love at the AMPM

Rockstar set them up against an iridescent sun. they flew through yellow light for poke. makame and scallions in a base of sushi rice. black lady asked them where they party? they said those days behind me.   she did not believe them at the AMPM.

#katyamills 

take a chance on

summer nights

the heat was deep and sustained forcing 

rolling blackouts like a wave over the power grid

you filled the void by malt liquor and fits of patriarchal tyranny

we have no candles i lied

descending the back stairwell i would rather 

take a chance on 

the street

#katyamills

pre.vail

may the spirit prevail through 

heat smoke and virus 

fire and political storm in twenty

twenty. i push and make demands

of this lethargic clumsy body 

just the same 

#katyamills

good night means good wishes

I no longer have the pride of my youth, but I stand tall as ever. I no long carry the false promise of an imaginary future in my head, where all problems have been solved and challenges overcome. I face the rising sun and realize despite its powerful light and growing heat, it has no edges and cannot cut me. We can therefore have a dialogue over our three course meal. Hardship will never be just a memory and the sun has no gender.

good morning  (appetizer)
afternoon  (repast)
good evening  (dessert)

- K (meditations on a rainy day)

Journal TWO/SIX JUNE

On two six June, some young lady with her hair swept under her cap, dressed a boyish fashion, suffered asthma on a hundred degrees. Hold the aircon, press the albuterol into the chest. Hold it now. Hold it in and take a snapshot of a room, box fan in window cuts through the night, ceiling fan casts shadow and cuts through the light. Some young lady, that was me.

I feel young and fine, but gravity has control and so I let it go and fixed to the earth am i, some young one but not so young as before, dreams as large as ever despite a social sphere leaves lots to be desired... still there are other spheres, online spheres, sleeping spheres, foamy latte bubbles bursting into the neurotranslation of my thoughts on ice.

Strange the night bathed in streetlight, kids shot out the bulbs but could not black the eye of the moon, half a pupil in the sky, waxing, and changing gears with a stick-shift turbo never gets old, crossing the trax is good for your health, kid. All the adults in the room but two, say their mother is their heroine. To me this makes the culture appear well-nourished then, but what about the dads? Has father's day long gone?

I bought Cross pens and sent them through the mail. My brother is a father and my dad is still my dad. Does anyone still write with pens? Of course we sign our names, they cannot take that away, can they? I sleep only one or three hours at a time, at the height of day, and a pillow suffices for someone to hold. Whatever you may call my life, today, is anything but desperate.

Journal # 03.02.15

I wish I will live in self-forgotten. For now I look into the fog. Then turn on the space heater. My kittens all curled up in different rooms. They need the heat more than I do. One is topping a wicker basket of clothes. Another is curled upon the bed. The third, the lone wolf, on the belly of the armchair in my kitchen. I sit at my desk and wonder how life got its limits, so endless the moment it seems. I dare not look into the future. When all my kittens are gone. When perhaps I am here, at this same desk, with new kittens. Traitor! With new poems on my tongue. New paperbacks to my name. Ebooks on kindle. Traitor! I have forgiven myself already. For life trudging on. Forgive myself, towards self-forgotten. And once I forget myself complete? It will be left for someone else to remember who I was.

BODY. ELECTRIC

"I went with her there, to the heat, and my eyes also turned a shade orange-red; and the poor devil, his focus all glued into my head and my hair, the little song on his breath, reaching out like he was finger-painting now, suddenly struck by the force of heat radiating out from us, and all of it electric. And our bodies now glowing, I opened myself to her lead, merely an extension now of her fire. He may as well have touched a live wire, when he went to finally caress the back of my neck with his hand, dropping his palm on my shoulder. The force threw him back, I swear! Physically he was up lifted and fell back, and rolled down the hill. Jack and Jill. But Jill would not come tumbling after." -K.