ok being ok

i flew a drone up high 

to get an eye from 

the sky i

put an iron track 

down to reach the town 

butter and cream on 

an engine pushing 

steam 

we ate potatoes 

with tomatoes and began 

to sing

#katyamills

speak and therefore exist

i let the paper fall

scarred by a sudden memory

touch the silver lotus
with a laugh from no source i

ring the cup with a 

spoon. cat with no tail 

hidden in the hedge

by the rail i am talking

to myself to know i exist

the day will give a little

like cream softens coffee

she always got somethin 

to give

#katyamills

give free or die

I wish i could stop myself, arrest my forward motion, always in a rush the way i am, to be there for someone who is calling on me, in a hallway, on the street, out in the front yard or on the sidewalk heading to or from work or errands. Often they call and they always have. Years ago i stopped stopping for them, to give them my time and attention, no, i taught myself not to give my presence and maybe only a smile or not, giving nothing else but a smattering of words, before making my way to the next destination in a rush. i was usually in a rush. i still am. but it was more than that, i was also fearful and guarded of people from a young age, you see, i was the exact same age as the first kid whose face was plastered on the side of every whole milk carton back in the 1980's. those kinda happenings were iconic then and remembered dearly today, too, for they changed the operation of many a nuclear family, and likely the percentage of latchkey kids fell down for a moment, as mothers and fathers and aunts and uncles began to watch a touch more closely their kids. all i remember is i was called home many early evenings when i preferred to be out wandering the streets with my young friends. i thought surely when i reached double digits i could be trusted to come home in my own time, but nope it rarely happened. sure there was a lot of freedom, after all, this was america and this was new hampshire and this was live free or die country. so i did my fair share of wandering, skateboarding around playing cards, chewing bubble gum, and making out with other kids. still, guardedness got drilled into my dna and today it takes a concerted effort to open my heart to anyone at any time, for i always feel like many particles of magnet being sucked north. there must be a mantra in my head to help me along back into my original open and giving ways. give free or die! that's the one! i found it! now to put it in motion and change my life, i cannot wait! to start stopping for them again! fresh! to stop when i think i am in a rush and ask myself, why, katya, are you in such a rush? where really do you think you oughta be at this moment? can it not be here? with this one who is calling upon you in a simple greeting and willing to stop and give themselves freely to you? are you not honored? and can you not stop also and honor them with your presence? give of yourself freely today? what is the cost of all these moments in the halls, on the sidewalks of the world, in the streets, in the parks? the cost, my friend, is the life itself. for what is living if not sharing and loving and caring? these small exchanges, when widened and opened and made space for, they are the life! are they not? please, give free or die, i pray that i may answer the call of my people in the world, and today may i be with you. for you are all i really have, and i am yours.

deep space. 10

in our world of small attention spans
i promise you life improves by exploration
hold on and follow the field of focus
past a point of routine

find the curiosity
rewarded by
deep space
ten

keepin' it 100

I gave up once, too. I gave up on myself a hundred times. It was really awful. Soulless. Blank. The only way out for me was to believe in myself and have a cause. I wasn't given a purpose, I found a purpose. Something so much greater than myself. The forces, if you align with them, can give you courage to live authentic, I mean, to be yourself no matter where you are or who is trying to boss you around, no matter what your circumstance, you shine forth and brightly. And find that you are one of a kind, you are needed. And wherever your passion lies, you go for it, purposefully, with a giving spirit. In 2016, do not hold back for anyone or anything. We need you.

friday morning. recalled

Swiss made time by cheese, I thought, semi-conscious through the drought. Life she makes us suffer, and suffer makes me someone i can stand by, i don't know why, the processes consist of their own metabolism, and play across the bones and drop another fathom. What a jerk to transmit to you something makes you suffer more, but flip that pancake as it bubbles, and wonder again, years later as you pay to play, if it was not blessed, the cursed thing, aching in your many frames and asanas, as you cobra up to free the energy in the spine with a click, and the python of the body shows you your confines, my dear, oh that I would wrap my loving arms around your neck and kiss you again like it was, run my fingers over the turf of your grey hair, press myself into you for the longest time after breakfast, despite the cats crying for scraps, the coffee steaming its goodness in milk, the morning light guided by blinds... you a working man you work so hard has only made you stronger and i become softer by you. do not give me nothing bad, please, with or without intention. I must open your apology like a flower like a fortune, and remember I am soft I am small for these moments, after which I can blossom with your kindness into the biggest me i can be. and i thank you and lace my arms up and around your tremendous back broken not, and the clock has no sway over us, not now in August, and you say nothing changes and though I get what you mean, it cuts to the spleen because in our intimacies everything made different and new by me by you, my love... we are independent spirits reaching out and suffer still, just like all the life the world around, so I gotta keep it cool and let you go after I gave you your sustenance toward your work, I hope, because giving is gold and taking got old. I want the new and i am into you.

code

No one can decodify your heart, but you. Not only have you great promise to communicate what otherwise remains unsaid, you are the only one who could give us what otherwise will be lost. Lost to us and remain in you. There is no one else can present and represent this, only you can unearth the thing we see behind your eyes when you speak to us, calm in your center, of your embattled soul. Only you. If I were you, I would capture an hour a day if you can, perhaps before normally waking, perhaps after you put your children to bed, perhaps when you toss and turn in the middle of the night you can throw your body into the chair behind the desk and unravel that enormity keeps your insomnia alive. Believe me, the beginning of which is a mess of creation. Think scattered lava thrown all around, a horrible abscess cut into and scream! What comes of this, comes natural, you, tumbling your spirit out onto the canvas, the page, the ambled screen, the paper, in ink, in oil, in variant font drippings... you can sort it out later, rest assured, but please for the living and the dying, decodify your heart and find you in the world.   - KatYa

untitled

i don't owe you

but i get by giving
anyway

sun won't stop tearing cross
the sky in slowest motion

face and eyes cast up
over cast-iron
with steam

coffee consoles me
the television gone
the radio on

believe me
like i believe in you
or don't believe
and i won't

either
neither
or

a drop of magic

to stop this racing world of time
and trouble

the teardrop spreads like wine
staining paper covered
party tables

out of doors
the magic ends
we do our chores

god finds us
on the floors

blue. isolated

the blue
  of the blue
    bird

was
 taken!

no

 gave
 the blue bird gave
 its blue

gave it away
to the sky

so can you

give your blue
to the
sky

so can
i