Union Square

the brave one diplomatically took seeds from our hands before we tossed them. a bustling afternoon in Union Square. we stumbled around the language barrier. after 15 years apart it's not hard to say i love you. a truck coughed up exhaust and a hundred pigeons abruptly took wing and encircled the square three times like paranormal.  #katyamills

language 1

i like to pick up on cadences

language rolling off the tongue

a writer's job is like mining colloquialisms 

off the streets

#katyamills

tongue.

through the years they lost everything they ever loved or had. the relationship with language endured this troublesome time. to a point of speaking somewhat in tongues  

#katyamills

the maybe 7 year process

i once had words for concepts i no longer carry words for and i wonder where those words went, or did the meaning of those concepts change, or did i change, or do i simply use language differently than before? the hardest part may be finding a place where i can work and provide for myself while i locate myself amid internal recalibrations. then again these places do exist in my country where struggle and effort are appreciated and that will join you in your own locus, however exotic, with  curiosity.

effacing the place

Such a prodigious commentary rolled out of a disconnected narrative. All the ghosts of old mama Bell had to glom together as operators, pulling and pushing their wires into that old electronic wall. All the calls incoming got patched through, and where hello meets goodbye, a patch could efface the English language, in any such redirection, the power of the women at the wall, operators, any which way. And blue came across the neurons and fired them off like static and clung to the statement preceding. Contradictions were contradicted and life would go on this way through the world wars, and endless series of splicing and bringing people together through a wire. Afflicted with afflictions, some operators were, and found peace only after the in betweens of their shifts and smoke long breaks twirled away. Nobody always knew nothing could turn into something when a push met a pull and were patched away from blue to gray. There were often a few kids meanwhile caught like in spiderwebs, tied up in an apron by a hem.

'operators at the hem' by K

read books sipping new coke outta crazy straws and dub the nights away

The only news i'm gonna read anymore is about books. i will read books and write books and read about books read and written. i will also be happy to read about unwritten (and therefore unread) books and books remembered that once were forgone or forgotten.  banned books will be a priority. translated books will be fine though i will prefer the native tongue. i may even learn another language if it helps. i will hashtag books in search queries all over the dam place. i was once an english major and truthfully got sick of reading books and books about books. most of them were novels. and i even stopped reading them though i never stopped writing them. i went into the dark room and redeveloped a fondness for paper and letters, alighted by fixer and tongs. the chemical baths in the house woulda made an ordinary old maid very sick. but this strange one (i call me) saw words appear out of letters in the shallows of the print trays in the shadowless red light district of my kitchen. digital was a four letter word in my house and if you spoke of oneupmanship in megapixel cameras on mobile phones, you would find your throat cut and the crime scene captured on old minoltas. we were in love all over again. we had books and manual inautomatons. we had tinfoil on the windows. the smell of formaldehyde and the spinning of drying prints in the hamster wheel (minus hamster). we locked ourselves in closets with one finger on a tape lead to a cartridge like a silver rubix cube with a hard on for mysterious. our lexicon was unadulterated by robots. ink from an inkwell was in fashion. we got the led out on old boxes with long silver antennae. newspaper print sullied our clothes. the speakers splashed by many a paint project outdoors and dual tape decks whereby we would sip new coke outta crazy straws and dub the nights away.

your words. my words. our words

So far away we wrote
to one another
you and me so far away

rolling vowels like thunder
off our foamy bows
we crest the whipping seas
of language

we give a try
giving consonants
their wheels in turn
which cast the vowels
in form

i dip my spoon
into the jello mold
amazed how it
slices and cuts so
precise

be careful!
i tell myself
be loving with words!
but most important of all
be honest!

from what was once
water and once solid grains
of language? each letter
sliding down
the sensual sides. the
hourglass

some dashed into the
mull! some lost forever lapping
cross the shores

some protected
held to heart. under cross or buried
by the breast. tucked into
eternity

i must
turn myself inside
out to write another
page with you in mind
because my life is best when
yours

and the poem
you gave me held up
to my lips. life! on a cold
pewter curve


become liquid
again as i close my eyes
and beat my heart!

we made us great
friends
by the by...

your
words become
my words
become
ours

soft so sweet

These words may not escape
the page to tell of human suffer age

the type set down
conformed
now weighs
the anchor of the mind
for days

who knows what falls
what follows
next

in line the sheeps keep ewes
in check

before E the eye
of goddess
rest
before you the Q
only the best

four times the power
of the sun
four times
the grave's recedent
depth

eight days a week
or more
the images drop the
feelings pour

out on to some blank lonely
space some
cloud banked in sky's silk
blue lace

would the words
simply obey
would they scream so loud
toward May

the spring she dips our fields
in green the asphalt falls
beneath the scene

i love this so the path unseen
the fleecing of all thoughts to
clean

i love you long like rivers
run i love you to the set of sun

let us lie together
 feel the heat
and kiss so tender
soft so sweet

What Gives (dedicated to K+K)

Yesterday i was half.... today i am whole.... being with you babe made it so, you made me so. i was really sitting pretty on the front porch calling you. the immediate downcast when you did not call back made me soft. the stone under my behind chilled me cold like a front. i took down my guard and got my credit card, hit the atm for some retail therapy. pulled myself up a little taller on the sidewalks. i thirsted for you. you made me tremble. the chills ran up my legs and down my arms. so deep was the feeling. when you looked down at me from above; blurred out of my focus was the ceiling.

In my mind i remember so clear. Yesterday you were there. In my mind, you are here.  As i looked up, daydreaming of you, you tumbled away. I what the fucks up? why cannot i locate your dangerous self in the streets? when can we again roll comfortably between the sheets? the wave of your passion riding over me. the latest fashion you peeled away from me. the whole day long the music....you and me. And close to one another, we had another way to use it. To ask the kinds of questions you ask when you desire. in your eyes i witness fear and great excitement. Reflections of my own.

Stone to stone, we rocked the house. You rocked me over on the bed and fucked me pretty well... the ten minute tremor is how i could tell. i fade into your spirals, I drop into your pattern. The music of your soul, well, your music squares my saturn, my ruling planet of aquarius. fresh marked parameters. i love us all around. Up through our solar powered chakras. down the whole united states of soul. You make everything i bought into turn over. I am sold. you cost a lot less than holding. possession charge? i guess i'm guilty. the weight of evidence, ice cold. all the way down the block. you are the puppet in my sock.  i'm losing energy to the thoughts, without you i may be nothing. you come from the past and scramble my ass. bringing me to some progression on my knees. Our hearts in two beat out one  pattern so bold and true. a place where all choices get lost in the fold, the K-crew. some complicated simplicity, some droolin fools gold. im really wrapped up in your mystery. i love you.