daylight with earth

she saw by
her soul
images painful
bold. this world
its children
mix daylight with
earth

she took the lights
down. he pissed on the porcelain
water scattered
with poison

dead leaves pale
faces under a big
sky

candles on the tank
elbows
and shoulders and
knees

he had to have her
pain made him
whole again

 behind his eyes
a redemptive quality
cast in a pervasive light

his struggle
hers



#katyamills
remix 1996

the creature. single feature

I am the creature hanging from your ceiling.

I live off of Mars bars and yogurt-dipped fingers. I have a companion who plucks my eyebrows and I am not affected by gravity, as you see, my hair does not follow nor yield to such force. Do not be alarmed for you have no defense against me, nor will I harm you. So you may as well be relaxed and enjoy our time together. I would ask only for the porcelain-inflected buttons on your vest (every other one from the top down), 3 good-natured parakeets, the sparkly eye shadow your dead wife left behind  (god rest her soul) and two pots of freshly ground Chilean coffee you may retrieve from the man in the backyard who is watching you. Please be kind to him and assist him in cracking his back, as he has only arrived a fortnight ago after a long and arduous descent from his home in the Andes Mountains. 

We will share the coffee together, you and me, black through the depths of this dreary, dark night. My wings have quite a span so I will politely refrain from flapping in your domicile. There is a key which is lashed to my waist, which unlocks my heart for you. Just be sure to turn exactly 90 degrees counter clockwise, than a full 360 degrees clockwise then 2 degrees at a time counter, every 7 minutes for 4 hours, and rather than rounding you may complete the last click on the 4th strike of the final hour, upon the bell, as heard through the window you will leave open which looks out open the church several meters away in whose rafters I was conceived. Do not forget the coffee, upon your life, do not forget.