bottle blue

the voices bombed her head until she told them off

a touch of bottle blue coffee on her tongue

the cats lapped up a saucer of oat milk

the painting of a grape harvest had eight different shades of red

when the afternoon sun crept down the wall 

from the window and caught it

#katyamills

July 23

I rolled up the cuffs and took my time. washed the glass on both sides. borders brought in line. i drove pins into the frame and secured it on the wall. hyper focus tended to still these mercurial waters. studying the face behind glass i saw we suffer the same

  #katyamills

chalk on canvas

where land and water meet

in a white dress fastened by a blue sash 

auburn hair cut close to the head 

a dove sheltered under the chin 

tail feathers fanning down

the gaze subdued and searching 

they are made of more than 

chalk on canvas

#katyamills

fuel (the imagination)

my body covered in
fossil fuels
i stand above the giant canvas
charcoal and oils
exhausted


framed
behind glass
relics of my imagination


they will never burn
into the deep blue
sky

#katyamills

2001 karma reel

i paid you a fair wage to help paint these walls
when you overdosed we could not wake you
firefighters empowered to slap you into consciousness
high on heroin with money you stole from me
when i figured it all out i was blazing mad
but thanked god for sparing your life

#katyamills

commission

god is an artist

the commission has no deadline

drawing us in 

and out

brushing over us all

with fresh

oils

#katyamills

October 1996 (remixed from entries)

i ran the streets
she saw me struggling
my struggle became ours

october
cold days under big sky
leaves dead and tumble
pale faces passing

she saw with her soul
images in her head
she painted painfully
bold

while i lay on a couch
watching light
she swung herself over and
into my arms

dropping elbows into my chest
pinning us into the cushions

together
laughing

we ran the streets
we were young
all was told

gone the glittering
gold


-Katya
(remixing diary (1996) entries)

chloe the pthalo cyanine blue

This would be her signature, chloe, a touch of pthalo cyanine blue. i saw a photograph of me and you. it made me sad. the tears i cried were turpentine they washed the memory from my mind. skated gainst a one way street, 5am, in the shirt you gave me. i was sad about me and you - oh - the trouble we got into! ridin the back of a dubstep beat, it's too small for me now looking up; balanced on the tracks of a Canada rail, cyanine blue (and she) come by air mail. can we wash it one more time? liquid dreams and turpentine, wash it all away and leave her empty, pthalo blue, deeper than the sky and the chalk on the cue. side pocket holdin the chain you left me, and change. can i stop by an give you a kiss? for the flower you shown its color in the sun. pthalo cyanine blue, the signature touch, cause you loved me and i miss you so much.

response to an image

Eyes opened ten at a time at the temple. Bodies became same color as the sky, on their way to new freedoms of mind. Others would turn the same color when suffocated. The shades were hardly discernable in the sun. Same eyes might return to sameness, soon after they found themselves on the other side of the arch between the walls around the temple. Life in the village would not open like eyes. Hope was in harvest, not in the work. But those who made it to the temple had curious minds and wanted more than their lot. They would return through the arch frequently, for each had offered a stone from their home into it's design. The god dressed in gold awaited them inside, and promised an easy vitality. Some would mistake it for fertility, in copycat poses. Brotherhood came out of the experience. Arms raised above the head, fingers clasped symbolically, just so. There might be danger in personal intepretation. But no more or less danger than personal interpretation of anything other than scripture. Vitality and comradery among men was something to fear, and would make the cities which lately overshadowed the village.

Journal # 04.25.15

I saw you in the rain. Your eyes were tired, and the train far above our heads under this matrix of Chicago downtown loop metallics, weary following the rails. Your eyes were vital. The tired was actually around them, not in them. Not of them. Your eyes were fresh from canvas oils passionate kissing the canvas off the lashes of the brush. Sparks fell from the rails and evaporated in the heavy shadows of high rises. My pulse quickened. I had not seen you in so long. I had been tethered to one special coffeehouse where they served home roast Papa New Guinea in imperial pints. Your eyes saw mine and both of us fell out of the urban grind like a shot of cool almond milk dousing the fire of a bitter brew. Two hours and three minutes ago I screamed fuck you at a cab almost ran me down in a crosswalk. Then went on my way. People are half asleep. We wake one another up, in the city. Moment to moment. We express ourselves. I have a typewritten page of fresh madness for you, my love. My friend. Come here so we can embrace. You are the creation I am. Everthing here will be gone, and yet the shadows of the high rises will thicken over time. I like how we still get the fresh air from Lake Michigan. It's a goddamn ocean it's so large! Hallelujah. Some young hoodie bumped into you as he weaved his way down a busy thoroughfare, rush hour, and he spun you around and then elbowed his way through a couple corporate fobs. That was ten minutes and ten seconds ago. You dialed up a beautiful you won't make it in time, asshole! and saw the hood turn ever so slightly back so you caught a profile. One eye glaring back. Just before a briefcase came crashing into his back. I know you. Brilliant because you photoshopped the instant in your mind and will have that hood, that eye, splashed into your work someday, maybe today a quick sketch. Nine minutes ago. As we traveled toward one another, block to block. City life. Love and hate. Awaken the sleepy heads. Watch all the people come together and amalgamate and mate. Oh it feels good to hold you. Our hearts beat alike.