timberwolf

one can plant oneself

on either side of an argument

or howl like a timberwolf

in the gray

the point is to

grow

#katyamills

permanently pressed

today i am light
i am even
grown up
from the nitro
blackish wet
soil

i am liking to work
with the life
i have
left

with what i have left of life
not like before
when

permanently pressed
into residual urban
cold cascade of landscapes

i was doomed
blunted
and dark and
that

was then

Journal. mood manufacturing

Notes from the mood manufacturing plant...

It is Friday here at the mood manufacturing plant, and all whistles are singing your praises in an emotive appeal. The ventilators are venting all moods colored red. The transducers moving them straight from the head. Come see our blue room for a good cry. An assembly line of grief counselors reconstructing the tears. We fill up the clouds and send them up and away. To irrigate your dried out and rational demeanor. If we mix the reds and the blues, for a slightly larger sum, we can brew up a real nasty storm - and then some. Manufacture some drama, it  certainly won't be the norm. What would you like? Some celebrated success? A moulten euphoria? Your pride, undressed? A smoking hot aura? See here! We canned vulnerability in brine. The saline of premium salts off the vine. Wholesale we offer three episodic moments to the penny. All those memories could be refreshed, like old songs in your ears. It costs almost nothing, come now,  reduce yourself to tears.

Journal. 'Planted'

Yes. Something is stirring! What? Do I too bud and blossom like the spring? Can this be? I went to shake a man's hand and left him holding flower petals. I left my home and a vine traced my path all the way to the store. I was hoping to buy a quart of milk, stick of butter, and something I forgot? Heavens! I walked out of there with only a twenty pound sack of planting soil and plant food. My vine got chopped off by the electric doors, and it HURT! My fingernail beds were turning green. When I reached the train tracks, still two blocks from home, I stopped dead in my tracks. OH THE SUN! Suddenly filling me with such passion I cannot describe! I turned my head and heart up to face it, and I swear my spine arched like a bow, against the pull! I became lighter. My eyes went blind in the looking! My pores opened and my skin turned to oil. My feet became locked to the earth to keep me from floating away. I could no longer see or hear. I could no longer move! I did not care. I stood there and the sack of soil rolled off my back and broke open at my roots, I mean feet? The plant food I had already digested walking home, I could not wait. Something was rising up my esophagus now, I know not what? I can feel what feels like leaves and things scratching and bending up through the passage. I try to speak but no words come out! Oh my god! What is happening? My thoughts are upon the feeling, only the feeling of warmth of the sun and a wish for rain. Please rain. Please rain. Please rain. OH THE SUN! Oh my god! I am breathing out but it's like the deepest inhalation. How, how, how? I inhaled the toxic shock of your world. It grumbles in my tummy. I give you a purer stream, OH! Is it me? Is it really me? I see you walking by, my friend, but you cannot see me. I try and wave but only rustle in your breeze. PLEASE! See me? I love you. I will always love you. You kick on by, all careless like, and I just watch but not with eyes... and wait, is there? Is there really? The way I know you now, verily so, my love, the way you know me so, my sweet, is by the shade I cast upon to cool your skin... the fresh delightful taste unseen...you drink my blood in air... my heart in misty kelly green i share... inhale me, love, and stay a while... you need not go so soon! Come rest by me, your giving tree, on this the day so fair, breeze lifting through your lightest hair. How wondrous! Shall I never leave this resting place... my home.