nine nine

the plants she had tended to from shoots in the pot gave her a recent bloom and she applied ample blush under the lashes. lines darted out from the corners of her eyes and betrayed her true age. fuck it. she wiped all the makeup off. I am old. I am wise.

 #katyamills

April flowers

you were a hornet

with dossiers and studies backing what you perceived

absolute truth

i was a bumblebee 

with an opinion and a knack for gardening

tired of getting stung

one day i amped up my arguments

pollinated by emotions

faced the needle and refused

to back down

#katyamills  

yes

The quality of life changed, i could sleep at night and stay up all day. i found an exceptional colombian coffee which filled my thermos with a couple spoonfuls of brown sugar and cream, and lasted all day long. i was happily employed in the art of conversation, beneath the surface of dysfunctional meet and greets. spring was coming on strong and every other person with allergies. the cats found entertainment in the yards, after a long winter indoors. i replanted my plant and set it on the windowsill where it prospered. my boyfriend took me for pancakes early mornings, and then we hit the depot for large sacks of mulch, five for ten, and i helped him toss them into the bed of the truck. he took them to the Delta for the orchards.  -KatYa, 2017

Sunday Journal (06.14)

Locke, California. Sweet delta breeze and a friend of a friend of friends. We piled in the GTI all four of us for breakfast on the banks of the river just shy of Freeport and just shy of Sacramento, east of the cold rails on a mosaic of a table a cut above the painted toenails. Three coffees and a water from the laughter to the lips. Just shy of a ghost train, midday, and just in time. Delta Breeze rustles through the trees and blinds made of bamboo framing the windows of you know who. A friend of a friend of friends. The sun came up like usual this morning, and lit up the sky different than ever before. I turned and thanked the door for the score. Skipped the stairs in pairs, and got airborne over the orange fat cat -whiskers like fish- rolling belly up, white, like the opposite of last night.

And so went the day, and so went the day. Kind smiles of distant friends growing close like the cabbage in the garden, and my faith in love is still devout *. The girl with the bleach blonde hair, sweet Joanna of the wild blue eyes and the deep blue seas, asks for an avocado omelette, could you, please? I shake the salt and pepper over my eggs and the slash and burn of hash and browns. I could see the whole clearly now, bird's eye view. I lost and found my glasses somewhere along the way, by the garden. A man who makes cutting boards by hand, of the most riveting natural grains of wood, helped me retrace my steps one by one. We found them on the tortoise. He was reading Ulysses and rather slowly, a symphony of hens behind him.

Joanna says no, hold the toast. Hold the rye, hold the sourdough, hold the wheat, and your hand over your heart for the Canadian national anthem. This lovely man before me, the one with the twin daughters who are having too much fun to settle down, has embroidered quite a morning for us all. Hospitality doesn't come overnight. Sometimes it takes almost six months to make.  Ramon spontaneously grabs the 12-string and sings us a song, the beaten strength carries long. I remember how music once saved me.

Confucious in cobwebbs says it won't be long. Echoes of the Peking Opera in the theater long-since closed, and soon to be refurbished to keep all of Locke upon its toes. A friend of a friend of friends now a friend of a friend... now a friend.

-KatYa

* Rusholme Ruffians, The Smiths

Journal # 04.09.15

I was in bed and the blankets smothered me and I was unable to do my work because I think I was dead. I walked through a couple of walls before I figured it out. My cats could still see me, evidenced by swishing of tails. All of my social responsibilities washed off of my formlessness. I felt pretty good, maybe better than when I was formed. My apartment of course was no longer mine, but you couldn't tell me that. I thought I would never get used to the jerk who took over. He watched television constantly and jerked off a lot. He was quite abusive to his girlfriends, none of whom knew one another. But I changed my mind about him, the night I saw him holding a frame with an old photo of his mother. I saw he had love in his heart. I petted him, but no use. I scrubbed his aura clean, it was the least I could do. His energy picked up a little, and he even opened the cans of tuna I left in the cabinet and put it out on the back porch for the stray cats. Which were my cats, of course.

Rollys evil eye by KatYa

If I struggled much, with ceaseless concentration, I found I could cause the door to vibrate and move. I opened the apartment for my cats at night, while he was sleeping. They were so happy to see me. I saw that I had a true shadow, well not as thick as the human. I could run up and down the wall for my cats to play with me by my shadow. We had endless fun! I was as cold as the night air, and as warm as the sun made the day. I could walk through the fog and all the skunks and squirrels and animals would follow me. I spent hours in the backyard, scaring the crows. The man began gardening, at night. He grew tomatoes and giant pumpkins. The vines pushed over the ground and sprawled out. An idea began to seed in my mind. I evolved my telekinetic, and stole some spray paint, well, floated it on out of the hardware store. I spray-painted myself black and walked through the wall one day and petrified the human host. Within 48 hours he packed up and was gone. I vibrated the doors open for my cats and the skunks and the squirrels. We all convened on the bed, which was mine. A california king sleigh bed and big enough to hold our little family. I crept under the blankets and closed my eyes to sleep. I awoke to living breathing life again! Damn. I gotta pay my rent and check my messages.

Journal. 'Planted'

Yes. Something is stirring! What? Do I too bud and blossom like the spring? Can this be? I went to shake a man's hand and left him holding flower petals. I left my home and a vine traced my path all the way to the store. I was hoping to buy a quart of milk, stick of butter, and something I forgot? Heavens! I walked out of there with only a twenty pound sack of planting soil and plant food. My vine got chopped off by the electric doors, and it HURT! My fingernail beds were turning green. When I reached the train tracks, still two blocks from home, I stopped dead in my tracks. OH THE SUN! Suddenly filling me with such passion I cannot describe! I turned my head and heart up to face it, and I swear my spine arched like a bow, against the pull! I became lighter. My eyes went blind in the looking! My pores opened and my skin turned to oil. My feet became locked to the earth to keep me from floating away. I could no longer see or hear. I could no longer move! I did not care. I stood there and the sack of soil rolled off my back and broke open at my roots, I mean feet? The plant food I had already digested walking home, I could not wait. Something was rising up my esophagus now, I know not what? I can feel what feels like leaves and things scratching and bending up through the passage. I try to speak but no words come out! Oh my god! What is happening? My thoughts are upon the feeling, only the feeling of warmth of the sun and a wish for rain. Please rain. Please rain. Please rain. OH THE SUN! Oh my god! I am breathing out but it's like the deepest inhalation. How, how, how? I inhaled the toxic shock of your world. It grumbles in my tummy. I give you a purer stream, OH! Is it me? Is it really me? I see you walking by, my friend, but you cannot see me. I try and wave but only rustle in your breeze. PLEASE! See me? I love you. I will always love you. You kick on by, all careless like, and I just watch but not with eyes... and wait, is there? Is there really? The way I know you now, verily so, my love, the way you know me so, my sweet, is by the shade I cast upon to cool your skin... the fresh delightful taste unseen...you drink my blood in air... my heart in misty kelly green i share... inhale me, love, and stay a while... you need not go so soon! Come rest by me, your giving tree, on this the day so fair, breeze lifting through your lightest hair. How wondrous! Shall I never leave this resting place... my home.