that gorgeous full wonderfully years of light brought forth like an opening in the sky for us harvest moon

too late it was too late for us

you would not see me until the sun reflected off the moon

i would notknow you 

by then

lucky kid #2 (companion piece)

Quiet life on softened streets, all the bad news backed away. You lucky kid. I washed my hair with 100,000 molecules. Each one like the full moon tonight, lighting up life in all the right ways. I made it to the site. I could peacefully fold my legs up under me on the couch facing the east,  the house where nobody's home, facing, pinching my slip as I picked it up and let it go hang around freely, pinching myself. You lucky kid you. All the pages were viewed, in a free sweep of eyes (not mine). To be sure they really existed, outside of myself. Not so easily destroyed by water, heat, air, time. Thumbs rubbing the ink to a fade I can no longer describe. Each curve of every letter like the full moon tonight, lighting up life in all the spectacular finishes. Flourishes. You lucky kid. Thinking of a friend, one I haven't even heard of in years, a keystroke away, a daydream, attacking a search engine with a heart on a saturday in America, one truffle at a time, pulling lightly on the ends of twisted plastic until the whole thing rolls over and out, examining the condition of my condition, remembering the ionic bond even if it hurts. Life I love you.



the lucky kid
Posted on December 25, 2015 by KatYa


Softened life on quiet streets today. All the bad news backed into shells and shadows or sank into the mud for a second. I stuck mostly to my routine, after and before I spoke with my family over the phone. Now the past may be the past and the future, the future. But not today. This afternoon I spoke with my family. Then the morning became a golden dawn. Then an evening, alone. A holiday. Coulda been sad I coulda been sorry. Weighed against the afternoon’s words, I was given meaning and washed it through my hair. I smile cause I’ve been made who I am, again, the lucky kid.

milky ways last forever

Here comes the full moon. Our street probably won't get any kids on Halloween, we never do. There's only one side of the street with houses, the other side is a park and a school. It's a raw deal to walk down a street with only half as many houses as the other streets, you're liable to get only half as many treats. I don't blame them at all, hell, if I was a kid I would avoid our street like the plague. Most of the kids around here, the ones who really know what's going on, go up to the Fabulous 40s on Halloween. The people live up there are all politicians, doctors and lawyers, CEOs and stuff. I mean money. They probably drop a K on Halloween decorations like it's nothing. Gimme that giant spider there. That drone, I want that witch ona drone. Can you gimme all the mummies you got in the back, please? They need a goddam assistant to open the warehouse doors in the back by the alley, just to unload all that crap into the SUV. Mummies coming out the sunroof! Amazing. Will you take a personal check? They probably have stamps for signatures they write so many checks up there in the fab forties. Ya, if I was a kid I would hit that for sure. Bring a Macy's bag or something, cause they're liable to drop the kitchen sink. Don't bother coming around my block. My neighbor says he still has candy from last year he's planning to use, just in case anyone shows. Maybe two years old now, he can't remember. Snickers bars don't go bad, anyway, all those damn preservatives. Milky ways last forever.

the moon is super

My dreams were full of life, i found myself resting when i got out of bed. i coulda done nothing and felt accomplished, i mean, much had happened in a few minutes of dreaming. i put on the radio and the drip on the coffee grounds. i brushed my hair then combed it. my medallion was hanging off of the bathroom light fixture, so i took it and dropped it over my head. it was warm on my neck from the heat of the bulb on the glass of the light fixture into the metal of the chain. in my sandals half-awake i sliced my toe on an old chest i am using for a coffee table. i watched the blood drip over my toe it was tomato red and made me feel good and healthy. i cleaned my toe and wrapped a bandaid around it, then fed and encouraged my tomcat out back. looking up i saw the brilliance of the almost full harvest moon. turn off your porch light. you won't need it tonight.

(so i write this letter) shaking salt at eggs on sunday

IF i could take your demons from you and battle them myself this day would be worthwhile, you see, it closes in on me and i don't know what to do inside my head inside my home shaking pepper on my eggs at the break of dawn on sunday. i could go to church but what difference would it make. i would rather go to see you and be with you. you won't criticize my hair or clothes behind my back. or in my face. we could laugh and talk about our boyfriends or our mothers over coffee. we used to go to the thrift stores together, remember? now i walk alone and ride the subways of my mind. my demons are okay they are not upset or acting out; even in the tunnels they sit still and quiet, hands folded, listening to the rails and feeling the side to side sway rock us into a new day. that's why i could battle yours if you would let me. the full moon fell out the window and the light is percolating and i don't know what to do inside my head inside my home shaking salt on my eggs on a sunday. so i write this letter and wait patiently for my chances. to meet someone new or be with you or you or you again, one of many long lost friends.

passages of clouds

I am giving up and giving in to sleep, and then awaken off melatonin with some fight in me for the full moon, stepping outdoors and looking up to her where she is reading clouds, passages of clouds, while I am slipping on my bare feet the black sneaks with the black soles and black laces, after lining them with powder. The clouds are assuaging the moon with great tales of restlessness and woe, and she: delighted, attentive, detached. I am pouring the water over the coffee grounds in slow circles, coming round to myself like i must every night, for when I walk into the world as I must, and raise my eyes to read the same unending jetstream from below, the passing encryption is solved, and the atmospherics release hail and torrents of rain to wash from me my apprehension, my anxiety, my indifference... and all mirage of dissembling.

strange luck

Strange luck before the full moon on the thirty of July, in the early hours of the morning. I went out into the night to the front porch, sat down on the stairs where I met an open silence. Then I saw a shape out by the curb and went down to investigate. A lacquered wooden table tall with one drawer with a knob with emerald etching, someone put out for the taking. A fine object, I thought, one would have to be out of their mind to turn such a piece out on the street. The gods are with me tonight! With all my might I lifted and carried it home. I put it in the kitchen where it stands, this table, and walking around it I felt calm and centered, observing its quality. I went into the study with a mind toward the interior design, and pushed the area around. Then I heard a noise and saw a small plastic box fall to the ground. I picked it up and soon realized what I had done, knocked into the little cube which one plugs into an outlet to fit a usb connection. I got down and saw the circuitry exposed, and went to replace the plastic box over it -- a flash of light and sound and sensation -- I jumped back and stood up with the surge of electricity in me,  the casing fell again to the floor. A strange feeling came over me; what if that had been the end? Surely, I thought, the gods are with me tonight! Strange luck on the approach of a full moon on the thirty of July.

Journal # 05.04.15

The eye of the moon dimmed the stars and scrutinized the city. The empaths locked in battle with the analysts. Politicians raising funds. Water going scarce. Iron lungs. The next generation of pharmaceuticals would cost a pretty penny, and everyone would pay. The kids endlessly vaping. Girls the boys were draping. Prisoners developing patience in lieu of blueprints for escaping. Time would spill us all out on to the streets. The full moon saw through it all. I stepped out upon the back porch, by the light, where the spiders had their feast at night. The clouds were rushing down into the ground without a sound. I locked my gaze upon the moon. I gave it time to reflect. The clouds were rushing through the yards and toward me. Trying to save the land! I whistled and my cats came zipping, out of nowhere, up the stairs and to safety. I stepped inside as the clouds were billowing upwards to the door. I threw the door into the wall, and whisps of vapors curled out the edges and fell solemnly to ground, unseen. I drew the curtains and said my prayers. My energy was churning and yearning for release. I did not dare step out into the night again. No. Something was off about it all. This full moon did not feel right. Dangerous. I hardly trusted myself. Part of me wanted to Keith Moon my apartment. I wanted to tear the devil to shreds! No. Slow down, kid. A voice of reason filled my ears. Outside the moon was searching and searching the city for life. I was better off alone. Turn off the phone. Let go of recent history. Disperse the probing eye of the moon by candlelight. Call upon any spirits near or far. Help me! Help me make it through this night, intact. Then rewarded be, with a key, cut to the lock upon my heart, exact.