July 14

 not idolatry

more like I am thinking of you more like whispering to you I remember you and the lightheartedness and laughter you brought to my life in one of its valleys and I thank you

#KatyaMills

lost with you

staying up late into the night and still
early for you. i am listening to the world series
fills the room with sunshine in the muted

waves of sound

the away team has won every game and my heart
can still hear yours. you would laugh at me

for sure, to call the hour
late

we would be just getting started

out looking for videotapes and alleyway treasures
and trouble

in five days we turn time back again
will we remember, you and me?
we strung out different images

off the same
perspective and
none of it looked real

all i have to say is that i cannot forget
what happened. getting lost
with you

getting lost
changed my life

echoes of yourself

alone as you may feel you are surrounded by echoes of yourself in words others speak when they address you and clothes they choose to wear for you to see and opinions they assert in a language you know cannot be taught only shared and is meaningful for you. together at long last.

EXCERPT. BOOK#3

"Yes, I have been troubled and I bring my troubles with me wherever I go cause home is wherever I am at any moment. I gotta be dim to think home is static, no, life proves me wrong all the time, stretches and yawns over the blue marble upon which we roll and slip, in our blue dreams it surfaces and dips, rounding us, our edges, in our black and blue jeans, replete with street and graffiti on the walls. A little cream, a little sugar in the coffee and stir. I cannot stop looking at you in my windowpaned heart. Maze. I keep losing and losing you, the rains came and washed you away, the sheets were in the streets and offline, the beats pushing the feet as we walked, the rhythms searching and climbing into the greater sound; the image of what we once were working toward dematerialized again, and just like watching television on the radio it was painful good. And here you are and the whistle has blown, kicking your board up to your hand for the catch, wheels spinning and I’m worried but what the fuck. I got nothing to lose cause with all this time talkin about my faith and talkin and talkin not daring to confront you. Had I already lost you? No, no. Truth, will you lunge at me like this? Boy oh boy. Can I stand there and stand this? Do I have a choice? And yet the big sky is bigger, and I cannot look up and not be amazed by the beauty in a puffed up cloud floating off to nowhere like a poached egg white after the gas is turned off and the waters navy blue… the smiling buddha of spaces, the proclaimer of all things inverted. Girl oh girl. In discordance sliding off a continuum because they forgot to put an end to it. Directly, mathematically correlated to my ability to see what was really going on here in my life, all alone. Yeah, there’s a freedom there. A painful kinda freedom because I will find you if I look hard enough. Painful good. I will get you back, I swear!"

-Ame, Book#3

lucky kid #2 (companion piece)

Quiet life on softened streets, all the bad news backed away. You lucky kid. I washed my hair with 100,000 molecules. Each one like the full moon tonight, lighting up life in all the right ways. I made it to the site. I could peacefully fold my legs up under me on the couch facing the east,  the house where nobody's home, facing, pinching my slip as I picked it up and let it go hang around freely, pinching myself. You lucky kid you. All the pages were viewed, in a free sweep of eyes (not mine). To be sure they really existed, outside of myself. Not so easily destroyed by water, heat, air, time. Thumbs rubbing the ink to a fade I can no longer describe. Each curve of every letter like the full moon tonight, lighting up life in all the spectacular finishes. Flourishes. You lucky kid. Thinking of a friend, one I haven't even heard of in years, a keystroke away, a daydream, attacking a search engine with a heart on a saturday in America, one truffle at a time, pulling lightly on the ends of twisted plastic until the whole thing rolls over and out, examining the condition of my condition, remembering the ionic bond even if it hurts. Life I love you.



the lucky kid
Posted on December 25, 2015 by KatYa


Softened life on quiet streets today. All the bad news backed into shells and shadows or sank into the mud for a second. I stuck mostly to my routine, after and before I spoke with my family over the phone. Now the past may be the past and the future, the future. But not today. This afternoon I spoke with my family. Then the morning became a golden dawn. Then an evening, alone. A holiday. Coulda been sad I coulda been sorry. Weighed against the afternoon’s words, I was given meaning and washed it through my hair. I smile cause I’ve been made who I am, again, the lucky kid.

not even a mouse

all through the house I walked, not even myself, looking around like a stranger with a window into the life of some wannabe, I guess it was me,  not desperate just wannabe better I suppose. Wannabe more loving. Wannabe more real. Wannabe more conscious. There are books everywhere and a kindle with many more trapped inside it. Even more in my head. I'm your idea girl. I am yours. You can have me. Wannabe now, all through the house, rolling wheels of swiss cheese, not even a mouse... wannabe me, with or without you.

meditation

I thought about the origins of a feeling of unloved
How many generations one must go back
How long it had been passed down
And how could this weed ever
be uprooted

Or would you always
forever feel unloved
no matter if all the world gave you its heartbeat
the sky and the earth
the birds and the trees
the honey and sugar
the radio the tv

the winter spring
summer and fall
the lonely ghost faraway down the hall

future.past.present

My future

innocent

untouched
pure

delicately woven
by my touch

i cry
to think
upon



My past is

starved
pale
and dark

thinking about it

i burst into
tears

sometimes



My life now

simple
not effortless

thrilling
not lonely

creation
behind the
keys

just

 
right


KatYa

cryptic

i'm gonna see ya
super moon
through a reflection
in the dish
ran away with
the spoon


i'm gonna tell ya
super moon
all my troubles


then as you look out
upon the full earth
tonight


giving us
all your light
super sweet moon


i'm gonna grab that dish
ran away
with the spoon


i'm gonna hold her
in both hands


i'm gonna walk
from my home
out into undiscovered
lands


i'm gonna face you
out in the open
under some awestruck
constellation


i'm gonna look up direct
my camera eyes
gonna aperture wide
to receive your blessed offering
super moon


and the dish
become a symbol
vibrates like a cymbal
i hold her high
to the sky


rising up
on my toes
my shoes sunk now
into earth
all my cares
left behind


my arms stretch up
until pulled
magnetically now


the symbol (was a dish)
glowing now
absorbing


im shaking
salty drops
burgeoning up
from my skin


pale in the night
my fingers wrapped tight
around archetypal confluence


this
our unitive
alchemical unraveling




then all of your super
full loving free lightness
of being


drops like sundrops!
upon all our oceans!
our forests!
our seas!
our trees!


to the delight of
an awestruck sky
oh my!


oh my
i am high
floating above ground
rising to the sound
of the symbol
full of light

and then
without warning
i become more than me


i become
of the skies!
of the seas!
of the trees!


my eyes
become saucerful
secrets


moon sediment
covers my sense
of sight


no longer needed


reflecting
all that you gave me
now all that i
know


of future lives past
and presence so still


i dream of a valley
i dream of free will
i live in a dream
super moon she
created


i find love for all people
i once hated


i am left
a symbol
a conduit
a codified prayer


you made of me
super moon some
channeling mystic


i am elated
i am cryptic

© Katya Mills

cold steel got love like us -i-

cold steel got love like us
by katya mills 


I remember I once had her...I remember this well. The blue steel. In the eyes, reflected off the glass of bottles and bottlecaps which had been rolled smooth into the street. The saddle brown leather was matte, in opposition to the glossy deep sky blue. The kinda deep blue you rarely see in city skies anymore.

Ya, I once had her. Around the time shit got crazy for us, the whole web of us, maybe a core of ten or twenty, interconnected and related intrinsically to a surrounding second tier group of maybe fifty or sixty. I had her at the start, when I knew very little of what was to come. She kept her single tone metallic gold finish, when it all started.

She showed me in somehow, though i never knew the likes of her before. What was foreign to me became so intimately familiar. What a shock. Then I felt something special had arrived. So of course I showed her off.

This felt quite natural, our coinciding, however unbelievable. We would not settle for less. She would not. I would not. Sometimes Hollywood comes out of anywhere, thin air like. Hollywood is Hollywood. Often the simple task proceeding from such a discovery, is to arrange the travel itinerary, from wherever to California.

We were already California. I just had to show her off. She just had to let me, and she did! She really did! No need to acquire the funds, the permissions, then pack up and bid au revoir to the extended or nuclear family. There was not and should not have been any dissent. When you see this, you know this. Real end of the rainbow shit. Storybook status. Like we already made history, before we made history...