no sunflower seeds

yesterday we rambled through a maze of parks and trails just north of Sacramento. we encountered friendly travelers and odd signage posted on the back stops of several diamonds: NO SUNFLOWER SEEDS

#katyamills

ethos

the building lay vacant, locked and chained, on the market to be sold. anytime they happened to be in midtown they went out of their way to see it. remembering the ethos there. the tenacity. how everyone pulled together and true to the cause.   #katyamills

on the banks of the American River

after the storms
he came out swinging
cutting chips off a hackberry with his axe
to feed the smoky fire

the whole park deluged. camp sites underwater
tents ripped up off their moorings

the sky turned orange
all his strength in his arms
he came out swinging for
the comrades

#katyamills

love. circling

we rode our bikes across the bridge. on windy days we stopped to watch the starlings fly down off the supports, hundreds of them circling in unison. traversing land, sky and water. it was here where, what felt like a hundred years ago, we fell in love.  

  #katyamills

cyclone

on a windy night 

in Sacramento

a massive tree fell and took down the power lines

several blocks are out

now we light the candles and listen

to our heartbeats and the storm

and the rain

#katyamills

levee road

the heat threatening 

shopping carts pushed

into the canal geese 

hissing we walk the levee

fortified in 1850 after 

the last great flood now

become a road and 

we don't care we

don't scare

#katyamills

@ the mall

divergent they
struck out for the mall
one tall the other small
hot topix for septum rings
starry eyes
jewelers bling. they
hearts got pierced where they wanted
without tears without
a flame the long and hard
adieu they understood
they were the
same

#katyamills

run on

chevelle on the lift 

hydraulics 

turtles in a fish tank swimming endlessly toward 

a rusty cogwheel tangential to the universe

the phone 

far less riveting 

full of the world tapped the skull 

instead they read 

a book 

#katyamills

pandemic 2020 day 12

March 29
Global cases = 679,000
USA = 125,000
Sacramento = 164E (3.27)

I realized yesterday not all of California's counties are updating numbers daily. Sacramento and Los Angeles are only providing accurate infection numbers every 3 days. The covid19 transmits through saliva so those little paper masks people wear apparently are useless, as they attract and absorb saliva droplets. I also realize that in grocery stores (where the aisles are not very wide and the goods are essential) people are almost accidentally disobeying the CDC recommendations. Example would be acquaintances running into one another within one aisle and trying to cognitively assess the exact distance between them while simultaneously being fully present and compassionate with a fellow human being they may not have seen in a while. We have a natural inclination (which we must now fight) to abide by our life long training in social standards! So it takes a real conscious effort to distance ourselves at ALL times from others by 6 feet or more. The best way to make this happen is spontaneous communication. Listen, we care about one another so let's be sure: are we six feet away right now? Find your own chosen words and start using them. The two navy hospital ships have now situated themselves on the respective coasts. Mercy on the Pacific (Los Angeles) and Comfort on the Atlantic (NYC). Governor Cuomo is fighting Trump to keep his state from being quarantined, and has described this in language which hearkens back to the Civil War! This would be a declaration of war against the state of New York. As of this morning, Trump has backed off the quarantine. They say such an order would only cause pandemonium as residents of New York would likely start to flee the state. Once again, Democracy as a political system is a funny thing. Any leader has to take into account peoples mobility and, like the stock market, has to take the pulse of public sentiment, which is often a far cry from fact. You have to legislate with people's feelings in mind, because you only have so much influence over them. Personally, I wouldn't want it any other way. 

pandemic 2020 day 9

March 26
Global cases = 463,000
USA = 64,000
Sacramento = 100e

The Sacramento County jail is releasing 400 prisoners to the streets so they can make room for potentially infected new inmates. The reported number of citizens infected cannot be accurate as only people who are symptomatic and have been exposed to others who have tested positive, and have underlying medical conditions, can make an appointment to test. We should but do not have the capability yet to test everyone who is symptomatic. Once we can, we will surely see a spike in the numbers. I am very busy at the mental health clinic because 2 other managers are sidelined, and lately I'm helping to develop telework plans so my team can work from home. These plans were approved today and everyone was cheering. They can work from home for up to 24 hours a week. It still feels like the calm before the storm at our clinic and in our region. The way I figure, the medical crisis will happen first and the mental health crisis will be fast on its heels.

pandemic 2020 day 2

March 19, 2020. This is too unusual an event in the history of planet earth not to record. covid-19 global pandemic. here in the states we first learned of the coronavirus in january 2020 through social media reports of

Li Wenliang
李文亮
Born	12 October 1985 Beizhen, Liaoning, China
Died	7 February 2020 (aged 34) Wuhan, Hubei, China
Cause of death	COVID-19
Education	Master of Medicine (MMed)
Alma mater	Wuhan University
Occupation	Ophthalmologist
Known for	Raising awareness about the 2019–20 coronavirus pandemic

Li Wenliang, a doctor (ophthalmologist) and Communist Party member in the Wuhan Province of China, who had been reprimanded by Beijing on January 3rd for having expressed his beliefs in a chatroom, in efforts to warn friends and family of the existence of the virus, as he was treating people who were getting sick and dying. In many cases the virus started as fever and progressed to respiratory failure. The W.H.O. was alerted of the virus on New Year's Eve, 2019. Ultimately covid-19 was traced back to the Huanan Seafood Market in Wuhan, though it is still unclear if this is where it originated. China and USA are now fighting over origin stories. The good doctor was telereporting to the world how he lost 5 patients in his ward on one single night. He himself became infected in early January, and by the time he himself succumbed to the virus and died, he had become a folk hero. and rightly so! people turned off their lights in 5 minute tributes, spread glitter and blew whistles to honor his memory, and shouts for freedom of speech became louder. The censors could barely keep up removing hashtags. He passed away at age 33 on February 7th. Since his death, entire cruise ships were quarantined on the west coast of our country and the first USA death from covid-19 was one of the passengers, who lived in Placer County, which borders Sacramento County where i live. There are now 200,000+ cases globally and close to 10,000 have died. The studies and projections of cases in this country are predicted to overwhelm the hospital and healthcare system, as they will outnumber beds and access to ventilators. Our president, Trump, has declared war on covid-19, and is utlizing the military and Army Corps of Engineers to try and setup field hospitals in every major city. The projected peak of infections in the USA is an estimated 45 days from now, and we will be overwhelmed. Yet Sacramento, the capital city of California, has only recommended people stay home. Schools indeed have all been closed. Martial law has not been invoked. Yet. It's a strange time because nobody seems to know exactly what to do other than hoard supplies for long potential stretches at home, and socially distance themselves from others. In a few minutes I myself will get ready for work as usual, and drive into the office. I feel i would be better served if i were working from home, but i will do my duty and go in and support my 25+ colleagues in serving our 1,000+ clients who are mostly vulnerable populations dealing with both economic insecurity and mental illness. My hope is to keep the faith, pray to god, and otherwise listen and respond with creative intelligence to a dynamic and emergent public health crisis.

pandemic 2020 day 1

March 18, 2020. These are frightening times. covid-19 outbreak across the world. here in the usa we do not have testing yet available for the asymptomatic, test kits are slow to roll out. i have spoken with acquaintances who have been either in close contact with someone who got sick and tested positive, and yet because they are asymptomatic themselves, they cannot find a way to get tested. statistics are showing 2-3x jumps in the number of cases in major cities, as tests become more available. god knows how many people are carrying covid-19 and spreading it without realizing. though the sacramento region has only had 16 estimated deaths and 150 estimated cases, we know these numbers are not accurate. i myself could be carrying the virus and don't even know. the grocery stores have been ransacked for basic things i need now, a thermometer for instance, soup, bread. i am still going to work as a mental health clinician for an outpatient clinic, and most but not all of our appointments are being conducted by phone. i am trying to keep a positive attitude and a sense of humor so i can help my friends who are scared just laugh. the streets are mostly free of people. going to work is now a welcome escape from the fear and hysteria. traffic unusually light. city unusually quiet.

in.som.nia

the streets of sacramento changing
new apartment buildings
restaurants and shops

my back was achin i
could not get to sleep

ten years ago was an empty
warehouse waitin to be
furnished

now shes all grown up like
the cost of living
getting high

someone who could not believe
pushed out into the country

ghost.writer

the clock struck five. the sun was eye level and had turned the bridge gold. i was in a fight for my life. i ran as fast as i could. he was standing there trying to look bored, a blade taped to his ankle, roll of cash in his pocket. just in time. i had my tights on beneath a canvas jacket. we walked along the homeless encampment with its tents and bicycle parts and indigents sitting around a smoking fire. i won't take nothing if you're not done yet. i told him i was. i had spent the last four weeks chained to a desk writing several thousand words a day. i pulled the manuscript out from under my jacket. he tried to stare at the cracks in the sidewalk because he didn't want me to see his eyes light up. i took the money and bought myself a room for a week at the Citizen. i asked for a window to the park so i could look down upon the high fountain surrounded by benches...the cafe. Cesar Chavez had his back to me. i remembered when i was down and out, too. i situated my desk just so. it wouldn't take long to tell the honest truth.

yesterday. october 5

we rode on out to see the cousins down along the river road, into the delta and god was it beautiful, America on an autumn afternoon. we paid respects to your mom along the way. the sun would leave the cemetery sky red hot on its descent in the west. i never knew your father was an artist until you showed me his studio deep in the lot, behind the garage. there was a portrait of a beautiful woman on the easel, maybe the beloved in the beloved years? he is 94 now and lives with sofia the cavalier. they are pulling up the carpets now. the orange tree what with its lime hybrid is beginning to bear fruit. we shared baked beans and fried chicken and i listened to the story of his coming to this country, up from Mexico, hoping on some work and a couple hundred dollars to take home. a man convinced him to hop the freight train and go north, to Indio. from there they decided on Sacramento. the man got drunk one night and disappeared. that was three quarters of a century ago. old sacramento was a community of migrants. i wonder about the spirit and where does it go when somebody is no longer around?

journal august

the sky was a peach at sunset and a fire at dawn and we ate lemon ice and prayed that the city's electrical grid would hold up. the number of homeless had risen and not all could not be housed, and caring citizens were combining forces and giving away tents on the weekend. others were cold complaining to cops and assemblymen: get these sorry-ass derelicts off of my street!

thought no.7680012549991623842738

cannot be trusted

Sofia. B street theatre

ghost. tower bridge

Minutes before midnight we were passing through letters and numbers of roads. The harvest had grown thin with the moon, and the night was lit in pockets by neon-spelled vacancies between empty lots and service stations on the main thoroughfare. The fires of hell had been subdued by the fighters, and left a tinge of smoke to permeate the valley air. I hugged my sweatshirt close and listened to the engine of the truck as you brought her to speed. The tower bridge was in sight now, outlined by spotlights facing up to the sky. The river swirled quiet below in the dark, turning and churning and yearning for sea. We could not help but seeing a figure, taller than life and draped in unknown layers of cloth, standing in the middle of the street at the entrance to the bridge.  I looked at you and you looked at me. A chill came across our engines, as we thundered on by in the lowest of gears. The figure stood perfectly still. I tried to see who it might be and found myself looking into a void with no face and no name, and no resonance of life, none whatsoever! We both knew instinctively after passing, not to look back. I looked down at the body of water and saw some reflections of light in the water. The bridge underneath spoke out against the weight of us...thus had we crossed over.

flash on chalk

chalk drawn sidewalks told a story of the city on a sunday morning. the heat was beginning to climb upon us with the sun in the sky. i took some coffee and you had water and we walked three corners of the square. many of the artists were down on their elbows touching up. a kid who had not learned to talk looked in our eyes and pointed enthusiastically at some faces in the stone. no longer alone.

magpie valley summer

i bent down by the river and cupped water to cool my face and hair. the summer was hot as ever and not letting up. you flew down and hopped over to me, where i could admire you in the half-light. little magpie of the valley, what have you seen and where have you been? your tail feathers long and dark, of blue and purple hue, your legs like twigs and feet splayed. cocking your head to one side so i can meet your parrot eye. what can i do for you, brave bird? 

you told me of the coyotes and their dens above the levee, and how they walk the rails to get from town to town. you told me of the river and how it made its way. you told me of your kind, long gone from here...and yet, you stay? there is an old man comes from the city to see you, he cracks a beer and lies down with a jacket rolled up under his head. you look after him. he speaks to you in a calm and gentle tone. you climb upon his shoulder where he takes selfies with you. then feeds you shavings of turkey and ham...dear magpie, i am hot and tired and wish to rest for a while. what more do you know? would you share with the likes of me?