run over

weightless the body

in flight. carbon monoxide 

swell of heat 

spun up so light the strange 

sound of brakes so late

they cheat 

staring down they 

fall in the winter off the 

wall of metal

sheets 

 #katyamills

TRANS.AM

after

years of loneliness

adolescence was a fury 

depression

suicidal self-hate

5150 hold

you

finally got your freedom on 

the road. cool oil base 

floods your system

liquid gold!

existence 

no longer 

denied!

#katyamills

Journal # 01.17.17

The life is dynamic again, i go from the placid waters with the oars up, sittting peacefully on my raft with my legs hanging off the back and the little cyclones of water, gazing behind me lost in thought, to this inevitable drop again, not a waterfall anymore but something approaching rapids and i swear i don't have a helluva a lot of confidence in myself to navigate the rapids, i really worry i am gonna lose control and hit a rock and go flying. but i am used to hitting the ground hard and getting up with a busted hip or knee and limping around for a while feeling bad for myself. that's something i know how to do really well.

pressured by fronts and driven to tears

we are not so unlike clouds in the sky, are we, puffy and bleached turning gray, you can see through us and other times opaque we hide our secrets inside us, coming for us and striking through they do, yet still we remain intrinsically unscarred or untouched, reflecting it all sea to sea and the earth, where we travel we leave the residue our prints passing silently along, forensics loves a cloud, made of water and vapor we are and capable of many forms, evocative of endless feelingstates, containing our own electromagnetic storms we are carried by winds and made by trial and fire, under certain conditions we scatter and the streets become empty and clear like the sky, monotonous, monochromatic we are pressured by fronts and driven to tears

some friend

some friends
you cast out for them

too small

they have to be tossed back
to the sea

Journal #03.22.15

I am not even close. I must be still healing. Please forgive me. The static waves of radio fill my head. Tonight I work in silence. I wonder about this fleeting sense of power, the delusion of self. I do not mind it anymore. Worry and anger and fear get us nowhere. Pain and the effort to feel and transform it. These are my tasks. Forgive my always anti-social media. I would that we were closer. I see you in my mind. Smiles. Meaningful connection. The ones who ignore me tell me as much about myself as those who meet my gaze. Purple frosty haze and lemon peel. To feel those feelings I would not feel. I searched the swirling seas for you. Through volumes and volumes thrashing. The truth would not lie still. I wanted to believe in what you said. In your words, in those books I read. I began to move and be moved. The mountains entertained the sun, one slope at a time. We raced our minds and won. Solitaire was King. Derrieres did swing. The hydraulics in the bus felt good under us, and the windshield wipers washed away everything. The nose was born to bleed. The harvest came of seed. The dogs and cats at best were friends, the mice we did not need. Times were rough of an industrial age. We raced the clock and lost. Turn the page. Come now to middle age. Cellular floors kept clean by the slaving macrophage. My work begins today, in middle earth. Accompanied by an orchestrated abandonment of fear, worry, and anger. I am getting closer now. I must be still healing. Please forgive me. The static waves of radio fill my head. I will always be grateful for you. Endless life.

on poets

RADIO - a poem by KatYa