1.15.25

silence amplifies

the words amplify

the silence






we talk for a while and then i feel better

about it






what would I do without

you




#katyamills

centering

all the honey
all the messaging
4 money
the media
what a
cacophony
u get lost easy
breakdown
without silence
2 center
raison d'être
on earth

#katyamills

time a thief entwined with memory

remember January? you asked. like yesterday. how we tipped the new year with a bottle of red and fell asleep hopeful. time was a thief entwined with memory clawing like ivy into mortar for dear life. the cats pawed at the blinds. silence a dangerous thing and we avoided it for hours.     #katyamills

star lost in space

Vegas was nothing like advertised

a stitch in the fabric and rather small

like a star lost in space

the desert itself was bold

the canyons made the silence 

loud

#katyamills

silence

like the greatest adversary

i once fought it. many are the ways to silence

silence

today it lives

among the things

i cherish most

#katyamills

q.diff

so you like 

slow cars 

and silence 

living alone

no tv

no kids

so you got
strong meds

no voices no 

press 

so you got 

somethin 2 

say what 

is it?

#katyamills

fluence

under the influence

a stubborn yellow light

in a ramshackle hollow

breakin the tight weave

of farmland a scribbler

may do they best work 

#katyamills

silent crime

some days were all traffic
no let up

it was hard to even
get up

so many screens
so little time and who would believe
a moment of silence...

could feel
like
  a crime

oath of allegiance ina bath of silence

maybe i read too much shakespeare in high school. maybe i drank too much coke. i kept to myself with a few close friends. i made a pilgrimage to faulkner. i kept writing and writing though it seemed pointless at times, as there was no internet to share. i read my work in bars and cafes, in chicago and tampa in the late nineties, behind a highball whisky. maybe i smoked too much pot. i carried a leatherbound journal wherever i went. now i have a cell phone and press words in there. life is the same, although it changes. i may be getting older but i'm still young. maybe i watched too much tv. i will always love to ride trains, even subways. i take a bath of silence every morning. and an oath of allegiance to my creative process. i am very well, the way i live. but i went about things so poorly for so long, it still hurts. i blame myself for the blunders i made. i am also unwell. mostly for having hurt you. i hurt myself badly, too.

silence

"How much silence is needed
to dilute the poison in a mind
deluged by media?"


- Ame and the Tangy Energetic

author @ home

today an ICE agent tomorrow an angel in hell

Second only to the FBI in its investigative reach, deep in the pockets of American taxpayers, the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency laid its golden egg and hatched its controversial plans to rid the country of more than just illegals in the year of dear god!  twenty seventeen. Compliments to the chef. They were cooking up some marvelous remoulade to curry bipartisan favor with faux headlines and fear mongering, from here to Hong Kong. Political showmanship prospered out of the loins of homeland insecurity. ICE agents darkened your town hall and mine, to show all communities that they exist, in the depths of adversarial detachment and unavailability. Showing those who have put forth the largest parts of themselves and their lives toward anything of any substance, the door.

luckily the way of the world prevails

I think now more about the one who is there where I was. And how I might support them. Where might they come from to have arrived here? I actually think by listening to my heartbeat, in and out of synch with the many hearts, and watching thus I learn so much of interest. This last part I am saying in my head or you, in yours. Meet me in between the pages, read to me, in our eyes the fires of silence, our lips at night tremble to face the dawn. We seem to have a connection that travels farther still, resplendent through a fog which always dissipates.We share the chill that gives way to the fiercest sunrise, softest where we met, to ever rinse off the earth! Again, we fall in love.

beleaguered in the cold

Cell phone go to sleep I do not wish to hear you chirp, you are not the bird in the walnut tree singing the lovely song, no, you are not soft of down and sweet, no, you can be taken apart and reconstituted - you lack the mysterious quality. You are priced, bought and sold! Is this not true? You cannot live, you cannot die, you cannot fly. Cell phone be quiet, please, I have exhausted all your peculiar tonalities and wish only to be left alone. A parcel of time I have allotted to address any and all of those concerns of which you lobby. My associates, collaborateurs, family and friends, all shall have their due, I need not hear it from you. Silence! my dear, for out of silence shall come a storm of swirling letters into words amount to the tale which lies concealed, beleaguered in the cold, and must be lifted up from certain death to be told!      -- KatYa --

mercurial. random. streaming from me to you

try and remember when you're feeling down, no one is getting out of here alive, and sure this may sound on the surface like a downer, but if you embrace it for a few solid moments you might see what i see,  an open invitation to live more freely, responsibly, yes, but without the snafu of collective cultural expectations of you, because nobody can touch you in the distance, and yes, we will all be forgotten someday, we will together collectively be forgotten holding hands outside of temporal confines, and the extensions of us, the children, the works of art we left behind, the spirits chasing sand dunes and leaving a hundred thousand feathers hanging in the air, black and white catching the light any time of the day and long into the night with the candles arranged just right and the memories that tried to stay conscious and the flannels that haunt central station, the scarecrows leaving straw for homeless kids to lay their heads on, the final cuts you tour behind and the cannabis in the air, the charismatic leaders and the denim on a tear, yes, remember, when you're feeling down, you know you can be loved just by loving yourself, first, and out on the scene with your paper trail bursts, killin' open mics with an subterranean method, dropping hearts to minds in your curious unique pattern, mercurial the way you are and you know that's why we love you, not hiding or disguising the honest way you feel, speaking truth to power with a power chord on fire, unplugging for some silence, for a moment off the grid where you get to hug your kid, the quiet tracks of snow have got you feeling all aglow, and you know, like i know, nothing beats this moment, i don't care what the hell they do with it, nothing beats this moment, even if we blew it, nothing could compare and no, nothing ever will, so get yourself together and meet me in Berlin, Portland, Chicago, Amsterdam, Seattle, Sacramento, Olympia, meet me cause what we have here, no one will ever see again

territory. uncharted

When all was silent in the night
angst took ill and died

the pulse declined to forty-two
i drew a line around my eye

All the soundless longing
 the palette of my mind supplied

No one knew just where I was
least of all did I

- KatYa

Journal # 05.23.15 (subtectonic plates)

 I fall into deep holes, sometimes several times a day. Climbing back to earth got old. Now I go tunneling and meet all the unheard of species down there below the deep water strata where we tap our wells. I can tell the ones I meet about the sun and the moon but I don't wanna scare them so I keep all the truth of what goes on up there just above the topsoil to myself. Some of them have nightmares; deep memories only sleep can reach. Down there they breathe like trees, speak like God and darkness is their light. Gravity gets turned around, no one is looking for direction. They take me for all what I am. We can go together, if you choose to go. Just when you fall into a hole, this time do not climb out so quickly like you have to. Change the script. It's nice to be treated whole with loving eyes you cannot see. The wealth is in the silence, subtectonic plates. I even met some of those who lived on earth thousands of years ago. They are still alive.

(the day) i got away

i am kind

on the eyes

under hot summer

night

I am peaceful

quiet I am

not

all right. every

night I wake with 

alarm

you discovered me

uncovered me

you

then hid me from 

view. you

me

i am kind of bizarre

i play the guitar

without any

strings

the sound of silence

is not lost 

anymore

(no matter what

you may say)

it sings

enveloped in media glaze -iv

Ghost train slides down
the wet rails
up the coast
California

i heard its rumble
i saw its dreary cars
burdened by a sagging
economy

patience has run out on itself
life becomes the wait so
everything is now
again

there i am being
grinding my teeth. waiting 
nerves frayed
at both ends. turbulent
like each and every loss of each and every one of my friends
my gems


love got conditional on us. fast
for sures into maybes
impending silence...

vast

i listen to the rain
and

in each drop
i am
ecstatic

We will have soap opera. Hold the tv.

               I know my silence or my inability to console you had me locked up, frozen in the moment, behind the glass, behind the rain hitting the glass... but no, truly i want you to know you are wrong to think I was somehow careless with it. With you and your feelings. With my own? Na, it ain't so.  I cared and its important to me... if you care about me you will not deny me that I am someone who would do all i could do in a situation falling apart, like you. Because you would, wouldn't you?

 

               You would. you would take it all the wrong way. you would focus your lens on the possibility we wouldnt be alright. you would see hear feel nothing nice. i would cover the other senses you missed. we almost fought over it sometimes, our senses. our lenses. our viewpoints could become physiological. not just witnessed. not just intellectual. not just verbal. we tore each other up sometimes. we hurt bad sometimes the next day. both of us.

konglomerate by k

             Hurt bad, but not just physically. Our hurt went back in from our bruised skin back into the mental swamp of burdensome negative creep land. Luckily there's no tv so you get spared the CSI reenactment and regurgitation of what i just described. Hold the tv may have sounded unfair. for a soap opera, i mean. But now you're glad they held the tv, aren't you? Just like mayonaisse could have poisoned all the girlscouts on that exceptionally hot day they hiked the mountain that was really a hill. five hours of mayonaisse in the sun is fit to kill, i mean. 

            Then both of us left crestfallen and silent. Too tired of not getting to do anything responsible. Too young to be too tired to capitalize nothing. Not even a vertical line over a dot. Yeah, its been learned. But if it's used, it's used to express upset or anger, not so much exhilaration unless the kids are faking exhilaration. It's not hard to do.

 

            We would be waiting then. Awaiting and waiting and anticipating and anti-participating. Anti-anyone who shoved into a bakesale and shoved them out through the in doors. Hopefully some burst of amnesty. This is where the ribbon of hope fluttered with offbeating hearts all a-murmer in the warmer months of the cold comfort climate changes between them and inbetween us. We would be warned, if we were lucky. We would be lucky if we understand emotional mind before emotional mind became a topic in group therapy. 

 

A real fucker. Who gets a good deal? Who really does? As you open your eyes, the way I saw things, well... you lost friends over it. The culture. The attitudes. The competition. The saying shit you dont really mean. The synchronized treading water. The saying and behaving just to hurt someone back because your hurt, right? We can see the scars when the sweat sticks them to your shirt. Or like if i said like i used to make new friends. no! More dead ends. 

bw konglomerate by k

This was cool. this was right. really painful mornings waking up. of course. lots of nightmares, you know. vivid ones. by the afternoon usually felt kinda even, balanced maybe, and the evenings were knock down drag outs with us. Live in a tight space like us, and see how you really feel. You really feel tight screwed. 

 

i was bad off....i was aware of it....i thought a long time about doing somethin' about it....then i tried to do something about it....i had to wait....i had to locate patience in my stressed tired self....it wasnt so hard....i figured things out...i had a working plan with clear choices...but of course i had to deal with the damn Department, and work something out cause i was bad off like i said. They told me about the process and then i stopped working. and then i got a little lost and confused in my mind...for days...and so much for my working relationship -- i got 'terminated'. A difficult word to receive. I cried alot. We cried alot alot alot that day. Well, it was me crying but i knew we were both so sad. 

 

But I would have to take things less as they were gone and never to be again, but more so as they were coming. Faster and faster and in my face. Like a hot desert wind blowing sand into pores. Kinda intimate and warm. Filling up some of that emptiness we shared. Maybe this would continue. Hopefully so. But maybe gone, gone, like a marathon.