go fish

back home 

staining they sketchpads with inks

up all night alone they would not buy the lies for free

misfit friends in they head. loner celebration

extinguished the tv and touched the room with radio

they cast they line 

deep and trolled for broken

hearts

#katyamills

type.writer -vii

the irons
the letters
rise up slicing
the gunmetal
sky

striking definitively
marking indelible
paper thins
wet with ink

forming words
forming sentences
paragraphs

pages replete
with ink dry now

gather up your work
in a bundle

tie with twine

wet
with
meaning

the plot. ecstatic

A while back i was wearin a floral print shirt i bought with a gift card leftover from the holidays, and found myself perspiring through another busy day, what with the excitement of life in this little city, and my sweat comingled with the pattern, the print from the inside out, and the material began to stick to my skin. i tried to tug it away from time to time, whilst talking to people about their problems, then had to take my coffee break early, smiling as i excused myself, when to my dismay i found the print had firmly rooted itself into me, and my upper body was one big floral tattoo, a colorful garden up and down my arms and fingers, across my shoulders and breasts, around to encompass my back replete! i quickly made my way, unacosted, out a side door to exit the building, and running home from there i had many uninvited acknowledgments and gang signs flashed my way by passerbys, all in the breathless spirit of the life of ink, and finally i got over myself by a chain link fence a few blocks from where i lived. as i caught my breath in a lean i saw the clouds open up to the sun, and closed my eyes to feel the sudden warmth spread over me and fill me with a feeling i have never before known, a sorta ecstatic love! last thing i remember i was leanin more deeply into the chain link, which was giving into the weight of me, the side of my face and body getting waffled, one eye fixed within a quadrant of link. i opened it to see within, a community garden with plots for anyone who cares. i always wanted a plot of my own, beside pumpkins, green pepper and garlic. now i kinda sorta do! i seem to reside there, and they tend to me, watering and cutting me back every so often. i don't mind my rectangular confines, so long as sun can reach me and provide the ecstatic love, here where the plot thickens, in the heart of midtown, i have lost interest in anything else.

digital ink child

maybe the sweetest moment of writing a book
 comes when      the intangibles
                            the tangibles

coalesce into a unified

tale
whole fiction
       re.creation
    en.vision


abstracted (out) then dropped back (in) to the world

the conveyance
your child of
digital ink

 surrounds

like an atmosphere
like an aura
like a concert
like a principle
like a faith

maybe even warms a heart
or two

finally makes sense
and not only
to you

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.

spectre. 1893

The giant octopus
first was observed
starboard

starboard side of our
vessel

an omen
in an ink black
bottomless
sea

in eighteen ninety
three

we lost our course
that night
we lost our senses
too

the sky was starred
and moored
in reflective tar
black residue

the barnacles amassed
upon our hull
off-white shining
fell

down
into the
deep

And soon our maiden
voyage and we

would also
to the
deep

and
hasten
to our
sleep

the author. october