7.19.25

 I think I see some onyx coloring around my lovelies eyes this morning. Loki & Vegas. I took my vitamins and they wound the mineral zoomy down to sweet sleeps!

pink on pink

you gave 

your wet nose 

to my fingertip

to cajole the catnip

mouse

#katyamills

greenblue

goodbye sweet moment

lying in the light of a summer morning

California

readying myself for whatever highs and lows the day may bring. making conscious contact. watching my kittens thirst by their eyes for the birds. drawing back the peaks of audio. tails move side to side with the eyes

these eyes are emerald

these eyes are amber

mine are greenblue...

sending this message to space

journal #

i was so very sick when i awakened. i was addicted. my unemployment had run out. i was living off of food stamps and the kindness of strangers. i was lonely, hallucinating, scared. i was searching every day for my cat who ran away. our home was a tiny trailer on a truck bed in Richmond, near the train tracks led to Oakland and the San Francisco Bay. i rode my bicycle slowly, calling out for little 'Drama' on the surrounding streets. the only responsibility i had anymore was my cat and myself. and he was the only one who loved me anymore.

brothers drama and shy

the cats don't know what to do with me

i saw my bean counter guy at the café today and got the word on the new release, soon to be roasted. i'm not a big fan of ethiopian so i discarded the news while enjoying the curious taste of the organic peru being served. i bought a cup of that. i like this café because here it's presumed you are a human being and worth talking to, which may not go for much in other cultures but trust me, here in corporate america there are plenty of spaces where no one will talk to you and you will draw suspicion if you try and be friendly. i got a croissant, went home and fried an egg with bacon to put inside it. i burnt the bacon but not all of it. my coffee got cold so i took the opportunity to reheat it on the stove with some rice milk and dark chocolate, swiss miss. i'm pretty sure i planned it that way. meanwhile my car was being ticketed across the street without my knowledge. i was enjoying my mocha while sitting on my couch in the morning light, a furry throw pillow supporting my lower back and the coffee table setup perfectly before me to hold my laptop and allow me an ideal position to work on my novel, which i did for a half hour or more before i spilled my coffee on my new faux oriental rug, cursing under my breath and running for a rag and some water. the cats don't know what to do with me. now i owe the city of Sacramento fifty-two bucks for street cleaning obstruction, and the driver's side tire keeps deflating on me so it will have to be replaced. all these setbacks broke the fragile beauty of my writing bubble, so i took a nap. i found myself irritable in a meeting at noon. at least i showed up. i perked up a little after meeting a few new friends to discuss fresh applications of narrative therapy, not a widely embraced modality but we wish it was. i guess it all started in australia, too, which makes me smile. damn, i could use a vacation down under or enveloped in the mountain folds of new zealand. i think i even have friends there. too bad my passport's expired and i can't afford to travel. honestly i'm just trying to keep my microcosm together and live an honorable life and keep my bubbles sparkling whole in the air.

GWB 2.4.1 video book

people kill beautiful things pretty well

 

beat up by life? K by K

Let life just beat you up the way it does. When a flower stretches up out of the soil, it's growth lends itself to danger. When you were just a seed and just a bud germinating underground, in your mommas belly, you were pretty safe. Once you grow up you're liable to get stepped on, mowed down, picked, torn asunder. People kill beautiful things pretty well. We put them in vases, we crush them behind glass.

This culture this world is suffering an overabundance and equally lacking. I cannot tell you why because it's too much to hold! Are you like me and one cheerio shy of an oh my god what the fukk is going on? The asphalt just imprisoned my garden. Our secrets will never be safe.

Lemme go deeper. Into those places where you feel you make sense. Spend more time with friends,  more time creating, add a little family and kittens to the mix. The strongest connection oughta be the one you have with yourself, your spirit, and whatever releases you from your ego, humbles you, makes you small enough to relax into the systemic. Some call it god and i don't mind either. We all need somewhere to extend our child.

Stay your beautiful self
Don't let them kill you

Then let them...

Die another day. The sensation of coffee down your gullet. Wear yourself out with your kids, your work, your monotonous chores. Go off to social sunsets and live to see another day.

The sunrise will feel better if your aching into it, arthritis summons compassion for self. Asthma summons compassion for yourself. Panic Attacks leave you hugging yourself. Fevers bring your attention to your self. Heart attacks make you focus on caring for your heart. Strokes make you remember how to learn. Cancer makes you grateful. HIV gets you pushing for your dreams to come true. Depression makes you stronger. Anxiety gets you to relax.

I will hold your spirit over here. Carefully.
Will you hold mine? You don't have to. I can just hold yours.

Expect nothing outta anyone
except yourself

Expect greatness out of everyone
and yourself. You star
you!

Accept yourself. Love yourself. Grow up and
Show people your colors. They will grab you.
They will not believe you. They will argue and you will suffer them, too.
They will suffer you.

Open up to whatever you're out there doing.
And let them take you
out.

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.

young family portrait @ dawn

The day started well. We were asleep, as the night folded in and retreated, real quiet like. Real nice. Left without anyone knowing she left. After sharing her stars and her sweet summer darkness. Her shade cooled the earth and the air and the waters. She asked nothing in return, no, nothing at all. The night she retreated, and the day came, to call.

The air was a cool fifty. The sound of the silence was heavy, delicious. Like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Quiet. Rich. Impermeable and whole. The air, a cool fifty, going on fifty-five. Circulating through town, with the taste of corn and scent of almond, and sweet summer wildflower. She carried the scent of sweet wildflower honey.

Then the birds started up, politely, maybe two at a time. The calls they repeated, maybe three by three times. Then tried out a different spacing, between breaths. Carefully setting the tone. Up in the trees, or down under eaves. Outside the home, in a nest papered with leaves.

 A clock am radio, at a low volume humm. Some nightshift wonder, still talking fresh into the day. With a warm-hearted colloquial, and a laughter contagion. Rare few would catch it, the laughter contagion. The lucky night owls. He shared his thoughts so sweetly, and with such elation. Through speakers. Talking to anyone. Drinking hot coffee in his sneakers. Laughing about kids in his life, maybe nephews and nieces. About coming together...or falling to pieces.

The day started well. The air a cool fifty. The birds set the tone. Against the graveyard shift dj and the wonderful silence. The box fan shared generously, the breeze from the delta. We felt it come over us, in our dreams and subconscious.

We were all asleep in the apartment. The Tibetan bell hung from the ceiling fan, softly chiming every once in a while. The ceiling fan spun slow on its calmest rotation, pushing the moist delta breeze, pusing fifty. Pushing it around. The air did not care. Kinda liked to be touched.

The moon was running high, when it started to fade out, like an ice cube dropped into a warm summer sky. The moon, she had offered us all many chances. Chances for romances in the tall grasses. Chances to find what we otherwise lost. Chances to appeal to some final burst of energy. Some reservoir typically untapped. The moon offered chances, before fading out. In the tall grasses, in the outskirts. In the outskirts of the city.

The sun came up slow and easy. Would have been shot down in a gunfight. So there would be no gunfight, not when the sun appeared that way. The day anticipated peace. The scavengers hung their heads and searched the soil for worms. The sun warmed the earth, and made the day up like soft clay. The sun made the day. The day like soft clay.

We all awoke to this. This soft day of clay and moist air, set into tranquility. With birds and clock radios, calling us out. Circulating air a cool fifty. Summer dawn sun and moonlight, kinda blue.

You and me, and the kittens make four. Four little creatures inside a small house. We all awoke, all four, all four of us. Number: 4. We all awoke in one room, but only one at a time. One by one by one by one. First was the kitten, the orange one, to be sure. The orange tiger tabby woke up by your feet. By your feet, in the sheet, curled up by your feet.

Next was me, I woke up next. Back to your chest. My soft summer feeling arose from hard, wicked dreams. My countenance, upset. Almost disturbed. But my youth returned to me in a flash, not just thoughts but some feeling. I could feel your arms around me, and your body come up against me. I was harbored by you, that's why I smiled in the sheets. The cats were curled up like some ropes around cleats.

I smiled in the sheets, by the bay window there. In the cool air. The blue white light. With the kittens at our feet. This was so welcome, like the sound of the birds and the box fan and radio. Like the silence that surrounded and harbored us, each morning.

You were still asleep, next to me. Next to me. I was slowly awakening to the light of the day. And the orange tiger tabby, who awoke first of four? His big brown eyes looked in mine. Up from a valley, behind the white sheets. Behind the pure dream of my waking, and yours. With the light from the east, and you by my side. With a kitten by the west wall and another by the east. And those beautiful brown eyes.

Those golden brown eyes. Your golden brown skin.
My pale figure, heavy rising up from the bed. To replete the hummingbird feeder, with liquid sugar. To get some OJ out of the freezer. To pour orange into blue cup.

Then you raised your pretty golden head. And you got yourself up.
Then the cat by the west wall, stretched up like a pony.
The kitten. The west wall. The starch sheets and moist air. The blue and white dawn of the day, so clear. I awoke next to you, next to you, my dear.

by Katya 07/13
kissilent.wordpress.com